#~he is feeling very paternal and wants babies

[beloveds-embrace]

can we get Duchess reader yearning for a baby of her own 🥺 imagine there was a Ball in the neighboring kingdom and Duchess!Reader and Duke!Price was invited, celebrating the birth of the Kingdom’s new heir, a baby boy on her fellow Duchess’s arms.

And reader coos at the baby while masking the deep ache in her heart thinking that it’ll be so impossible to have a baby with her husband due to him and his lovers 😢

cue to Duchess!Reader having a heavy heart through out the entire event and even the days after that, until one of our boys asks her what wrong.

(And John having to hold Johnny back bc that nasty dog has been waiting to get his paws on her since forever)

Oh my god yes??? Anon i could smooch your brain right now yes??? This is so good i love it. Sorry for the abrupt ending though, had no idea how to finish it off 😔

Original Post

“Such an adorable little one,” you coo softly, the newborn held delicately and carefully in your arms, swaddled in the baby blue blankets you and John had bought among your other gifts for your fellow Duke and Duchess. “He looks so much like you, I’m in awe.”

Your friend laughs lightly, sipping on her drink. With a soft sigh, she leans closer towards you. The party is in full swing, so many other nobles mingling and networking, but thankfully you and your friend have your own little corner for now and everyone has already congratulated her and her husband.

“So,” she begins, her eyes flickering towards where both of you two’s husbands are speaking. The smiles on their faces are clearly happy, though you aren’t surprised; John had mentioned that he’s already friends with the Duke during the carriage ride. “So. What about you and Duke Price, hm? Any surprises we should prepare for?”

Ah. You had been dreading this.

You sigh, shaking your head. Though the smile returns as you gaze at the napping baby, so small and precious in your arms. With you friend’s permission, you gently kiss his tiny little fists. “Not at all. We are happy as we are.”

And it’s not as if you are lying by any means, oh no. You are happy. Life as Duchess was far, far much better than you had expected it’d be, a lot less restrictive than you had prepared for it to be.

But…

You can’t lie to yourself. You’ve been feeling a sense of discontent from the very second you stepped into the gala venue. Perhaps for even longer, though it hadn’t been especially felt until this moment. Not until you held this baby in your arms.

You want a baby, too, you had realized. Motherhood. A child all yours, calling you momma and toddling into your arms. You had been unable to stop yourself from feeling the little bud of jealousy towards your friend, because you knew you’d likely never experience such a thing due to your unique situation.

John has his own partners whom he loves. You weren’t among that list, and you didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of having sex with another man with the potential risk of your parents, or anyone else, asking for a paternity test because you know someone would ask. Your mother, probably; she was always warning you not to whore yourself out, and your father didn’t even need to say anything-

“My dear?”

John’s concerned voice pulls you out of your thoughts, his hand gentle on your elbow, and it’s only then you realize you had been staring down at the baby with such sadness, so not befitting of such a beautiful gala. So you shake your head, clearing your thoughts, and turn to him and your friend's husband.

When the baby squirms, you coo softly and hand him back to your friends, gentle and careful. That's when you turn to John, giving him a simple smile. "Yes, Your Grace?"

The worry remains on his face, less visible however, and his eyes look over you carefully. Your friends are too busy with their son and showing him off to care about what you two are saying in the corner he’s led you to. "Are you alright?”

As if you’d ever tell him what the issue is. You don’t want to make John feel pressured into this, of all things. You’d rather be divorced than do so, and that should speak volumes on its own.

It’s a silly want, anyways. You have everything you could possible need right now, married and stable. You aren’t about to ruin it with your own two hands.

So you nod your head, and brush away all thoughts of a little baby cradled in your arms. “Yes, I am. I was just lost in thought. Shall we return to the party?”

John observes you for a few seconds more, and then he sighs and nods. “Very well. Would you do me the honor of this dance, my dear Duchess?”

Between the dazzling lights and John’s arms, you can almost forget the lingering desire.

But over the next few days after the gala, it becomes clear to John- to all your the men that something is terribly bothering you. There is a lingering sadness around you so profound even your maids have sensed it, wondering if perhaps you and the Duke have finally had your first fight… but he looks even more more worried and confused than them. You weren’t mad at anyone, that much he could tell, but he didn’t understand the heartache plaguing you.

“…are you sick, my lady?” Kyle asks you one day, placing down a tray of fresh desserts. Your favorites, all made by Johnny himself, yet you barely flick a look towards it.

“Not at all. Thank you, Kyle, but I’m afraid I can’t eat anything at the moment.” Your reply is soft, patient, as it always is, but the furrow in your brows remain and your frown deepens. Kyle hates it. He hates it so, so much. You’ve even stopped taking your usual break-walks, staying inside your room and asking for nothing in particular.

“My lady,” he presses on, voice softer. Comes to stand close to you, and holds his elbow out. “Maybe a walk, then? You look tired. Some sun might do you good- or a picnic? I can pack the desserts and-”

You avoid his eyes and look away, shaking your head. “Thank you, but my answer’s the same, Kyle. I’d just… like to be left alone, please. Could I trouble you to also inform John I won’t be joining him for dinner tonight?”

You are simply glad you managed to hide the little paper you’d been writing on before he came in. Baby names, for the babies you’d never have. It certainly didn’t help make your mood better, but you couldn’t help yourself. Looking at John, or any of them, also made you feel guilty anew.

“…not a problem, my lady. I’ll leave the desserts here for you just in case.”

Several days later, it’s Johnny who comes to you. You are alone in the conservatory, trying hard to get over this stupid, lingering feeling. It’s silly, you know it is, but… ugh.

Johnny says nothing even when you call his name out with a questioning tone, and much to your shock, he kneels down to take your hands in his. It’s so wholly inappropriate, and you look around in fear of anyone seeing.

“No one’s around, m’lady,” Johnny shakes his head, not letting your hands go yet.

“Johnny-“

“No one’s around.” He repeats, firmly, and his eyes gaze at you. “M’lady. Have we made ye angry? Has anyone made you upset? Is my food not to your liking?”

“Johnny…” you sigh, shaking your head. Inwardly, you scold yourself for bothering everyone like this. This should have been your issue alone to solve and hide. “No, no. Nothing like that. I just need some time alone, in general.”

“But why-“

“No particular reason.” You quickly cut him off, gently pulling your hands away. “Please, Johnny. I’ll get better soon, promise. But I just… need time.”

But the desire, the longing, still remains. You can’t even confide in anyone, so you also feel painfully lonely on top of everything else. John is still searching, still trying to find what or who’s made you like this, but not even your closest maids are of help.

Still, while you wished to wallow your misery away in your rooms and office, you didn’t have much choice when you’d received an invitation to the opera troupe funded by the Price duchy; making an appearance was a must, and unfortunately John had a very important meeting that day so Simon is the one to accompany you.

“You’ve been sad lately.” Simon doesn’t beat around the bush, all the lights focused on the stage so you are both draped in shadows, hidden from sight.

You turn to him, a refusal on your lips already-

“No.” He shakes his head. “You aren’t just tired, Duchess. You are sad. Everyone can see it, and it’s making us worried. All of us.” He adds, not letting you latch onto your usual excuse. Performance ignored, his entire attention is on you.

And you are just- too tired. Ashamed of yourself, you sigh.

“It’s awful of me…” your whisper, bottom lip quivering. “I-… I want a baby, Simon.” You admit, so softly and quietly you don’t look at his reaction to see if he’d even heard you in the first place. You shouldn’t be telling him of all people your issues, but- you can’t help yourself. “A child. I want to experience motherhood, but- I don’t, I refuse to put such a burden on John, or get in the way between all of you again-“

You ramble on, not meeting his eyes. Your hands are tembling around the mask you’d taken off, holding it in your lap.

Simon?

Simon can’t take his eyes off your stomach. You. You, pregnant; swollen and glowing with a child. Maybe children, even. Their children. His. He can’t believe this is what has had you so upset for so long; did you think they- John- would say no to you?

“Darling, ” The nickname slips out; he couldn’t help himself. He is glad the no one is paying attention to them, in the higher rows. Simon laces your pinkies together, raising your hand to kiss your knuckles, silencing your worried rambling. “Darling. Let us return home. Staying here isn’t doing you any good. Tonight, I want you to let Kyle spoil you with a warm bath, and for you to eat and then sleep. Rest. Tomorrow, we’ll speak. I’ll inform the troupe leader you weren’t feeling too well.”

“I- I… speak about what? What?”

Simon simply ushers you out, to the awaiting carriage. He doesn’t answer any of your questions, even when you pout and the it makes your lipstick glisten to prettily, though if you can feel that his hands are inappropriately tight around your waist, you simply blame it on your tightened corset.

At home, you are still confused. Simon is acting off, staring at you with a look that makes you all flustered, but you don’t protest when Kyle gently leads you away.

You’ll get your answers tomorrow, you are sure. But in the meantime…

“She wants a baby, John,” Simon groans, repeating the words again. His jacket is thrown off to the side, sleeves rolled up his elbows. Even from here, he can see how John eyes them appreciatively. “A baby, John. Seeing her pregnant-“

Another groan, but the one comes from between John’s thighs. Johnny, hands tied behind his back with Simon’s belt because the second he found out what the issue he was so, so ready to go and beg you to let him fix it. A bairn is what you want, a bairn is what he’ll give you- chunky, adorable, and hopefully looking like you.

John had to hold him back, though. He wants nothing more than to do the same, kiss you breathless and promise he’ll give you as many as you want, but he also knows you need a clear, rested head before he speaks with you.

The thought of seeing your pregnant, though, has his fist tightening in Johnny’s hair.

“I know. Fuck, I know, Si. Tomorrow, I’ll speak to her.”

[queeniewithabeanie]

The Great Great Grandmother

Dpxdc Prompt #3

In the Wayne household it was well-known that Alfred Pennyworth's word was law. It was much less well-known the circumstances that their beloved butler had grown up it. Alfred was raised by his paternal grandmother, Danielle "Elle" Pennyworth, née Fenton.

While Danny's obsession with protection led him to stay in Amity Park until every tie he had to the place joined him in the Ghost Zone, Dani's obsession with freedom led her to do anything but stay in the same place.

She moved all over Earth, then to space, then to the realms, and finally to other dimensions. When Dani found herself stuck in a dimension very similar to her own, except a couple hundred years in the past, she knew Clockwork had something to do with it. She wanted to curse him out, her obsession was freedom and Dani did not do well caged.

It turned out to not matter too much because after a year or so trapped in the dimension Dani found herself going by the name Elle Pennyworth with a baby boy on the way.

Time flew by fast and her husband had died, content enough with his life that he didn't leave behind a ghost. Elle was heartbroken, but knew a peaceful death was what he wanted.

Her son had a son himself, Alfred was his name. Elle promised herself she would be the best grandmother she could be. That turned out to be a promise she had to fulfill sooner rather than later.

Her son and his wife had died only a couple of years after baby Alfred was born, disease apparently. It didn't take her long to notice that little Freddie had taken after her more ghostly half.

He was always appearing in places he wasn't supposed to and he was far more empathetic than most any human she had ever met. Elle taught him to control his more inhuman aspects and made sure that he would never forget etiquette.

"Being able to know how people are feeling is easy for those like us," she would tell him, "but knowing how to help those that aren't feeling well whether it be physical, mental, or emotional that's difficult."

"Why do we help them then?" Little Freddie would ask, before he knew the words she had spoken by heart and the answer to his own question was carved into his soul.

"Because difficult means there's something you're fighting for, and helping means that you care."

Alfred would repeat those same words to little Brucie when he was little and to all of his many many children. He would give a small smile as he said it, Granny Elle would love to know how much her great great grandchildren took after her brother.

He couldn't wait for Granny Elle and Great Uncle Danny to meet his many grandchildren. It would be a bit awkward to explain how they both still looked like they were in their teens though. Alfred only kept up the illusion of aging because he hadn't found a good time to tell his family he wasn't as human as they thought.

[luveline]

grumpy hotch x pregnant reader where he is just having an off day and the team calls reader in to deal with him and as soon she arrives in his office he just holds her and her belly as she scratches his scalp omg 🥹😭🫶🏻

You’re lounging in your husband's favourite chair with a book and an ice cold soda in your hand when your phone rings. You almost knock your tooth out pulling it up to your face without looking, wanting it to be Aaron, knowing it probably won’t be. Maternity leave can be excruciatingly boring. 

“Hello?” you ask. Your book slides down your bump. You pull it back up. 

“Hi, mom.”  

You grin to yourself. “Hi, Emily. Please tell me you’re calling because you miss me and you know I have cabin fever.” 

“I’m calling because someone misses you.” Her ire tone is unmissable and ever endearing. “I do miss you, I can’t wait for you to have your stinking baby and come back to work.” 

“That would be fun, right? We’ll get Hotch on paternity leave.” 

“It’s him I’m calling about.” 

“Is he okay?” you ask. You know if he were injured she would’ve mentioned that first. You’re not so scared of his being grumpy. 

“Moody as ever. I can’t believe I’m asking you to, but would you consider coming in for lunch? I’ll send a car, no walking, but he could really use it. He’s been biting off heads all morning.” Emily laughs down the line. “You’re the only one who can cheer him up.” 

It’s not true, but you are usually the quickest. You bid Emily goodbye with a promise to be there soon and get dressed, with no choice but to wear some maternity pants and a peplum blouse. Any excuse to see your haggard husband is one you’ll take. 

You look at your bump and you love the baby in there, but it feels weird sometimes to see yourself differently. If Aaron weren’t as nice about it as he is, you would’ve broken down by now; he’s sussed many breakdowns before they could begin, kissed fingertips and collars promising you’re just as pretty as always. And it’s reassuring, but it isn’t pretty that worries you. You’re a genuine walking beach ball right now. 

The car Emily promises is none other than Anderson himself. “He’s bullying you?” you ask him. 

He doesn’t say yes or no, but his smile is enough of a clue. You can’t get to the BAU quick enough (though you’re slower these days), pushing open the glass door with a tired sign. 

Spencer comes across you first by coincidence. “Hey!” he says, ushering you in for a hug, his cup of coffee hot behind your shoulder. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting.” 

“He’s in a mood,” you say. Not without fondness. 

Spencer grimaces. “Sort of.” 

Emily attacks you from the side. “Thank god you’re here! I think he just told Morgan to go fuck himself,” she says under her breath. 

She’s just saying it to make you laugh, and it works. It’s vaguely out of character, but if you know Emily, you know she has a crass, often dirty-minded side, and it’s been a while since you’ve heard her swear. You’re still giggling when the door you’d been making your way to opens. 

Aaron emerges with an expression half bemusement and half confusion. “Honey?” 

“My love,” you say, too quiet for him to properly hear, but he can read lips just fine. 

He rushes in a very gentlemanly display down the steps to help you up them, but you’d only been going up them to see him, and you stop at the foot of them with your hand raised to his elbow. “Hey, handsome.” 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“Nothing. Just missed you, wanted to have dinner, and I figured you couldn’t say no. You know.” You touch your tummy. “Considering.” 

He peers suspiciously past your head. “Yeah?” 

You look where he’s looking, find Emily and Spencer not so subtly turned away. You laugh again, pleased when the sound makes him smile. “Come on. Take me to your office.” 

He puts a hand behind your shoulders and leads you upstairs to his office. There are papers strewn haphazard across the front of the desk, his briefcase open and muddled, his pen lost within the mess. You’re smug knowing he’d been knee deep in paperwork but abandoned it all when he heard you laughing, like he just couldn’t miss it. 

“Let me sit you down,” he says. 

“Woah, slow your roll. Why are you stressed?” 

He blinks at you. “There’s a lot to do?” 

“Sure, but why are you stressed about me? I can sit down by myself.” 

He must look at you for five whole seconds without saying a word, and the door’s not closed, there’s no answer to your question, and then he takes you into his arms for a hug. “I know you can,” he says. 

It’s admittedly hard to hug him with the bump between you. You worry you’re hurting him as your cheeks press together, crushing his shoulders under your hands. 

He usually asks first, but he knows by now that you’re two halves of the same heart, two sides of the same coin, his hand slipping between you both to nudge aside your shirt and feel your stomach. 

You close your eyes. 

“Rough day?” you ask. 

“A lot to do…” His face moves down into your neck. 

You know what he wants, moving your hand to the back of his head to thread your fingers into his hair. “I can fix it,” you say sympathetically, beginning a gentle scratch of your nails against his scalp. 

“How’s that?” 

“If I go into labour right now, you get a reprieve.” 

“Honey, in the most loving sense possible, you going into labour now would not be ideal.” 

“It’s gonna happen one day, babe. And you’re gonna be just as busy then. You need to take less on or–”

“No, I know.” 

His hand slides still under your shirt to your hip, encouraging you away from him, his eyes flitting up and down your figure, checking you over. You let your hand fall to his shoulder, fingertips interested in the starchy fabric of a new suit. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, dipping down to give you a kiss. His eyes are dark, so close. “That helped. What can I get you for dinner?” 

You give a fond, pitying smile. You’re not gonna get him out of this office today, that’s for sure. “Half your sandwich, probably.” 

He kisses you again. You take it for a thank you. 

[emilybeemartin]

Boromir Week Day 3: Son of Denethor, Paternal Family, Thorongil

Here is what we know: When Denethor was a young man, Aragorn served as a captain in Gondor under the name Thorongil. He was so skilled and wise that he soon became invaluable to Steward Ecthelion, which made Denethor jealous.

So here's today's headcanon: Ecthelion wants to keep Thorongil close while Denethor is constantly trying to edge him out, which means Aragorn is just constantly around. And Finduilas, as we know, is very, very lonely. She's alone in a world of grim, older military men, she dreads being so close to Mordor, and her husband has no emotional fluency. So when Thorongil speaks kindly to her and holds genuine conversations with her, it's one of the only friendly anchors she has. She sees him as closer to her in age--though he's not--and feels like he actually values her for more than just being a quiet, dutiful wife--because he does. He's there throughout her first pregnancy and when she goes into labor with Boromir.

Meanwhile, Denethor's attention has been on being valuable to his father. He's been hoping and praying this baby will be a son, because he thinks it will be what he finally needs to wrest Ecthelion's favor away from Thorongil and back to himself.

But while Ecthelion adores his grandson, he still relies on Thorongil's skills and leadership, and Denethor only grows more jealous. Recognizing this, and perhaps also recognizing that he's become a wedge between Finduilas and Denethor, Aragorn surprises everyone by making that abrupt decision not to return to Minas Tirith after the battle of the Corsairs.

TO BE CLEAR, I don't hc that Boromir and Faramir's parentage is anything other than what's laid out in canon. I'm just saying THERE'S A LOT OF MATERIAL TO WORK WITH HERE.

@boromir-week

[binhourly]

[230425] — .ᐟ

word count: 1255 | member: lino

“I BLAME you for this,” you say to Hyunjin—or rather, to the kitchen countertop you’ve rested your forehead against—the hangover from last night’s partying making the sun filtering through the window feel like your brain is swelling past your skull.

The freshly buzz-cut boy sharply exhales through his nose, before continuing his reign of terror on your migraine by slamming the cabinet doors shut as hard as possible to grab your attention. “That’s sad,” he starts, waving off your scowl with an equally bratty lip scrunch and a single eyebrow raised. “With how much alcohol you were downing, I thought you’d be cool enough to at least brag about it.”

“No, I can’t,” you tell him, melting instantly at the sight of your favourite Snoopy mug being filled with freshly brewed coffee. So on brand for Hyunjin. One second he’s terrorising you, while simultaneously doing something so tooth-achingly sweet. “What I did yesterday was embarrassing and potentially fatal. And can I say it’s really annoying that I’m like this—" you motion vaguely at yourself—"and you’re just... fine!”

Hyunjin's smile tilts crookedly, leaning forward before splaying his very sleeveless arms out on the kitchen counter. “It’s the protein, baby. I’m so jacked up with it, it basically makes me bulletproof.” He gives you his best alpha-male impersonation, adding the obvious bicep flexing to piss you off further.

Despite your daily hatred for your best friend, Hyunjin still manages to pull the first laugh out of you that morning, before settling back into a peaceful cycle— you sipping your drink, him humming some song he’ll probably file away on his phone with all the other hidden gems.

“Do you even remember what you did after we got home?” the blonde boy questions, his dazed expression practically giving away his lack of paternal instincts last night–assuming that once he got the chance to shove his shoes off, one toe against the heel of the other at the entry door, Hyunjin basically called it quits and let you run wild in the apartment you shared with your other roommates until you tire yourself out. Naturally.

You squint at him, racking your memory folder. “I…” you trail off, snapping your fingers once a cohesive image starts forming behind your eyes. “I went to kiss the cats goodnight.”

“Dude, do you just choose to forget how much Minho hates it when you do that?” Hyunjin argues, never letting his irritation falter as he smooths a hand behind his back to stretch out the bed kinks in his shoulder. “Your lipstick stains their fur. Like, I’m sure it defeats the whole ‘animal cruelty’ aspect of the product.”

This was another reason why no one should ever advocate for a drink to be put in your hands. While alcohol seemed to settle some people, the sour bite of it ripped away every bit of confidence you carried during the day, leaving you flinging head first to affection as proof that people actually wanted you around.

It was partially the reason why you only went out drinking with Hyunjin. The man had been a constant reassurance in your life, so the overwhelming feeling barely crept up on you. Minho was different. He was an extension of Hyunjin (a close friend from his dance crew) which meant it was inevitable that your two worlds would collide, but somehow he never felt inclined to open up the same way Hyunjin could.

And it sucked more than you liked to admit. Soon, with enough accidental run-ins around the living room or squeezed bathroom times in the morning, you found yourself holding onto every small detail about the black-haired man. Until the practice of seeking acceptance wasn’t just a drunk habit—you were already doing it sober.

“But they’re so cute! If they don’t want to be loved, then they shouldn’t be the size of babies — it’s misleading,” you muse, swivelling the kitchen chair around, fingers protruding out in the ready position to coax a cat to come to you.

Right on time, the first cat, Dori, pads into the kitchen, his stomach smothering closer to the ground with clear signs of his future refusal of pick-ups or any form of affection. With his coat obviously dark, there’s no indication of your lipstick marks on him.

Then, a few beats later, Doongie trots in—the obnoxious white patch amongst his layering orange tint still fluffy and perfectly lipstick-free. Odd. Hyunjin rounds the corner, equally confused. “Huh? Maybe Soonie got the short end of the stick.”

You sit up straighter, flicking your gaze towards the long hallway where Minho’s bedroom occupied the first door. Soonie definitely was the victim. You didn’t like to vocalise this often, especially in front of the feline brothers, but he’d always been your favourite. And when the familiar orange-to-white ratio cat appears, you're almost celebratory—until you realise, tail high, strutting in insecure, maybe aware of the many eyes on his newly licked coat—that not a single smear of lipstick is on him either.

Nothing. Clean.

“What the fuck.” Hyunjin’s brows furrow, his increased stress levels making his hands find his hair, running them up and down against the short bristles. “Did you make out with the wall again?”

“No,” you start, smacking his side to shut him up, catching a sliver of skin from his deep-cut muscle tee. “I remember kissing something. It was really soft and it kept moving around—”

The door flings open, and the soft bare feet cushioning the cold floor makes you so flustered it almost stops your heart dead in your chest. “I’m not going to repeat myself again.” His voice is naturally sultry, like his speaking cords are meant to be washed with a glass of champagne rather than gargled water, and the shift wasn’t all the more subtle in the peakest of mornings where it drops so low. “I closed my door on purpose because the cats get hyper at night. I understand you guys were drinking, but fuck, maybe drink enough to abolish your fine motor skills.”

Hyunjin keeps cutting his eyes back and forth between Minho and you, like the answer might magically evolve itself in the space between. But you’re stuck staring at the man who plagued every part of your brain. And if this were a game of Spot the Difference, the version of him you kept tucked away in your mind just got a full rebrand.

The Minho in your head was clean-cut. Every edge is sharp and emotionally unavailable. But Minho standing in front of you now? He looked kissed within an inch of his life.

It starts at his T-zone, the close-knit shape that’s undoubtedly your mouth giving away just how desperate you were in taking him in—some marks deep and damning, others smudged like you’d lost focus halfway, paying close attention to the corners of his lips that were not salvaged in your reckoning. And following along his jawline, there’s a loving beeline down to the curve of his neck, the shape less puckering and more open-mouthed.

You were absolutely mortified. So the softness you recounted was really Minho’s skin, and the animalistic movement was just from Minho shimmying around in his sleep under you.

An incomprehensible noise escapes Hyunjin this time, which could best be categorised as something between a yell and a manic laugh. Either way, it’s obnoxious enough to yield Minho to stare at the wall mirror beside him, catching what was on the other end of the buzz-cut boy’s pointed finger.

“Oh… so, not a cat.”

[ note: ] wrote this under 10 minutes after being inspired by this meme. please know lino is unravelling lowkey in the best ways, he's just awkward with feelings.

[pathologicalreid]

I'm a terrible writer but always get good ideas lmao

Idk if you've ever seen friends or not but there is this one scene where Rachel and Ross go to a sonogram appt and she has a whole breakdown cause all she saw on the sonogram was a blob and not a baby. (I'm pretty sure it was like their first appt or something idk)

I'm a sucker for dad!spence and you're one of my favorite writers for him.

Feel free to totally ignore this if this is trash lol💓

amorphous | S.R.

your first appointment goes exactly how you expected it to, but not at all how you wanted it to

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff w/ comfort content warnings: pregnancy, ultrasounds, doctors, pregnancy symptoms, emetophobia warning word count: 795 a/n: i have never seen friends but i hope that this fic does your request justice. ilysm.

You put on a brave face as you accepted your appointment card from the secretary, thanking her for her time before sliding the card into your pocket, trusting that Spencer would remember the date and time of your next appointment.

Everyone had tried to prepare you for this appointment. At eight weeks, all you were going to do was confirm that you were actually pregnant and make sure that you were measuring accurately. The internet told you that was going to happen. Spencer told you that was going to happen. Your OB told you that was going to happen.

None of that prevented the sheer disappointment you felt while leaving the obstetrician’s office. You lagged behind Spencer, taking the steps to the parking lot considerably slower than he was.

It didn’t take him long to notice, keenly aware of your every move as if he had developed a paternal superpower, your husband waited for you at the bottom of the steps. “What’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth to respond, gesturing over to the building before shrugging, “I thought it would help,” you confessed, sticking out your bottom lip in disappointment.

Spencer’s gaze softened as he ushered you off to the side and out of other people’s way. He knew you had been struggling with the lack of visibility that early pregnancy had. You hadn’t told friends and family yet, the only people who knew – aside from medical professionals – were the two of you.

“I just wanted to see it,” you mumbled, looking sheepishly to the ground. “I thought it would make it feel real.”

He nodded in understanding, using the pads of his thumbs to deftly wipe away any stray tears on your cheeks, “You saw the screen though, right?”

You thought you had been looking at the screen, but maybe you had been so distracted by the transducer that your brain hadn’t processed what you had seen. The baby hadn’t been in a good enough position for you to hear the heartbeat.

“Here,” Spencer said, setting his hands on your upper arms before guiding you over to an empty bench. Once you were sat, he dug through your purse and produced the sonogram images that you had been given.

Suspiciously, you eyed the black and white pictures that Spencer had gently set in your lap, “It just… it’s just a little white blob.”

Maintaining your attention, Spencer pointed at the picture, “Do you see this part here? That’s the head,” he dragged his finger over slightly, “There’s the body,” he showed you. Guiding you through the sonogram, showing you every part in hope that it would console you.

“I just…” you faltered, looking at the photos as you tried to see it as a baby instead of a blob, “I don’t have a bump, we couldn’t hear the heartbeat, I guess… I guess I wanted some sign that they’re okay in there.”

Crouched down in front of you, Spencer cocked his head to the side, “Honey, what’s the first thing you did this morning?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “I showered?”

Spencer shook his head, “Even before that, the very first thing you did this morning,” he encouraged you.

Your face warmed as your eyes flittered up to his, “I threw up.”

“And do you know what made you so sick?” He asked pointedly. Smiling timidly, you looked down at the photos with a newfound fondness, “The baby.”

He nodded, “Every morning that you wake up nauseous and every time you’re tired in the middle of the day are all little signs that they’re doing just fine.”

You sniffled slightly, wiping tears from your face with the sleeve of your sweater, “I’m sorry,” you murmured, “You probably think I’m being so dramatic.”

“I think you’re scared, and it’s okay to feel that way,” he reassured you. “We’re gonna see them again, okay? Next time we go they’ll be more than three times bigger. Our little blob will have tiny arms and legs.”

You frowned down at the pictures, still frustrated that this was all you had, “Twelve weeks feel so far away.” You had scheduled your nuchal scan for the end of next month, which felt like eons into the future.

Spencer smiled at up at you, “It’ll be here before you know it,” he told you softly, “No more tears, okay? I still have an hour before I have to go to work, did you want to get something to eat?”

Nodding softly, you put the photos back in your purse before standing up, “Yeah, maybe something with raspberries? That’s how big my phone says the baby is – the size of a raspberry.”

Tilting his head back slightly, Spencer chuckled at your proposition, “Absolutely, we’ll find the best raspberry dish in the district.”

[heich0e]

sakusa is not a fan of babies.

he thinks they're sort of annoying. and loud. and he doesn't understand why their hands are always sticky.

he doesn't feel any real paternal instinct or drive to have kids of his own, and he never has, but when atsumu's baby looks up at him from the stroller you pushed court-side in the MSBY training gym one afternoon, with his big round eyes and a (frankly kind of endearingly dumb) look...

kiyoomi can admit the kid's not totally repulsive.

"omi-omi!" atsumu chirps cheerfully from the other side of the stroller when he notices his teammate approach, leaning over the handle towards him—in response to which kiyoomi recoils slightly on instinct. "isn't he cute? looks just like me, huh?"

kiyoomi opts to ignore atsumu, and turns to you instead—standing at your husband's side with a wry but affectionately exasperated little smile. you shoot kiyoomi an apologetic look for atsumu's antics while the two of you greet each other politely.

truthfully, you're one of the few visitors to the jackals's training gym who kiyoomi is willing to take a break in his practice to greet. though he usually finds these sorts of disruptions troublesome, you rarely visit and never stay long out of respect for the team's time, so he doesn't mind it quite so much. you're here this afternoon just to drop off paperwork your husband left behind at home that morning, even after you reminded him twice not to forget—which you explain with a pointed look at the blonde at your side. (kiyoomi has long-believed you're entirely too good—too sensible—to be married to a guy like miya.)

greetings aside, atsumu jumps right back into his nonsense.

"so, omi—wanna hold him?"

kiyoomi's lips part to immediately decline the offer, but just before he can get the words past his teeth—

"mimi!"

he freezes.

kiyoomi's gaze flickers down to the little boy in the pram again, more in shock than anything, and finds the baby's eyes are still firmly fixed in his direction—a tiny, semi-toothed grin on display now. "mimi!" the child says again, with that same lilt of excitement and a giggle as his little hand reaches out in the outside hitter's direction.

sakusa glances up at miya suspiciously—notably excusing you from the receiving end of his mistrustful gaze.

"what's mimi?" kiyoomi asks him flatly.

"yer mimi!" atsumu laughs, reaching forward and ruffling his son's hair affectionately. "little guy watches the game tapes with me on rest days so mama here can get some rest of her own. he musta heard me complainin' about ya messin' up yer serves one too many times."

"he picked it up a while ago," you add, shoving lightly at atsumu's arm for his rudeness. your eyes twinkle with mirth as you go on to say: "he always cheers when you're on the screen. i think you might be his favourite player."

atsumu guffaws at the suggestion, balking about the indignity—the betrayal—of it all, but kiyoomi largely ignores him (which he's gotten very good at over the years) and looks down at the baby once more instead. the little boy's hand is still outstretched in his direction, waving enthusiastically for his attention. kiyoomi peeks at you as if to translate.

"he just wants to say hi," you explain with an encouraging smile, coming around to the side of the stroller and crouching at your son's side. you press a kiss to his squishy cheek, and he gurgles happily in response with his hand still waving. "you're excited to see mimi, huh?"

and, well, kiyoomi's just as shocked as anyone else when he reaches out and tentatively brushes the tips of his fingers against the little boy's outstretched palm. even more shocked when he doesn't pull away once the baby's little hand wraps itself tightly around his pointer finger with a delighted squeal.

your son's hand is surprisingly soft—and thankfully not sticky.

and for the first time in his life he can't help but think that maybe babies aren't so bad after all.

at least this one isn't.

(the credit for which kiyoomi gives entirely to you and not your obnoxious husband.)

[rizzanon]

Ages and background info

m.list

Current timeline:

Bruce - 42

Dick - 25

Jason - 20

Cassandra - 20

Tim - 17

regressed!reader - 16

Damian - 11

Alfred - 64

Barbara - 28

Stephanie - 18

Duke - 15

sadly Duke won’t be making an appearance anytime soon because I think he only comes around in the timeline when reader is like 17/18¿? 😔

Background info (Alfred, Bruce, Dick, Barbara, Jason centered)

You don’t know who your mother is. You were left at the doorstep of Wayne Manor the moment you were born. (don’t ask how she managed to get through Wayne Manor’s cutting edge and state-of-the-art security system..) Bruce took you in and became your parent after getting a paternity test that proved that he is your father. At this time, it was Dick’s first year of being Robin.

You’d be initially taken care of by Alfred during your early years. When Bruce was busy fighting crime or with board meetings at Wayne Enterprises, it was Alfred who rocked you to sleep, tended to your needs, taught you how to read and draw. His soft and steady preference was reader’s anchor in that big, lonely manor.

Growing up, you constantly heard about your father’s brilliance—Bruce Wayne, the untouchable billionaire philanthropist, praised for his endless contributions to Gotham. The public’s expectations for you, his daughter, were impossibly high, and your every achievement was either dismissed as trivial or compared to his legendary feats.

You worked tirelessly to prove yourself worthy of the Wayne name, pouring everything into becoming the perfect daughter. But no matter how hard you tried, there were always people who’d be better than you in certain aspects, you can’t always win, can’t always get the top place. And that was the only thing the public focused on.

It hurt, but you buried the pain, telling yourself to try harder. Because that’s what it meant to be a Wayne—always striving, even when it felt like no one cared. You hoped till the very end that one day, your achievements would actually mean something to your family. To your father.

And mind you, this was before you found out your father was the Batman. And when you did, that’s when you changed trajectories and tried becoming a vigilante just like your father, like your siblings. You took up the mantle of Batgirl at 13, you trained hard, trying to hone your skills. But you weren’t meant for this life of crimefighting. You were always sidelined, and at every moment, it felt like your family was waiting for you to fail badly, so that they’d have a reason to prevent you from picking up the mask ever again. You could never be good enough, strong enough like your family. But you still pushed through, tried to prove yourself, and that was ultimately the cause of your demise.

When Dick was still in his pre-teens, I would think that he liked the idea of having a baby sister. Whenever he wasn’t off at school or out being Robin, he’d always come and play with you. But as he grew older, his teenage years, Dick would spent less and less time around the manor, and more time with his friends and the Teen Titans. He’d be consumed more and more by his missions and bonds with his teammates.

At first, you didn’t mind of course. He was your big brother. He always promised to make it up to you, he’d always promise to come back. But as the days stretched into weeks, and then months, his time spent with her became shorter, and his attention became more divided. He still loved you of course—he always tried making that clear—but his life was no longer centered around the manor, around Gotham. And by extension, that meant you too.

But that changes when you find out about your family being vigilantes. You’d feel betrayed at first upon finding out, especially because they hid this from you for so long, and if you hadn’t found out when you did, you doubt they’d even tell you.

And that makes you want to prove yourself to the family, and that’s what makes you pick up the mask and become a vigilante as well. Dick was definitely against this, and that’s what initially causes your relationship to strain with him. After all, this was when Jason had just died not too long ago. But you were adamant. With that, he did try to train you for a bit, but he ultimately ended up focusing more on Tim, who was the next Robin, and Bludhaven. He “left” you to figure out the ropes of this yourself. He was sure that Bruce or Barbara would train you.

This widens the gap between you and Dick, and at first, you ruled it off as him gaining control of his life and trying to figure out what he plans to do with his responsibilities. But then as the years go by, you notice the blatant distinction between the way he acts around you versus your other siblings.

He kept his distance from you, his interactions were friendly, but always brief. He didn’t exactly linger to check on you or talk to you after patrols. At first, you thought it was Jason’s death that was making him distant, that he was just coping in his own way. But as time went on, it felt like he didn’t see you as worth the effort. Or maybe he just thought you were fine. When he did make plans with you, most of the time, it’d get postponed, or it would slip his mind. He never really thought it was a big deal, and what made things worse was that you never pointed it out as well.

You didn’t want to confront him about this. Maybe you were just afraid to break that loose strands that was holding your relationship with him. Your bond with him. Or maybe you did not want to admit that the bond was basically non-existent.

Whereas Dick remained blissfully unaware of the way he’s treating you. Did he notice that he doesn’t spend as much time with you as he does with the others? Maybe. But did he choose to do anything about that? Not really.

Maybe one day he’ll come to realise the consequences of his actions. That maybe, he wasn’t the best big brother he could be for everyone. Dick Grayson was a man who cared about many things, a man who wore his heart on his sleeve. He was fiercely loyal, protective, and deeply committed to the people he loved—whether it was his adoptive family, his friends, or the people of Gotham. But that didn’t include you.

Dick’s commitment to his own life and responsibilities, both as Nightwing and as a person, pulled him further away from you. He was no longer the older brother who would spend hours with you, teaching you how to be better, how to be a hero. Instead, he was often wrapped up in his own struggles—focusing on Bludhaven, or dealing with the aftermath of Jason’s death. Even when he did offer advice or training, it always felt half-hearted, like he was only doing it because he had to, not because he wanted to.

There were times when you did try to approach him, to bridge the gap that had grown between you two. You wanted to confide in him, to seek his guidance and maybe find the comfort you desperately needed. But every time you tried, it was like talking to a wall. He was distant, distracted, and no matter how much you tried to show him how much you were struggling, he never seemed to truly see you.

The bitterness began to grow, and with it, resentment. Why didn’t he care about you like he used to? Why was it so easy for him to focus on everyone else while you fell to the wayside? It hurt more than you wanted to admit, especially because you still looked up to him, still wanted to be close to him the way you had when you were younger. But now, as the years went on, you realized that maybe the bond you once had was slipping away for good.

He was still the person you wanted to be, but in a way, he had moved on from you. And as much as you hated to admit it, it was easier to hide behind the mask and do things on your own. Because at least then, you wouldn’t have to face the painful truth: Dick Grayson, the brother you looked up to so much, no longer had time for you.

As for Bruce, I don’t want to make it seem like he didn’t care about you. Bruce loves his children, and I don’t want to take that trait away from him. But at the same time, you have to admit that he’s quite emotionally unavailable. From the moment you were brought into his life, Bruce is terrified. He doesn’t know if he can be a good father to raise you, especially with his line of work. And it’s not like you were like Dick. Dick was a growing boy, you were just a baby. Completely dependent on him. You were so and fragile in his arms, and he thinks you’d break if he held you any tighter.

Bruce wanted to love you the way a father should, but love didn’t come easily to him—not in the way most people understood it. His life was a constant battle, filled with shadows and danger, and the idea of bringing a child into that world felt wrong. He couldn’t protect you the way he wanted, not with Gotham always demanding more of him.

So, instead of letting himself get too close, Bruce focused on what he could control: providing for you. He made sure you had the best of everything—your education, your safety, and most importantly, Alfred.

In truth, Alfred did most of the parenting. Bruce rationalized that it was for your own good. Alfred was patient, kind, and steady in ways Bruce felt he could never be. Alfred would shield you from the darkness of the world Bruce inhabited. But deep down, Bruce knew the truth: he was keeping himself at arm’s length because he was terrified of failing you.

But with him keeping you at an arm’s length all the time, Bruce is unaware of the repercussions of his actions. That in a way, he was in fact failing you. Just, not in the way he thinks. He doesn’t necessarily realise how much of your life he’s missing. Sure, he knows he misses out on some of your events, but he tries to make up for it by gifting you more toys and clothes.

Though, that could only work for so long. By the time you were in your pre-teens, you needed more than just trivial gifts.

You needed your father.

But Bruce couldn’t see that. He never did. He only just checked in on your well-being through Alfred. And everytime Alfred tries to tell him about how you needed him in your life more, Bruce always ends up brushing it aside, claiming that you only just need Alfred.

And then comes Jason’s death. That puts a huge hole in Bruce’s heart. The death of his son is something that will haunt him forever. He vows to never fail like that again, not with anyone else he cared about. This was the whole reason why he kept his vigilante life in the dark from you. But you found out anyways. And when you did, you wanted to follow in his footsteps.

That was the last thing he wanted you to do. He tried to dissuade you from this path, but you were determined. Stubbornness was the one trait you did share with him. And eventually, he relented.

He always assigned you cases that he thought was “safe”. Cases that he knew you could handle. But everytime, you demanded more, and each time, Bruce always said no. You were his daughter, he couldn’t risk putting you in dangerous situations. He knew what you can or can’t handle. And unfortunately, that did not change over the years. He was fixated on the very fact that you weren’t cut out for this life of crime-fighting. And you never will be.

Which is why he only watches from afar, the gap between you and your father growing too far apart for any of you to try and bridge it. He only gets updates about you from Alfred, and even that was rarely asked about. And eventually, you just fade into the background, into the shadows of the family.

As for Jason, I believe there would be two parts for him. Before his death, when he was first brought into the family by Bruce, he was this small, energetic boy who had a certain sass to him. He was only 4 years older than you, and that allowed you to build a fairly close bond with him. That is, before he suddenly becomes “busy” with other stuff. Though he spent lesser time with you, he always did try and check in with you when he could. You two always read together in the library, he’d tell you all sorts of stories about Crime Alley.

But that all changed when he died. Jason’s death left a void in everyone, including you. You didn’t understand why he died, what caused his death, and you were literally heartbroken. You saw how his death destroyed your family, and you tried desperately to fix it. But nothing ever worked. Which is why you shifted your grief towards your studies, trying to make sure that you could be the perfect daughter that could fill the emptiness Jason left behind. But nothing worked. You wanted to heal, wanted to help your family move forward, but without their support, it felt impossible.

When you take up the mantle of Batgirl, part of the reason is because you wanted to honour what Jason did. His time as Robin. You thought that maybe he’d be proud of you, for stepping up and doing this. And maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to become half the hero he was.

But no, Jason was far from proud. And you only know that once he is revealed to be Red Hood years later. Jason is furious. His fury cuts deeper than you expected, not just at the fact that you’ve taken up the mantle of Batgirl, but because of the underlying betrayal he feels.

He looks at you, his younger sister, the one who was supposed to be protected, and sees someone who is willingly stepping into the very nightmare he couldn’t escape. The life that broke him, the endless cycle of violence and pain, and the years of grief and rage that had consumed him. He sees you and wonders: Why? Why would you choose this path, knowing what it did to him?

His anger isn’t just about the mantle—it’s about the idea that you’re following in his footsteps, as if you’re willing to become just like him. Worse, you’re doing it without understanding what it costs. He doesn’t want you to end up like him, as someone who can’t find redemption, who is trapped in a life of revenge. He’s already lost so much—first to the Joker, then to Bruce—and now it feels like he’s losing you too. The only family he has left.

But for you, the choice to take up the mantle was about honoring Jason. You didn’t want to replace him. You didn’t want to erase the pain he went through. But as much as you wanted to fight for the family, you couldn’t help but feel like you needed to prove yourself in a way he never had to. Your family was broken, and you thought that maybe, by stepping up, you could fix it. Maybe you could become the hero Jason never got the chance to be.

But that’s not how Jason sees it. He’s angry, and hurt, and feels betrayed—because he knows what you don’t fully understand yet. This life doesn’t fix anything. It destroys. And if you keep going down this path, you’ll end up like him—scarred, alone, and full of rage that will consume you, just like it did him.

The tension between you two becomes unbearable. The sibling bond you once shared is strained beyond repair, and Jason makes it clear that he’ll never accept you as Batgirl. He’s no longer the brother you knew—the one who once taught you how to laugh, how to stand up for yourself. Now, he’s just a stranger, a man whose hatred for the life he was brought into has twisted him into something unrecognizable. And you? You’re just another casualty of it.

No matter how much you try to explain, no matter how much you try to reach him, the gap between you two widens. He’s Red Hood, and you’re Batgirl. The two identities, both born from tragedy, will never be able to coexist peacefully. Every time you suit up, every time you fight to prove yourself, you feel the divide grow stronger. You’ve both chosen your paths, and with that choice, you’ve irreparably lost each other.

For a while, you only ever saw Barbara as the GCPD commissioner’s daughter, Dick’s friend. She had always been around, and was a frequent family friend. You never really understood why she was so deeply tied with your family until you found out the truth.

When you found out that she’d been the first Batgirl, you were amazed, and frankly, you wanted to be just like her. She, who has done so much and fought alongside your family in many battles, who has done so much to protect Gotham. Maybe this was the way for you to get close with your father and older brother. You had to prove yourself through this. That’s what you thought.

Which is why when you approached Barbara one day with the idea of being Batgirl, you expected support, encouragement, maybe even a bit of excitement. After all, she had once worn the cape and fought crime in Gotham’s shadows. But no, apparently you were getting in over your head.

Barbara’s face hardened the moment you mentioned the mantle. Her mantle. She immediately refused, telling you that it was dangerous. At first, you thought she was being protective. Jason had died not too long ago doing this, so maybe that’s why. Which is why you relented. But as she continued, you saw the weight of her words—the deep, painful truth that came from experience.

She recounted her time as Batgirl, her fight against the criminals of Gotham, and how the Joker had shattered her body and soul in a way that no physical injury could ever heal. She spoke of the night she was shot, of how she had lost everything—her mobility, her sense of security, and even a part of her identity. It wasn’t just the pain of what happened to her body—it was the mental toll of knowing that every choice she made brought her closer to losing herself.

You were taken aback, shocked by how strongly she felt. Was she really trying to stop you from becoming Batgirl? After everything she had endured, you couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t want you to follow in her footsteps. But Barbara wasn’t just speaking from a place of worry; she was speaking from experience. She had seen firsthand how dangerous this life was, how it consumed you piece by piece, and how it left scars that would never fade.

But even as you understood her perspective, the desire to prove yourself still burned fiercely inside of you. You wanted to be more than Bruce Wayne’s daughter, more than someone who had to hide in the shadows. You wanted to stand beside your family, to help Gotham in the only way you knew how. You wanted to honour Jason for what he did for Gotham, and continue it for him. Which is why you relented, and eventually, just like everyone else, Barbara gave in. Because she knew couldn’t change your mind no matter what. Which is why she takes you on and helps with your training.

However, just like Bruce, she too only assigned you cases thst she knew you could handle. Even though Barbara had reluctantly agreed to help you become Batgirl, it was clear from the start that she wasn’t going to make it easy on you. She trained you relentlessly, teaching you the ins and outs of combat, tactics, and the stealthy finesse that Gotham’s criminals required. But even in her guidance, you could feel her hesitation. She never pushed you too far, always stopping just short of testing your limits, as though she was holding something back.

She would assign you cases, but they were always ones she knew you could handle—petty thefts, low-level gangs, the type of cases that wouldn’t put you in direct danger, that wouldn’t challenge you too much, and that she could step in and call someone else to take over if things ever went south.

At first, you didn’t mind. You were just glad to be training, to be doing something. But as time went on, the restrictions started to chafe at you. You could see how Barbara’s protective nature was keeping you in a bubble—one that was too small, one that didn’t prepare you for what Gotham truly was. You didn’t want to be stuck fighting the small-time criminals; you wanted to face the real threats, the ones that could change Gotham for the better after being dealt with.

The frustration mounted. Every time she handed you a case, every time she stopped you from pursuing something more dangerous, you felt your desire to prove yourself slipping further and further away. You knew you couldn’t keep doing this forever. Gotham was too big, the stakes too high, and you were capable of so much more. You had to break free from Barbara’s shadow, from her protective grip, and finally prove that you were ready for the challenges that came with being Batgirl—not just in name, but in action. Which is why you started doing more. Did more than you needed to, took one too many unnecessary risks.

But everything shifted when Barbara took in Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown, both taking up the mantle of Batgirl at some point. It stung. The sense of being sidelined was undeniable, and it hurt more than you had expected. Were you really that replaceable? Did you being Batgirl mean nothing?

Barbara’s training shifted with the new additions. She wasn’t the same mentor to you as she had been when you first started. She had become consumed with building Cassandra and Stephanie up, preparing them for the same Gotham streets that had torn her apart. Except, it was obvious that Barbara saw then as more capable, more stronger to take on the streets. More prepared than you’ll ever be. You were no longer her first priority. In fact, you were hardly a priority at all.

The worst part was how Barbara handled it. Instead of talking to you, explaining her choices, she just… distanced herself. There were no more long training sessions, no more subtle encouragement. Your bond, the one that had felt so strong when she first took you in, weakened and thinned, becoming strained and distant. It was as though she had replaced you with them. Maybe she had.

It wasn’t just the feeling of being replaced by two new recruits; it was the complete lack of acknowledgment of everything you had sacrificed, everything you had worked for. You had pushed through every painful night, every bruise, every tear, just to earn your place. But now, it seemed like all that hard work meant nothing. You were left alone in the shadows once again, watching as the people you cared about, the people who had once been your mentors and family, moved on without you.

The rift between you and Barbara widened with each passing day. You tried to hold on to the hope that things would change, that things would go back to how they were before. But deep down, you knew they never would. Barbara had chosen her new proteges—her Batgirls—and you were left to try to make your own way in a family that no longer felt like your own.

And as the years went by, you still held onto that mantle, and Barbara grew more distant. She checked in on you doing patrols and missions as Oracle, but that was that.

Part 2 (Tim, Cassandra, Stephanie, Damian, Duke centered)

lmk your thoughts on this because this has been on my mind for so long <33

taglist (open): @tricksters-maze @dusk-muse @quethekillerqueen @silverklaus @isupportorbitalbombardment @nxdxsworld @vanessa-boo @coffeeaddictxd @moonsbluekingdom @yuya-bubbly @percythebitchwitch @anonymousdisco @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @redsakura101 @what-0-life @idkwhattoputhete @secretyouthcomputer @witch-waycult @allycat4458 | ask to be added <3

(idk why i can’t tag some of y’all, must be your settings i think 😓)

[starmocha]

I've placed a self-ban on myself from posting any new Sylus fics until I finish Bride of the Dragon King. 😔👉👈

But just know, I will absolutely write this scenario into a proper story eventually 😤

[ Masterlist ★ Series Index ]

Sylus + Little Birdie ☆ Daddy is a Kitty?

During one family weekend in Linkon City while visiting Meow's Café, Sylus has, once again, offended the kitties. They immediately punish him and turn him into a caracal. Again.

Sylus is irate.

He is sitting in a booth, legs and arms crossed, silently fuming, already plotting to buy Meow's Café just so he can bulldoze it.

You're frantically appealing to OTTO Manager who feels just as helpless (omg someone pls save OTTO Manager, they're not paid to deal with any of this BS)

The kitties are meowing loudly, rebelling, and yelling about how Sylus deserves this, and they refuse to change him back 😾

Little Birdie stares in wonder amidst all of the commotion and chaos.

Slowly, she walks over and climbs onto the booth, and then into Sylus' lap.

Sylus is lost in his head, too angry to even notice her. He is just acting on his paternal instinct when he steadied her to keep her from falling.

She reaches up and lightly touches one ear. It twitches. She giggles. She gently scratches Sylus' new ear.

The café suddenly goes quiet as everyone hears a soft voice singing:

🎶 Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur. Happy kitty, sleepy kitty. Purr, purr, purr. 🎶

Sylus closes his eyes and unwittingly starts to purr.

He suddenly breaks out of his trance, and he looks down, surprised to see his daughter smiling up at him.

She had sensed Sylus' anger earlier, so she asks with a soft, sweet smile, "Does Daddy feel better now? 🥹"

Sylus' face softens. He smiles and leans down to kiss her cheek. He is still mad that he was turned into a caracal again, but seeing his daughter's sweet smiling face calms him down immediately.

"Yes, baby, I feel better now," he answers, giving her a hug and another kiss on her cheek.

The kitties are touched by this scene and unanimously agree to reverse his punishment. 😺😸

BONUS SCENES

Sylus sings 'Soft Kitty' with his daughter and the kitties are mad again 😾 (at him, of course 😔)

One month punishment as a caracal and he is also banned from Meow's Café for the duration of his sentence.

You're dismayed.

Baby Birdie is delighted. "YAY KITTY DADDY."

Sylus shrugs, resigned.

[Later at home in the N109 Zone]

Normally, your daughter is very easy to put to bed, but tonight she is insisting on only wanting kitty daddy to put her to bed and sing her a lullaby. (Poor child is also tone deaf and is the only one who enjoys Sylus' singing 😔 /J)

"Daddy is taking a shower right now, baby. Come on, Mommy can sing you a lullaby. Better than Daddy as well..."

Baby Birdie is disappointed, but she doesn't fight you on this. "Can Daddy sing me to sleep tomorrow, Mommy? 🥺"

"Of course, baby. 🙂" (You @ you: WHY DOES SHE LIKE HIS SINGING SO MUCH??? 😐😮‍💨😭)

You manage to get her to sleep eventually and when you return to the master bedroom, you find Sylus is already in bed.

"She's finally asleep," you tell him, exhausted. "She only wants kitty daddy right now."

He smirks, amused. His ears twitch, and his tail sways from side to side.

When you get into bed, you notice Sylus is...very frisky.

"Sy-SYLUS???"

He laughs and grins lecherously. "Isn't it time for us kitties to play?"

"We made such a cute daughter already," he continues, unabashed, "Maybe it's time we start on our next...'litter,' and give her siblings. 😈"

[THE END BECAUSE THIS IS A ✨️WHOLESOME SERIES✨️ OK. I WRITE ENOUGH SYLUS BREEDING FICS ALREADY. 😔

But something something implications and something something Sylus needing to rut because of his feline instincts rn 😔😔😔]

[harrywavycurly]

Worth the Fight Part 2: City of Love

Masterlist: Here

CW: Mentions of pregnancy, language, bit of light arguing, brief details of the hook up in the bathroom, miscommunication and a touch of panic attack symptoms mentioned.

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden

A/N: I know it’s not Thursday but I just wanted to get this up because this week is a busy one for me! Hope yall enjoy it!!✨

Summary: Harry gets the confirmation he needs but wasn’t really expecting while you try to be as nice as possible to him, oh and Harry meets your cat! So enjoy getting a little look at the way your personalities work/clash together✨

“So uh-you’re actually pregnant.” Harry says with a heavy sigh as he watches you dig around in your purse for your car keys. You pause your search so you can look up at him just in time to see him run a hand over his face. “I just really thought maybe your tests were wrong? Like maybe you got a bad batch or something and-”

“A bad batch? Harry I took four different kinds of tests.”

“Well yeah but still I just don’t know how this happened?”

“Did your parents not have the talk with you about how babies are made? Surely you know how this happened.” Harry ignores your snippy remark as you resume your search for your keys as he presses the down button for the elevator.

The two of you just got done visiting with your doctor who confirmed you are in fact pregnant and suggested a well known obstetrician and gynecologist, Dr. Andrews that could take over and do the paternity test once you call and set up an initial appointment with his office and see exactly how far along you are. You weren’t shocked by the news, but Harry on the other hand sat there with his mouth hung open as if he didn’t expect it at all and you aren’t sure why considering you told him how many tests you took and how they all said pregnant in different ways. You know he had to be reminded of how the two of you met, seeing as he meets so many people and all but you just assumed that once he had his moment of clarity and remembered meeting you that the memory of the rest of the evening would also begin to not be as fuzzy for him but he’s proving that theory very wrong with every confused glance and silly question he tosses your way.

“I thought we were careful?” He questions once the elevator doors open up allowing the two of you to step inside, you let out a chuckle as he moves to stand next to you crossing his arms over his chest while he shoots you a glare. “Are you giggling? What’s so funny about this?” You just shake your head as you finally feel your keys on the bottom of your purse.

“Oh you-you’re being serious?” You ask as you look over at him with a raised brow making him nod his head in response. “I wasn’t aware that the pull out method was really even considered a form of being careful?” Harry’s eyes go wide as his arms fall to his sides and that’s how you figure out he really is struggling to put the pieces together of what exactly happened in that bathroom so you decide to give him just one more detail to help him understand how the two of you really ended up in this situation.

“And by the way in order for that method to work you actually have to pull out.” You add casually as you reach over and press the button for the lobby while Harry’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink as he looks down at the floor in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.

“So are you going to want to be at all the appointments?” You ask a few minutes later as the two of you enter the lobby of the medical building your doctor’s office is in. Harry looks around and brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck while you adjust the strap of your purse on your shoulder as you wait for him to answer.

“I don’t know? I just-this is a lot.” He finally replies a few moments later making you purse your lips and slowly nod your head before you turn and head for the front entrance of the building. Harry doesn’t know what to do but he knows the two of you have things to discuss so he just quickly rushes to catch up to you and when he finds you heading for a small beat up looking car that’s parked in a very obvious no parking zone his eyebrows pinch together while his hand reaches out to grab your elbow causing you to stop walking and look at him over your shoulder.

“Look I’ll tell you how my next appointment goes and when they can do the paternity test-”

“Is this your car?” Harry asks interrupting your little rant, you watch his eyes go from your face to the car directly behind you.

“Yes. She’s very reliable even though she looks a bit rough.” You say in your car’s defense as you take a step away from him making his hand fall from its hold on your elbow as he stares at you in almost disbelief as you take your car key and unlock the passenger side door and toss your purse inside before closing it so you can turn and face Harry with your arms loosely crossed over your chest.

“This can’t be safe for you to be driving around in.” You roll your eyes at his statement as he takes a step to the side so he can give your car a proper once over and when he sees a dent on the front bumper he raises an eyebrow while pointing at it. “You run into things a lot?” He asks as he looks over at you from where he’s now stood near the front of your car.

“Leave Melanie alone okay she’s nice and gets me where I need to go.” You snap at him as you turn and place a hand on top of your car so you can give it a little pat. “I’ve had her since I was seventeen so yeah she’s got a few bumps-”

“Melanie? You named your car? Have you really had this thing since you were seventeen?”

“Yes Melanie just fits her and yeah Harry I’ve had this thing since I was seventeen because most people keep their cars for a while since we can’t all have a driver to take us places or have a fancy collection of cars we don’t use.” Harry doesn’t say anything in response so after a few moments of silence you take that as a sign the conversation is over so you just turn to round the front of the car and get into the driver’s seat.

“You’re in a no parking zone you know that right?” Harry says breaking the silence just as you open your door, you look at the sign that’s posted on the sidewalk right above where you’re parked and just shrug making Harry let out a huff as he rolls his eyes.

“I was in a hurry.”

“You mean you were running late?”

“No I mean I was in a hurry.”

“Are you late to a lot of things? Is that something I should get used to?”

“I don’t know Harry do you want to get used to me?”

“What? That’s not-not what I meant I just want to know if you’re late a lot?”

“I wasn’t late today was I?”

“No but clearly you were worried about it since you were rushing enough to just park in a no parking zone-what if your car would’ve gotten towed? What would you have done?” While he’s speaking you take the time to look him over and that’s when you notice it, his hands are clenching and unclenching fists by his sides and his cheeks are slightly flushed and his eyes are a bit wide, he looks like he’s on the verge of a panic attack of some sort and him asking you these pointless questions is his attempt at holding it off.

You ignore his eyes that dart to various parts of your face and upper half of your body as if his mind can’t decide where it wants to focus as you close the driver’s side door with a bit of force making sure it stays closed and round the front of your car so you’re standing in front of him. You wonder for a moment as you stare at him if it’s your hormones already kicking in that makes you feel the need to make him feel better or if it’s just Harry who has this extremely annoying power to drive you to the brink of wanting to smack him a few time with your purse and leave him standing on the sidewalk alone and confused to all of a sudden switching it up to were you’re wanting to make sure he’s okay when he shows you any signs of distress. He watches your hands as they reach out and grab his and when you fill the gaps between his fingers with your own and give his hands a nice solid squeeze you watch his chest fall as he lets out a deep breath and his shoulders slump a bit. You look him in his eyes and give him a small smile while still giving his hands little reassuring squeezes.

“Would you like to come over? Have some tea?” Your question not only shocks Harry but you as well, not sure what came over you to even let the words slip out of your mouth, surely it’s just the hormones. Harry chews on his bottom lip for a moment before he looks down at his watch on his right wrist, checking the time before he looks back up at you.

“Uh sure yeah-yeah I can come over for a bit.” He answers with a nod. You just let go of his hands and reach over for the passenger side door handle so you can open it for him. Harry quickly looks at you with worried eyes and begins shaking his head and backing away from you while trying to reach into the front pocket of his jeans for his phone.

“Oh no I’ll just call my-”

“Harry.” You say with a sigh as you continue to hold the door open for him, he stops fumbling for his phone and stares at you making you roll your eyes as you gesture to the passenger seat with a tilt of your head.

“Just get in the car.” With that Harry just lets out a groan as he reluctantly takes a step towards the open door and bends down so he can pick up your purse off the seat. You bite back a laugh as you watch him have to duck down a bit to get into your car and he makes a show of buckling himself in nice and tightly once he’s sat in the seat. You give him a smile as he places your purse in his lap just as you close the door for him so you can go and get into the driver’s seat and take the two of you to your apartment.

“Do you have a cat?” You look at Harry over your shoulder from where you’re making yourself a cup of herbal tea in the kitchen and smile when you see him messing with a random stuffed mouse that somehow ended up on your table.

As if on queue Harry looks down as he feels something rub against his shin and you see a small smile tug at the corners of his lips when he sees your orange cat greeting him with a few purrs but it’s when you see him rub his head against Harry’s ankles that you feel obligated to warn him about something.

“Oh but watch out he might-” your words get cut off by a tiny squeal from Harry as he takes a step towards you with his eyes set in a glare aimed at the orange cat that’s decided to now head into the living room since Harry didn’t allow him to fully chomp down on his ankle like he wanted.

“He just bit me.” Harry states as he watches your cat jump onto your sofa and quickly flop down into a comfortable laying position. “He bit my ankle.” He explains while turning to now give you his full attention making you just shrug as you reach for the honey to add to your mug.

“Yeah well his name is Paris so he kinda has a thing for ankles.” Harry stares at the side of your face as you go about making your tea while explaining why your cat just bit his ankle and he rolls his eyes at how casual you are about it, but that’s something Harry is learning about you, you don’t seem to take a lot of things that seriously.

“What’s the city of love have to do with ankles?” He asks as you give the liquid in your mug a nice stir, he watches the way his question makes your brows pinch together and when you turn to look at him he sees your face looks almost concerned and he can’t imagine why considering the two of you are just talking about your cat.

“He’s named after Paris as in the one who killed Achilles.” When Harry just raises an eyebrow in response to your explanation you let out a long sigh as you pick up your mug. “Have you heard of Troy?”

“The Brad Pitt movie?” You have to fight off the urge to reach over and flick him in the ear at his answer but you just shake your head and walk past him and into your living room.

“No not the Brad Pitt movie I mean the actual story of Troy? With Achilles and Hector? The Trojan horse and all that?” Harry follows you into the living room and makes a mindful choice not to sit on the couch with the orange cat that just tried to make a meal out of his ankle, opting for the loveseat that’s placed across from the couch with a little coffee table in between the two pieces of furniture.

“Hector and the little horse thing are in the Brad Pitt movie though.” Harry explains as you get comfortable on the couch making Paris lift his head and look around to see who has come into the room and disturbed his peace.

“Little horse thing? Are you-you know what it’s not important.” You take a sip of your tea to help calm yourself down before placing it on the coffee table, Harry takes the opportunity to glance down and he quirks an eyebrow when he sees the name of the tea on the little tag hanging out of the mug.

“Paris shot Achilles in the ankle so that’s why I named him Paris…because he attacks the ankles of people he doesn’t like.” You smile as the orange cat stretches out next to you placing a paw on your thigh while Harry just lets out a scoff at the idea of your cat not liking him.

“You drink peppermint tea with honey? That’s criminal. And also there’s no way he doesn’t like me considering he just met me.” You laugh as you reach over and run your hand over Paris’s back making him purr while still keeping his eyes closed.

“Oh and it’s so hard to imagine someone not liking you after just meeting you?”

“Well yeah because he doesn’t know me so how can he not like me?”

“He knows enough to want to bite your ankle the first chance he got.”

“That’s because you’ve probably poisoned him against me.” You laugh and roll your eyes as Harry leans over and grabs your mug of tea off the table and brings it to his lips so he can taste it. “And that’s disgusting by the way.” He states with a face of disgust making you glare at him as you lean over and grab the mug from his hand before he can set it back down on the table.

“And I remember you being taller.” You mumble while Harry just glares at you from his spot on the loveseat. “What? You insulted my tea so I’m allowed to insult your-”

“I can’t really do anything about my height but you can and absolutely should fix the way you make tea because no one should be mixing honey with peppermint.” He argues as he watches you with a narrowed glare as you take a sip of your tea, you watch as he leans forward and rests his forearms on his knees and clasps his hands together.

“Is this how you always act when someone invites you into their home as a way of calming you down when you’re on the verge of a panic attack? You just insult them and-”

“I wasn’t having a panic attack.”

“You were maybe two minutes away from one and please stop interrupting me it’s so rude and isn’t your whole thing about treating people with-”

“How are you not panicking? You’re having a baby possibly my baby and you’re just sat there with your nasty tea and-”

“That’s it.” You say with a huff and Harry flinches slightly as you all but slam your mug down onto the table before standing up causing Paris to jolt awake at your sudden outburst. “You’ve insulted my car and my tea today and I was going to let it slide because that’s fine we can have differences in opinions on tea and cars but that’s on top of the fact you don’t even remember what happened between us that night and you think the story of Troy is just a Brad Pitt movie and I just-I think you should leave now.” Harry blinks up at you as your hands fall to your sides in what he almost thinks is a sign of defeat, as if you lost the internal battle you were having with yourself on trying to keep your cool with him and that makes his mouth droop a bit into a small frown.

“I remember plenty about what happened that night.” He counters as he slowly stands up while you grab your mug and turn towards the kitchen. Harry reaches for his phone in his front pocket so he can text his driver your address and a message to please come get him as soon as possible.

“If that were true then today wouldn’t have been such a shock for you.” You explain before you disappear from Harry’s sight, he can’t really put a finger on the exact feeling that comes over him as he stands there in your living room knowing that everything you said is true. He doesn’t remember exactly what went on between the two of you, at least not very clearly.

He knows that the two of you had an intimate moment in the bathroom because the evidence was shown to him this afternoon when the doctor handed him a piece of paper that told him you are truly pregnant and this is all really happening. Since then he hasn’t been able to think straight or focus on much of anything and if he’s being honest he really isn’t good in stressful situations in general, he tends to either overreact or just panic and this by far is one of the most stressful situations he’s ever found himself in and he knows he isn’t handling himself the way he should be. And your calm and relaxed demeanor just seems to make him even more unnerved because he doesn’t get how you’re not in the same panic riddled boat as him.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, giving a tug at his roots as he glances down to your couch, he catches Paris do a lengthy stretch before he sits up briefly just to look at Harry and decide that even he is fed up with him so he jumps off the couch and walks off into the kitchen. Now in that moment Harry knows he should do that as well, follow your cat’s lead and walk into your cramped kitchen so he can at least attempt to apologize for a few things but he doesn’t. Instead he just runs a knuckle under his nose as he sniffles a bit and when he feels his phone vibrate and sees a text letting him know his driver is on his way he lets out a heavy sigh. He takes one last look at your kitchen entryway, hoping that maybe you’ll come back and sit down on the couch and he thinks that he wouldn’t even mind if you didn’t say anything but just sat there not looking at him so that way he would at least be able to tell you goodbye and prove to you that he’s capable of being polite but the sound of the sink being turned on quickly wash away any traces of hope he might’ve had.

“This is so fucked.” He mumbles to himself as he walks towards your front door, he knows better than to leave the two of you like this, with certain things needing to be spoken and unkind words being the last ones said but he doesn’t have much of a choice since you won’t come out of the kitchen. So Harry opens your front door and walks out into the hallway making sure to close it as quietly as possible deciding that maybe this is for the best and at least he’s giving you exactly what you asked for, him leaving.

You watch the last bits of your tea go down the drain as the sound of your front door opening and then closing hits your ears, you take a few steps back from the sink so you can poke your head out into the living room and when you see it’s empty you just let out a sigh and go back to cleaning your mug. You didn’t want to end your afternoon like this, standing alone in your kitchen because your patience was worn too thin for the man who somehow managed to charm you into agreeing to a quickie in a bar bathroom over a month ago.

You almost don’t even know how that man and the one who was sat in your living room not even five minutes ago are the same person. The Harry you met at the bar was fun and flirty and even though he teased you throughout the night it was never with any real intention to hurt your feelings while this Harry can’t help but take every chance he can get to insult you or toss a jab your way about something. You don’t know why the corners of your mouth turn downwards at the idea of the night you two met never really meaning anything to him aside from being the night he got you pregnant. You don’t get to think about it for too much longer as Paris jumps onto the counter and makes his way over to sit next to the sink momentarily taking your mind off the curly haired boy.

“We can do this right? We’ll be fine won’t we?” You ask him while he sits there looking at you with his big green yellow-ish eyes that all of a sudden remind you a bit too much of the man who just left your apartment without even saying goodbye. “Next time bite him a bit harder okay?”

[moongothic]

Crocodad AU where immidiately after having left Dragon and his baby boy Crocodile finds an 11 year old Robin. And while he's 100% only recruiting her so they can make a beeline for the Poneglyph and Pluton in Alabasta by the two of them... Crocodile accidentally sorta kinda adopts Robin.

At this point Robin's been running for her life from the Government for three years so her deep trust issues and fear of betrayal are starting to take root in her little heart. Like perhaps they haven't taken fully over yet, and being still a child I'm sure Robin might've still had that genuine hope that she could find a safe place to stay in. But I'm sure the though of "what'll he'll do with me once he gets what he wants?" would be nagging at her at the back of her mind. Meanwhile Crocodile's struggling between the pain and hurt he's already gone through and given him his trademark trust issues, as well as the aftermath of The Dragodile Divorce. But he also has his Fresh Paternal Instincts and probably misses his baby. So when given a small, scared child who is running for her life, being chased by the very same Government that'll want his son dead if they ever find out about him... Yeah that might fuck with your brain a little

You know this post was supposed to be just that first paragraph and just a few footnotes from the following two paragraphs. And then I kept on Having Thoughts. And I kept on writing them down. And oh no what happened when did this post get so long (Look I was going to either kept on writing my Additional Thoughts in the tags or I just put them in the actual fucking post)

Like considder this: based on this one SBS, we can kinda tell that if Crocodile was given a chance to raise a child, that child would be a spoiled little shit, right

So in this scenario, where Crocodile's looking after lil Robin, would he be kind of torn? Unsure how to feel about her?

Because on one hand, this strange child would have the potential to not only ruin his plans, strip him of his Shichibukai Privileges by outing him and his plans to the World Government, but also put his son in grave danger by extension (if she found out about him having been involved with the Revolutionaries and/or having a child). But on the other hand, his paternal instincts could make him want to spoil this poor little girl rotten. But only because he needs to (perhaps literally) buy her trust so she'll behave. No other reason, he doesn't feel sorry for her one bit, no sirree. (But maybe he did feel sorry for her, since his son could very well end up exactly like her. Poor little thing) (Which is why he needs to nuke Marijoa out of orbit as soon as possible, no matter the cost, and this child can't get in the way of Crocodile protecting his son) (But also this is a child. Like how bad could she be. Besides all he really needs to do to win her trust is be nice and make her feel safe, right?)

Of course, while I'm suggesting Crocodile could have some parental instincts, realistically, he hasn't actually spent any time being, you know, a father to a child (looking after his newborn for an unknown though short amount of time aside), so it's possible he wouldn't even know how to parent Robin even if he wanted to, would he? (Like taking care of a newborn and an 11 year old kid aren't the same either) So if he was kind of just emotionally flipflopping between No Trusting Ever and It's Just A Kid for God's Sake, Crocodile trying to be nice to Robin to make her feel safe and then telling himself to stop being so soft and vunerable... Yeah that would make for an absolute mess of a relationship. (Not to mention, let's be real, dude's a scary motherfucker too, and a bloody giant compared to itty bitty baby Robin. He could keep on accidentally scaring the shit out of Robin (who would be On Fucking Edge To Begin With) by just Being Himself. Like for example, can you fucking imagine if he caught Robin trying to cheer herself up with a little "dereshishishi" only to tell her to stop because "it was stupid"? 'Cause I can imagine him doing that, and boy howdy would that make Robin feel bad)

Or who knows, maybe Crocodile was just Born To Be A Dad, maybe he just Fucking Gets It. Like Crocodile is canonically pretty good at manipulating people to do what he wants them to do (see: how he played Vivi like a fiddle), so knowing Robin's position and understanding how she feels, maybe he COULD completely nail how she needed to be treated. Not being too familiar but still making her feel safe and happy, knowing exactly when to be stern and when to spoil her, etc. Dude just goes off and wins the Dad of the Year Award while being a deadbeat dad himself. The only thing Crocodile would have to worry about then would be making sure HE doesn't get too fond of her. And certainly that could never happen, he's so in-touch with his own feelings and so grounded, he's not a softie, get outta here. Or maybe he does but never realizes until it's too late and good luck backpedalling on those emotions now dumbass

Alright so, the reason I went on that whole rmble is just that like. I'm so interested in the relationship Robin and Crocodile already have in canon. I'm so facinated and curious about how the two feel about each other, considdering they did spend 4 whole years of their lives together as criminal business partners, though neither ever trusted the other. A partnership that was only ended because Robin betrayed Crocodile, out of her own trauma. (God, I want to see these two "reunite" so bad, I want to know how they feel about each other now after the timeskip and Robin joining the idiot in flipflops who foiled Croc's plans)

My question here is just that... if they had met 13 years earlier, would things have been different? Especially if Crocodad Real? Because as I mentioned in the begining, Robin would've been on the run for only 3 years by this point, as opposed to 16 years before running into Crocodile. Simultaneously, this would be before Crocodile went onto spend an entire decade all alone, slowly losing his marbles in his emotional solitude. They'd both be emotionally traumatized, yes, but would it have been as bad in this scenario? Like I did start this post kind of joking about Crocodile adopting Robin, and for clarity's sake I don't think they'd have like a father-daughter relationship nececarily. But it would be a strange relationship still, because we'd have two broken people, both struggling to trust anyone. One who had lost her mother and her only friends, leaving her all alone and afraid while running for her life. The other a father who had just given up his son whom he probably missed dearly. Both having these holes in their hearts from loss of family, holes that could not be filled with replacements. But could they find comfort in each other anyway, because they still as people occupy similar roles to their respective loved ones? If they both could just get over those trust issues?

Okay I've been going off on the Emotional Side Of Things for this AU Concept, THERE'S PLOT TOO

So if Crocodile did pick Robin up like 19 years ago, that should be before he set up base in Alabasta, long before he had built is homebase and financial empire etc.

Now the thing is, while we don't know when, where and how Crocodile learned about the Ancient Weapons, Pluton specifically and how the lead on it would be in Alabasta... Considdering Crocodile did once upon a time aim to become Pirate King, it would make perfect sense if he had learned about Poneglyphs during his past adventures, as he would have needed to get the Road Poneglyphs to find One Piece. And while the World Government did bury the truth about why Ohara had been burned down and why Robin had been given her bounty (remember, the WG claimed it was because she had sunken a fleet of battleships, which she had not, it was because she could read the Poneglyphs), considdering this is a Crocodad AU specifically, you could totally make an argument Crocodile could've learned about what actually happened to Ohara from Dragon and co. So, just to make this AU work, you could just assume Crocodile learned about the concept of the Ancient Weapons from Dragon. And who knows, maybe he overheard the truth about why Robin had been given her bounty from Dragon too (maybe Dragon was able to get intel from Garp in secret) or while going to Marijoa himself to attend a Shichibukai meeting or something IDK.

Maybe he learned about Pluton being in Alabasta before finding Robin by accident, and maybe they made a beeline for Alabasta the second Croc recruited Robin. Travelling takes time and the guy would've most likely had to find an Eternal Pose to Alabasta just to get there (also canonically Robin didn't enter the Grand Line until her 20s so they should've met in West Blue probably, since that's where Ohara was) Or maybe Crocodile had to haul Robin around for a few months while looking for That Missing Piece of Information that would lead him to Alabasta. (Imagine the two travelling from like island to island, library to library, Crocodile trying to find that leads while Robin's just so excited about ALL THESE BOOKS (she's helping too with the research) (but to her, research is playtime, so she's just having the time of her life) (Also, notice how Crocodile's Theoretical Child is a fucking loser ass nerd? Yeah Crocodile would encourage Robin reading and studying, surely. And that would be fucking cute))

But like, once they set sail to Alabasta...

Sure, Crocodile could try to do it The Slow Way that we know he tried in canon, building trust and creating his little empire etc. But also, in canon, Crocodile couldn't have jumped into action head first because without Robin, even if he had found the Poneglyph he couldn't have read it and found the location of Pluton. Crocodile choosing to do it the slow way may have been partially because he didn't have much of a choise and it could've felt like the smarter move long-term.

But in this scenario, he already has Robin. Yes, he could do it the slow, secure way.

But what'd be there stopping him from infiltrating Cobra's palace and kidnapping him (in the night, when nobody suspects a thing), demanding Cobra to spill the beans lest Crocodile kills him and/or his pregnant wife* (*Vivi was born 10 months after Luffy so depending on how long it's been between Crocodad leaving Luffy behind and this scenario... Yeah either the wife is there, still pregnant, or there's a newborn Baby Vivi)

Like it'd be a risky move but depending on how ballsy Croc's feeling and how confident he feels in being able to kidnap the king without being noticed... Yeah he could probably do it. And I'm sure he'd have no problem killing Cobra either, if anything it'd be required if he didn't want the Government to find out he was out to find Pluton, and god knows Cobra would tell on Crocodile if left alive. I could see Crocodad being maybe a little iffy about killing Baby Vivi though (it's not like the newborn baby could report him to the WG anyways), but if nothing else, he just needs to be able to pull off the bluff of his life to convince Cobra to do as he's told. And we all know Crocodile's good at convincing people.

The only question is, how would Robin take that?

Watching Crocodile go into Full Murder Mode, hearing him say he'd kill a pregnant woman/a newborn baby if he didn't get what he wanted? Like yeah, I'm sure 11 year old Robin would be fine with that, that wouldn't make any alarm bells go off in her head at all, it'd be fiiiine. IT WOULD NOT BE FINE, SHE'D BE SCARED SHITLESS. That fear of "what will he do with me when he gets what he wants"? Well, Robin may not have found the answer to that question in particular, but she certainly found the answer to the opposite question, and it's not good

So say Cobra, kidnapped (perhaps with Baby Vivi) by Crocodile in the night, guides the two to the Poneglyph under the tombs. Crocodile puts Cobra out of his misery because he's not needed anymore. And he asks Robin to read the Poneglyph for him.

Robin, who has spent the last little while, be it weeks or months with Crocodile, him having become her "guardian", the thing keeping her safe. Crocodile, who has now shown how cold blooded and cruel he can be. Robin, who might be scared out of her mind. Of him.

And the Poneglyph says Pluton, the thing Crocodile wants, isn't there. It's in Wano.

What's she going to do?

EDIT: I wrote a sequel post, enjoy

[littlcdarlin]

HENRY, COME ON

𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒘𝒐

summary: Joel's paternal feelings for you have long turned into something else, and the blurred edges of your relationship seem almost normal to the two of you. warnings: Daddy Kink (heavy on that warning, he is reader’s father figure), big age gap (unspecified, sort of), somnophilia, cock warming, not dark!Joel but he’s too obsessed with her for it to be considered healthy, sort of dubious consent, praise kink, breeding kink, made up USA geography by a European

note: this was so much fun! Enjoy reading, and share if you’d like.

read the rest of this series here

Through the prairie, where memories interrupt Under the moonlit sky, where the tumbleweeds roam I'll find solace, I'll find my way home

When Joel found you, you were curled up and cowering, shivering with fear. You looked so young, so helpless, it didn’t even feel like his decision to take you in, to tell you he’d keep you safe, to give you the last of the food in his backpack and one of his spare pullovers. You were more than tentative, almost non responsive, except for when he held out the can of soup. Your tiny hands snatched it from him, purple with cold und malnourishment.

It took you a while to stop seeing him as a threat, but he gave you your very own sleeping bag and made you a dark and bitter substance in the mornings – coffee. You hadn’t had it before him, though many people talked about it with a dreamy look on their face. Joel wasn’t dreamy, especially not when he thought of the time before the outbreak, but even his eyes glassed over a little.

After a while you let yourself sleep in his presence, and he never gave you a reason to regret your trust in him. In your slumber, you looked free of the burdens of this world, and he enjoyed watching your moonlit face twitch and soften with sleep. There was a definite pull urging him to stroke your back, to let you wrap your fingers around his hand the way Sarah had when she was a baby. She hadn’t been able to fall asleep without it, her tiny fist clutching one of his fingers like a lifeline. You reminded him of her, although you must have been ten years older than she was when he lost her.

That difference in age became prominent when you asked him if you could try a sip of the whiskey he had found at an abandoned gas station, and he looked into your pleading eyes, lit up by the bonfire he showed you how to make, and gave in. You took a swig, and coughed, though not as much as he thought you would. You told him you liked the burn, and had some more, before he snatched the bottle away from you. ’S enough, don’t want ya gettin’ sick. 

That night, huddled together for warmth, you’d squirmed against him, turned your trembling body around to burrow your face in his chest, and pressed an open-mouthed kiss right above the collar of his pullover. He’d jolted away, not so much appalled by your touch as by his body’s reaction to it – a soft tremor in his loins and stomach, something he wasn’t able to shake from then on. It was there, whenever you moved against him, or changed in front of him, or drank from a can of Dr. Pepper if he managed to find you one, your pretty lips wrapping around the aluminum with indecent ignorance. No, you weren’t Sarah’s age – you were well past your puberty, and in any other scenario he might have been able to shake the guilt, but it was undeniable that his relationship to you was of paternal nature.

You tried again, when he bashed a raider’s skull in for almost breaking your arm. Your gratitude came in form of a clumsy kiss, pressed right against his lips, and he took you firmly by the shoulder, pushing you away – though not unkindly. 

Can’t be doin’ that, kid.

Why not?, you asked with a voice so close to petulant, he wondered if you might not be a teenager after all.

Cause I’m too old for ya.

Old means strong.

That made him swallow, because you were right – old age was the equivalent of survival in this world, not a symbol of weakness, but something people were envious of. He knew, too, that you had had limited interactions with men before him that weren’t threatening, so he assumed it was somewhat understandable your desires focused on him – you didn’t have boybands or actors or friends to project them onto. You had Joel, and that was it. For a long time, he was everything to you – a father figure, yes, but also a teacher (he told you all he knew so as to prepare you for the world out there, even the bits of broken Spanish he was able to remember), a friend (when you started talking more, he discovered a biting sense of humor underneath the mask of silence), a doctor (you knew each other’s bodies by heart for that very reason: sore backs, pulled muscles, open wounds, lung infections).

You persisted with this new role you wanted him to take on, and sometimes he heard you at night, hand rustling underneath your sleeping bag, soft little sighs of his name when you thought he was asleep. It flattered him, hell, it did way more than that – but he didn’t give into your crush, not for a long time.

His restraint was hanging on by a thread for months, but it was hanging on. You never spoke about your obvious desire for him – how you’d kiss him as a thank you, how you’d curl into his body even after the cold months had passed – and he didn’t either, just gently stopped you, over and over again. He thought you must have known of his returned affections, mainly because you didn’t seem ashamed by his repeated rejection. You were a timid girl, and he knew if you thought he was truly, from the depths of his heart and gut, telling you he didn’t want you, it would have crumbled you with embarrassment. Part of him was eternally grateful for your persistence – he got to have you, at least partly, at least sometimes, and he also got to stay on the right side of the line he didn’t dare cross, by refusing you. He knew if you were anyone else, he would have snapped by now, yelled at you, sent you to sleep on your own, but then again, he never wanted anyone the way he wanted you.

So your relationship was in a liminal state for the first year – he would tuck you into bed at night, kiss your forehead goodnight, and you would catch his lips in a kiss beyond parental affection as he pulled away. He would throw you a stern look, tell you not to be ridiculous, switch off the light and have another whiskey while you slept – he didn’t know how to fall asleep without it.

You were still searching for Jackson when you came across two brothers named Henry and Sam, and you clearly took a liking to them. For a while, the four of you fended together, and you liked to play with Sam, who was shy, but seemed to enjoy your presence. The fact that children seemed to like you, and you flourished in the role of a caregiver, made something inside of Joel squirm, something he tried very hard not to examine. After a few weeks in the forest, he saw Henry kiss you through the tree trunks when it was his turn to wash up, down by the stream that was their lifeline. He hadn’t meant to interrupt the two of you, but he couldn’t help himself – something boiled over inside of him, and he cleared his throat, stepping into the clearing. You broke apart, you looking sheepish, Henry slightly guilty.

That night, he gave Henry a talking to (You think she needs that? You think lettin’ her care about someone else who’s just gonna fuckin’ let her down, who’s gonna leave or die, is a good idea?) and the younger man defended his actions. Joel knew he was right – you were an adult, he wasn’t your father, there was a real connection between you and both of the brothers – but he couldn’t bring himself to let it go. I want you gone in the morning, he said, you’re not breakin’ her heart on my fuckin’ watch. The next morning, you and Joel were alone. You cried for days, and Joel felt guilty, though not guilty enough to tell you what he had done. It was better this way, just the two of you. He did want you to have friends, just not while you were living life from day to day, trusting nobody and relying only on each other. Any relationships to outsiders were complications on the way to getting you to safety – the town Tommy had told him about.

He knew your loneliness ate at you, though you didn’t blame him for it, unaware of his role in your loss. That first night, when you kissed him, he didn’t want to hurt you further, so he let you, more than that, he kissed back. It soothed you the way nothing else could have, and even though you were miserable for a while, he noticed whenever he let himself give in and touched you, your spirits seemed to lift.

What did it matter if he still felt that protective pull for you he had only ever felt for Sarah? You got better, seemed content after a while, and he didn’t have the heart to disappoint you again. Sure, you still asked for his permission whenever you wanted a sip of his whiskey, and he did chastise you for swearing – that dynamic of your relationship hadn’t ended. But you also spent any lazy mornings you could afford in Joel’s lap, arms around his neck, pretty mouth all soft and pliant for him.

He noticed your squirming whenever he kissed you like that, felt your white-hot need so close to his own, but he knew if he let himself give in, he was a goner. No way to come back from crossing that line.

It took you about two more months to wear him down, and what finally made him snap was that name on your lips, the one he’d been called before, though only ever by Sarah. Daddy.

***

"Thank you, Daddy."

"You’re very welcome, baby."

Joel watches as you open the can with a satisfying tshhhh, your face lighting up as always when he finds you a Dr. Pepper. He doesn’t get what you like about them so much, hell, he didn’t even drink them back before they were twenty years past their expiration date. But nothing seems to make you happier than one of those cans, and he likes seeing you happy.

You’re in his lap, leaning against him as he’s leaning against the trunk of a tree – there aren’t many around, mostly just burnt grass. He’s fairly sure the two of you are somewhere in Utah now, though he lost his map when you had to take a detour to avoid a town crawling with infected. It’s hard to imagine ever having had to share bodyheat in this weather – the blinding sun blazing down on your hat-less heads, skin peeling off from the burn. He found some sunscreen in the same mall he got your Dr. Pepper from, though he’s not sure it still works. It’s better than nothing, though, at the very least it soothes your hot faces.

He knows you can’t stand the heat, so you move mainly at dusk or dawn, and he tries to focus your attention on pleasant things – the soda he gets you whenever he can, the release his hands and cock bring you, the tumbleweeds you giggle at whenever you see one. They so remind him of home, of Sarah – this whole state does. It’s not Texas, but it’s closer than most other places he’s spent the last years in. Home. It’s not a feeling he’s used to anymore, although sometimes he gets close to remembering it when he drags you onto his cock, feels you clench and flutter.

The wind is a welcome distraction from the stifling heat, and he’s grateful for the sweat on both your faces. At night it’s not so bad, and although it would be smart to get going now, walk as far as you can while it’s dark and you’re undisturbed, he grants you this night of rest. You don’t sleep well during the day, not in this weather, so he makes sure you get a couple of hours at night, at least every couple of days.

You’re quiet, sipping your sugary soda that will glue your teeth together, staring out into the great nothingness ahead of you – just grass and cicadas. Joel traces your knuckles with the tips of his fingers, only to feel your skin under his. When you’re this close to him, contentedly humming a tune he doesn’t recognize, he almost forgets as soon as you get to Jackson, your relationship will have to change, at least to a degree. He tries to make the most of the time he has left, enjoys your mouth and cunt and soft, soft skin as much as he can, makes you come as often as possible, in the shade of trees, in abandoned houses, in the backs of cars that haven’t moved in decades. You don’t deny him, ever, just as addicted to his touch as he is to yours. It’s a stiflingly hot oasis of solitude and memories of a life he can’t get back to.

He does still feel guilty for indulging in you when you’re who conjures up these memories most of the time, but the tumbleweeds don’t judge him, and neither does the sun, so he files the feeling safely away and just lets himself enjoy. It’s not like he’s doing it against your will, in fact, without your persistent kisses, he might not ever have given in.

You finish your Dr. Pepper, trace the white font with your thumb as Joel watches. From what he can see of your face, you look tired, and he’s glad he decided to let you rest tonight.

"We gotta get up early, baby, why don’t you try to get some rest? Can sleep on top of me, if it’s more comfortable."

You shrug, still looking at the can, and Joel puts a gentle hand on your side, squeezing it.

"I don’t wanna sleep," you say matter of factly, and Joel represses the urge to send you to bed the way he would have months ago.

"Well, then we might as well use the dark to walk," Joel says, and that earns him a glare. He almost chuckles.

"I don’t want to sleep, because," you begin, turning around in his lap so that you’re facing him and dropping the can on the ground next to the two of you, "I need you, Daddy."

You smile up at him so sweetly, and he feels himself harden under you, his own body betraying his principles.

"Please," you say quietly, eyes wide, "just let me sit on it and I’ll go to sleep, I promise."

He doesn’t know where you come up with these things on your own, there was no one before him who could have shown you. He groans, when your hands paw at his belt buckle, and slides one hand up your thigh.

"No movin’", he says sternly, "no squirmin’, no bouncing’, no nothin’. You’re gettin’ my cock and then you’re going to sleep, you understand? We got a long hike ahead of us."

"Promise, Daddy," you nod, and hike up your dress. In this heat, you’ve been wearing the lightest clothes you have, which for Joel meant seeing your perfect little body in a cotton sundress he’d tear right off of you if it wasn’t your only one. 

He opens his belt buckle and slides down his jeans, not bothering to take them off properly. He’s hard already, and he knows you’ll be wet – it takes you almost nothing to get there, just one or two touches from him. You’ve been resting between his legs for a while now, he knows how it always affects you.

He hoists you up so that you’re kneeling with on leg on each side of his, and drags your panties to the side – he was right, you’re dripping already.

"Jesus, baby, it’s almost cruel not to give it to ya," he says softly, and you stare up at him all hopeful. "No, not tonight – if you’re good, I’ll fuck you before we leave tomorrow mornin’."

You accept this without a fuss, possibly because you know Joel isn’t above denying you his cock completely. When he grabs your hips and aligns himself with your entrance, you sigh and move your hips impatiently. Joel smiles, and pulls you down slowly, the stretch of him making your brain go all foggy. He loves that expression on your face when he first pushes into you, and wishes he had a polaroid camera so that he could carry the picture with him everywhere.

You sigh contentedly when he’s fully inside of you, squirm just once, feeling his cock stretch you right up to your cervix, and finally resting your head against his shoulder.

"Thank you, Daddy," you mutter, already a little sleepy, "’s much better."

***

In the morning, Joel is still hard, though he’s pretty sure he drifted off and surely softened in his sleep again, but you woke him with little tremors of your hips and satisfied sighs in your sleep – apparently more than content to be sitting on his cock all night, stretched out and full. It fills him with deep contentment to know it’s what helps you relax, and he vows to try it during the day so that you have the cool nights for hiking. He wonders if you’re sore, but your face is entirely smooth, mouth slightly open and drooling onto his shirt. 

The sun is rising already, and he knows if you want to make the journey he planned for today, you need to get going soon, but he doesn’t want to deny you after you were so good for him all night. So he puts one arm around your smaller body, holding your waist and shifting his hips up slightly. You clench around him at the movement, and Joel groans softly, this time using both his arms to lift your sleepy body up and down on his cock. It feels heavenly after a night of torturous tension, and he’s surprised to find you’re still asleep, as his cock pushes in and out of you. Even after hours of sitting on it, you’re still tight around him, and Joel speeds up his movements so that your eyes flutter open, consciousness seeping back into you.

"D-daddy? – Ah," you moan, and start moving with Joel when you realize what’s going on, your body still limp with sleep.

"You can sleep, bunny," Joel mutters, "just makin’ you feel good before we leave."

"Okay," you mumble, but don’t close your eyes again. He bounces you up and down, your face scrunching up with pleasure, and for a second he envisions fucking you to completion while you’re sleeping – but that’s a plan for another day. You sigh and whimper, voice still laced with sleep, and Joel hits your special spot repeatedly.

"Want you to come for Daddy, bunny," Joel groans, because he knows he won’t last much longer himself, not after a night of you squirming on his cock.

"Yes, Daddy," you breathe, grasping at his shoulders, and screwing your eyes shut. You look far off, somewhere between sleep and pleasure, and Joel fucks up into you almost harshly. You whine, and with a flutter, come for him, your forehead falling to the crook of his neck.

"Good girl," Joel mumbles, fucking into you for a few more minutes. You’re sleepy again, your tired body still so willing and pliant, and when your eyes fall shut while Joel is still fucking you, he comes with a low groan, spilling all of his hot seed inside of you.

"Thank you, Daddy," you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and breathing in deeply. "Five more minutes?"

He obliges with a soft smile, stroking your back and feeling his cock soften inside of you. He wonders if one day it will take, and you’ll be swollen with his baby. It’s an idea he only allows himself to entertain when he’s this blissed out – the implications would make guilt churn his stomach in any other situation. For now he lets you sleep, and himself imagine you pregnant with your Daddy’s baby, though, eyes glued to the prairie, hand stroking your back.

[luveline]

Hey lovely, How about Hotch and wife!reader having their first family outing with new baby, a walk in the park or grocery shopping something like that you can pick.

Hope your having a good weekend lovely Xx <3 🌼

ty for your request ily <3 —you and Hotch juggle your small family for the first time. fem, 1.2k

“Please hold my hand?” 

Having a baby has activated some intrafamily jealousy, but you don’t mind. You’re cooing at Noah adoringly when Jack interrupts, thrusting his hand in the air, the very beginning of a tantrum lining his eyes and his thin eyebrows pinched like a threat. 

“Baby, don’t you wanna come and sit up here with Noah?” you ask. There’s not much room next to the carrier, but Jack's slight. 

He shakes his head, hand poking your tummy. Grocery shopping with Jack has always been hard, he wants to look at everything, wants to take the list, and doesn’t ever wanna sit in the cart, but it’s proving harder today. 

“Aaron, you have to push the cart.” 

He’s been begging you to let him for the last half hour. “It’s gonna tire me out,” he says, nudging you aside by the hip, “but I think I can handle it for you. You did call me by my first name for once. We reward good behaviour in this family.” 

You roll your eyes and take Jack’s little hand. Calling him Aaron now you’ve had a baby together should feel natural, but it doesn’t. It feels more like a loving nickname than his actual name —over two years of calling him Hotch is hard to ignore. 

Jack gives you a loving look that makes the fuss worth it. “This is fun,” he says. 

“This is awesome.” 

You and Jack got used to doing grocery shopping by yourselves while you were on your maternity leave without his dad. With Hotch now on his own paternity leave to accompany you, it is admittedly easier, and much more fun. You and Jack swing your hands together as Hotch steers the cart and your baby into the cereal aisle, which’ll take hours to get through, no doubt, but it doesn’t matter. What else is there to do? 

You make it Hotch’s job to say no to the boxes that are mostly sugar, and, unfortunately for Jack, get distracted by Noah in his baby carrier where it’s locked into the cart. His eyes reluctant to open, tired, dark lashes threaded together at their corners, his tiny mouth. “Aw, look at you, handsome, you’re nearly smiling. You look just like your daddy, he never wants to smile either,” you say, tapping his nose. 

Your saccharine tone prompts distress. “Y/N,” Jack whines, “you need to help me choose the cereal.” He yanks at your hand. 

“Jack, don’t start, bud.” 

“Dad,” Jack pouts. 

“No, it’s okay. We’re supposed to be sharing everybody now, so Jack gets to share me too. I’ll help you pick some cereal. I don’t mind,” you say. 

You sort of do mind, just a bit. This is Noah’s first time out in the world that wasn’t sitting peacefully in the backyard, and you don’t want him to be scared. Maybe baby’s can’t be scared, you don’t know. It’s nicer to feel close to him in these big moments. But it’s Jack’s first time having a baby brother at the store, too, so you’ll have to make it work. 

“You don’t have to,” Hotch says. 

“It’s fine, it’s okay.” You bend down to see the cereal selection. “They have your favourite, Cinnamon Toast Crunch. And your second, Fruity Pebbles. It’s up to you, it’s your treat.” 

Jack gasps and hits a box of Fruity Pebbles, “Barney’s on the box now!” he says, pointing at the blonde character behind the cereal bowl. 

You give a soft laugh quickly lost as Jack’s force topples the box. It hits the floor with a light crunch. “Oh, whoops. Let’s pick this up,” you say, popping down into a crouch without thinking. 

“Honey–” Hotch says, which would surely be followed by a Should you be doing that? if you weren’t already flopping onto one knee in pain. 

Bad idea. Terrible idea. Having a baby tears a mixture of tissue and muscle, and while the fiery pain of labour has since become a bad memory, a spike of trauma erupts between your legs. “Ow,” you yelp, eyes welling with unbidden tears. 

“Y/N!” Jack and Hotch say simultaneously. 

“Are you alright?” Hotch asks, bending at the waist to grab you, never cruel but clearly perturbed as his hands grasp your shoulders. They slip down under your arms. “Come on, can you stand up?”

You blink away tears and force yourself to stand with his help. He’s quick to pull you close, one hand on your wrist, head ducked to see your face. “Are you okay? What happened?” 

You let out a queasy breath. “Something’s not done fixing itself,” you joke weakly. 

“Are you alright?” he asks again, lower. 

“I’m fine.” You’d love to sit down. The pain is a thrum like your heartbeat now, hurting but half as intense. “I’m okay. Really, it just shocked me.” 

He slips his arm around your neck to encourage you in for a temple kiss. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You wiggle out of Hotch’s hold. Jack stands with a large pout near the fallen box of cereal, his hands twisting together over his tummy. “It’s okay,” you say. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, panicked tears slipping down his cheeks. “You hurt getting it and it was mine, I’m sorry.” His voice squeezes out of him in guilty pangs. 

“It’s okay!” you repeat, leaning over with a wince to offer your arms, “It’s really okay, it’s not your fault. Don’t be upset, baby, I’m fine.” 

You hoist Jack into your arms as he begins crying in earnest. His crying startles Noah, who starts to whimper, and then sob despite Hotch’s gentle shushing. You look at one another in mild defeat, your hand cupping the back of Jack’s head as he clings to you for reassurance. 

Noah’s sobbing is like a ringing bell. Jack says he’s sorry into your neck, and it’s such a desperate scene you let a laugh slip out. “Aw, baby,” you say, smiling as you press your nose to his cheek, “it’s really okay. It wasn’t your fault at all, it was just ‘cos I’m out of practice. I’m just tired.” 

“You fell.” 

Noah gurgles behind you. “I know,” Hotch says quietly. “I know. You’re okay, bud. Jack’s okay. Mom’s okay. Shh, shh.” 

It’s obviously not how you’d want your shopping trip to go, but Jack’s crying eventually slows, sapping all of his energy, and so he finally agrees to sit in the cart. The only problem is that he doesn’t fit there as well as you’d thought he would. Hotch ends up carrying him the entire time you’re in the store, and Noah doesn’t ever settle. You’re like zombies when you get back to the car, a headache stark between your ears and evident in his pinched brow. 

“Let’s try again in a few weeks,” Hotch suggests. “I can go by myself. Or we can make somebody else.”  

You wish you had the energy to kiss his brow, giving a defeated nod as you slouch down into your seat, grateful at least for his hand on your knee. “Okay.” 

[albondiguilla007]

Pregnant Draco Fics

My guilty pleasure, ngl. Tell me what other ships/tropes you’d like to see.

✨ The Guest / 59k / In consequence of an accidental spell, Harry and Draco's five-year-old daughter is sent ten years into the past, where she meets her teenaged parents. Awkwardness ensues.

Draco’s inner monologue is hilarious, I had so much fun reading his pov. Plus, Molly is adorable.

✨ Essence / 87k / In his sixth year, Draco reaches for the only shard of sanity he can find, and puts his desperate faith into magic, the thing that has always set him apart as a pureblood wizard. The magic he unleashes though, is old, powerful, and maybe even more desperate than Draco himself, to leave an essence of life behind.

The little bump isn't what he needs to carry out his mission, but it might be the thing that saves him.

The pregnancy part is a bit confusing ngl, but later it really pays off. I enjoyed the domesticity of this fic immensely, even if Harry is a bit of an asshole at times. (He gets over it.)

✨ Can’t Fight the Moonlight / 16k / "How is it possible that neither of you thought to pay attention to the moon cycle?"

"It was cloudy," Harry said. "And we were drunk. We were very, very drunk."

"This just gets better," Hermione said.

"How could you have been so stupid?"

"In my defence," Harry said, "I had no idea that I should have been paying attention to the moon cycle. I'm not going to lie, I didn't even know men could get pregnant. It's been like, one long life lesson all round."

Or: the one where Harry accidentally gets Draco pregnant, both of them fail to talk about their feelings, and in the end, there's a baby.

✨ Expectant / 62k / After he accidentally gets Malfoy pregnant on a drunken fuck at a club, Harry doesn't anticipate that it'd be just as easy to fall in love with him.

✨ In Our Blood / 37k / Draco is an accomplished pure-blood curse breaker, and Harry is tasked with accompanying him on his latest job-cleaning up the Van Boer mansion, which has been under a devastating fertility curse for seven generations.

✨ What If When He Sees Me (I Like Him And He Knows It?) / 23k / In the post-war haze, Draco and Harry spent a drunken night together. Two months later, Draco learned that he was pregnant. Harry, though, doesn't remember their night together. And so, Draco decided to keep quiet.

He didn't expect to room with Harry at Hogwarts or to grow close to him, but fate had always had a cruel sense of humour when it came to them, hadn't it?

✨ The Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Fortune / 19k / If Astoria refuses to carry their child, Draco will-which is how he finds himself alone, pregnant, and a patient of Healer Potter's.

✨ The Man Who Forgot / 250k / After ten years of marriage, Harry forgets. The more things change, the more Draco Malfoy is still up to something.

You’re gonna SOB with this fic, but it will be worth it, I promise.

✨ A Star Danced / 65k / Draco Malfoy has the world as his feet.

He's twenty-three, first pick Seeker for Puddlemere United, has brilliant friends and a life he adores.

The very last thing Draco wants is an unplanned pregnancy, especially one where the other father just so happens to be Harry Potter.

Life, however, has other plans for him.

✨ If Wishes Were Children / 14k / Harry Potter has tried to move on with his life after Draco Malfoy walked away from him months before with little or no explanation, but it's been hard. Then, on a joyous day at the Burrow, Narcissa

Malfoy makes an unexpected appearance...

✨ Remember When I Loved You / 112k / When Draco Malfoy returns to Hogwarts for eighth year pregnant, vile rumours start spreading like wildfire. The Daily Prophet is full of wild speculations and outrageous assertions. Professor McGonagall seems to know something, and Malfoy's firm refusal to reveal the other father simply adds more fuel to the flames.

Harry Potter is desperately curious about the identity of the father of Malfoy's child. He feels utterly dumbfounded when an ancient paternal bond activates in the Great Hall, proclaiming him as the father. And what's worse, Draco Malfoy looks just as shocked as he feels.

✨ No One Ever Told Me / 25k / Harry marries Draco to get him out of Azkaban.

Things get weird. And confusing. And then weird some more.

✨ Learn to Fly / 25k / January 2004: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are two of the finest Seekers in England, deadly rivals and secret lovers.

As far as Draco is concerned, that's how it'll stay forever. He is betrothed to beautiful heiress Astoria Greengrass, and they are due to have a big summer wedding.

Everything changes during a hotly fought Arrows versus Wimbourne game when Draco falls from his broom. To his huge shock, when Draco awakes in St Mungo's, he discovers he is pregnant.

What will Draco do, now everything in his tidily compartmentalised life has to change?

✨ Hexed! / 34k / Harry uses the wrong hex, and Draco suffers the consequences.

✨ Luckiest Baby In The World / / "You're staring," Malfoy says.

"I'm not." Harry is. He just - he can't see it.

"You can't see it yet, Potter." Malfoy sounds miffed.

"I'm not trying to," Harry lies, finally tearing his eyes away; he looks out the window in a desperate attempt to get a single thought into his head that isn't what the fuck.

"Look," Malfoy says. "It's not like I'm telling you that you have to be a part of its life. I only-"

"How do you know it's mine?" The question is out of his mouth before

Harry can think better of it, and he immediately regrets it because of the way Malfoy's face shutters, turns cold.

✨ Once and Never Again / 40k / One morning after with his sworn enemy should be enough to warn Draco that he's going down a dangerous path.

But does he learn? Of course not. Month after month, he finds himself returning to Potter's embrace. What is wrong with him?

[dadsbongos]

The tuplar crew with a s/o that is good with kids

( Even can tame the bratty ones)

this is so funny to me because only one of them in my mind even wants kids anymore lol

curly

the type of man that wants to be good with kids, but they smell his desperation and just stomp all over him. so when he sees you so easily charm or soothe them, he gets kind of jelly but pretends he isn't. secretly tries picking up certain speech patterns or tricks from you as if you won't notice. if you corner him about it he'd fold immediately and ask you to show him your ways.

overall: 8/10. if you also want kids, he's planning when to start that up ASAP!

anya

i think she likes kids, but never really saw herself as a mother or felt that maternal instinct. she just thinks they're funny and likes babysitting which has also made her pretty decent with ankle biters! maybe seeing you with a temperamental niece or nephew would give her some daydream material about raising kids together. reassured you would be nurturing and loving while she was off working as a nurse.

overall: 10/10. you make one badass team, all the baby cousins and nieces and nephews are begging to play with you two at gatherings!

swansea

has already had his kids. does not care for any child that isn't his. does not feel paternal or affectionate or inspired if he sees you with children. sure, he's glad you're not some cruel monster that berates kids but that's about as far as it goes. as long as you get along with his children, that's all he really cares about. thankfully even as they're older, his kiddos love you.

overall: 5/10. if you were a bully to kids he'd cut it off, but it's not that serious to him.

daisuke

flip-flops massively about whether or not he wants children, ultimately pushing off the question entirely and chalking it up to your young ages. however! he's not immune to bouts of baby fever watching you babysit. how chunky monkey infants coo for your attention and toddlers give you flowers and shyly ask if you'll build blocks with them. even older kids musing how 'cool' you are and how they wanna be like you when they grow up. he loves it, eats it up.

overall: 7/10. not sure what he wants to do with this information, but enjoys watching the show.

jimmy

this fucker. does not give a fuck. he does not like kids very much and does not want one. if he knocks you up it's a total fucking accident and his gut reaction is probably telling you to get rid of 'it'. but if he's at the point where you two are regularly shagging and going to family parties where you being good with kids is something he actively witnesses then you two are locked in (i.e he's not going anywhere if you keep the baby, just disgruntled). deep down, though, if you two wind up expecting a baby then he is actually very fucking grateful you know what you're doing because he Does Not.

overall: 3/10. lets you do whatever, does not engage with kids even if you're supposed to be babysitting Together.

[fujoshirat]

I am absolutely INLOVE with how you write Shouto! It suits him so well that he has a big family 😭🤧

There is something I am curious about. How do you think would he be as a new dad? Especially when he found out he was having twins for the first time.. could you write a fic/scenario about this? and would he gain more confidence with his dad skills as time goes by? Thanks for reading this req 😇🫶

Aww! I’m so glad that you enjoy my writing and headcanons!! Tysm as well for asking, if you couldn’t tell, I LOVE writing about domestic Shouto </3

Also sorry that I couldn't respond immediately! I wanted to make sure that I answered all that you asked in the request ><

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“I’m pregnant.”

The moment you uttered those two words, Shouto’s jaw dropped. It closed a few seconds later, then opened, then closed. If not for the tense, life-changing situation, you would have laughed.

But this was not a joke.

After almost 5 minutes without a response from your husband, you sigh and turn around, ready to retreat to bed to cry. However, as you turn around, a strong arm grabs your waist and pulls you to him. The young hero buries his face in your lower back, breath shaky.

“Shou?” Your voice came out quieter than you wanted, but you were nervous too. Before you could continue, he began to speak.

“Y-You’re pregnant?”

Swallowing hard, you nod and turn to face him. Your hands gingerly cup his face, feeling the smoothness of his cheeks. “Yes, Shou,” you say breathily. “I’m pregnant.”

And with that affirmation, Shouto nodded wordlessly, stood up, and hugged you. Through the silence, you could feel your shoulder getting damp, and that was all you needed to feel to know how he felt.

I’m scared, but I’m here for you and our child.

A very Shouto Himura Todoroki response, perhaps too nonchalant or emotionless for other women, but this was your man, your husband, your love.

The second time Shouto had a very Shouto response was a week later. Laying on the flimsy parchment paper of the private room of the clinic, you anxiously squeezed your husband’s hand. The doctor was so gentle and sweet, a smile on her face as she did the ultrasound.

“Ah, there we go! Now, as you can see, Todoroki-san, there is a little head right here and-oh! I see another one~!” The young doctor turns to Shouto and smiles. “Congratulations, Todoroki-san, your wife is having twins!”

Right as those words tumbled out of the doctor’s mouth, your husband’s eyes widened and his fingers almost slipped through your grasp. You gasped, clutching his hand, earning a worried look from the doctor. “T-Todoroki-san!?!”

Ah yes, your husband, the one that will NOT be giving birth, almost fainted after hearing the fact that you were carrying twins—no, his twins.

Twins? Twins!?! He hasn’t even had experience with one kid yet, and now she’s telling him that there's two?!?

Another very Shouto Himura Todoroki response, a little worrying but hey, your man is okay and here to support you, no matter what.

It has been almost 4 weeks since you left the hospital, and Shouto feels like this is the hardest exam yet.

Your husband being on paternity leave is a huge help, but sometimes it feels like even your husband needs babysitting.

Right now is one such moment.

It was peacful a few minutes ago, you swore. You put the twins down on his lap before going to the bathroom, so why was there suddenly a ringing, crying noise from downstairs? You groan internally, exhausted and clearly needing an extra 12 hours of sleep, and you descend down the stairs. “Shouto? Is everything alright?” Following the sound of the wailing, you enter the living room and see him awkwardly trying to soothe the crying infants.

“What happened?!” You have to half-shout just to make him hear you.

“I-I don’t know, angel! I tried feeding Aki the bottle and-!” Oh bless this man’s kind heart, but he did not know ANYTHING about carrying for babies. Sighing, you take both Aki and Haru in your arms and shush them by putting their pacifiers back in their mouths. Like magic, their harmonious crying stopped, replaced by the sound of soft sucking. You chuckle at the twins before looking up at your husband, a shy, disappointed look on his face.

“Sit down, Shouto.”

He nods and sits down, watching you sit down next to him. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, love—I don’t even know what I’m doing!” You sigh and smile softly.

“Hey, it’s alright. We’re new to this and we’re still figuring this out.”

“I know… but I feel like I’m doing everything wrong. You’re so good at this, and I’m not.”

You frown at his words and reach out to hold his hand.

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re doing amazing and the damn-best job ever for a first-time father! And I’m flattered that you think I’m so good at this, but even I mess up too!” The way that your husband sulks is too cute, and a soft laugh escapes your lips.

“As we continue navigating parenthood, we’ll get even better, okay? But don’t beat yourself up about this baby. You’re doing your best, and that is all I can ask for.”

Shouto nods slowly, still unsure about everything, but he understands where you are coming from. He can’t be perfect the first time, but he’ll continue doing his damn best for his family.

And pro hero Shouto Todoroki never does a half-assed job.

Parenthood and the 9 months of your pregnancies are a rollercoaster, but it is Shouto’s favorite job.

He’s definitely gotten more comfortable with the twins and definitely knows better about babies. There are so many ups and downs to being a pro-hero parent, but he’s ready to accept every day with an open heart. He still uses what he learned at U.A. and his hero skills: spidey-senses activating when he sees Yueru bravely climb out of her crib and almost landing on the rug if it weren’t for his reflexes, knowing how much baby formula to make per bottle when you’re taking a nap and the twins are hungry, patiently teaching Haru how to do his hiragana characters when all he wants to do is color the animals on the edges of the worksheet.

One could say that your husband is a professional father already, and you couldn’t agree more. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

urgh I'm dying from cuteness overload (๑ > ᴗ < ๑) I hope this answered your request, anon! TYSM once again for your love and support ❤︎❤︎