#mistake i would do it. and she would do that for me as well

[sweetnans]

Stuck in the moment || Bakugo, K. (pt.3)

Pairing: fuckboy Bakugo/hopelessly romantic fem. reader

Trope: Enemies/friends to lovers.

summary: You made a mistake, a huge mistake. You fucked the most cocky, annoying, bastard, fuckboy you knew. Bakugo Katsuki. And that fact was against all your beliefs. Now, after the rumor (truth) spread like a pandemic virus in college you'll have to live with the stormy consequences of your acts and whatever trash was brought with it.

a/c: Hey, it's me again. Here we are in a new series I plan to continue. I really hope you enjoy it. I put my favorite man in action (bakugo) being a selfish bastard that you would love eventually and I couldn't help to put another "trope" I'm a sucker for (guardian/father figure Aizawa) I'm so sorry if that bothers you. Once again, I'm sorry if I misspelled something, English is not my first language. (Not proofread yet)

Pt.1 Pt.2 ♡

m.list

As the week passed, everything seemed quiet about the gossip you starred. Everyone knew and you knew that your act was in everyone's tongue. People's audacity sometimes surprised you, some girls came to you in the middle of lunch to ask you about it and even when you mastered faking dementia they were sarcastic about it saying to you "Yeah right" like you were lying, well, you were but, they had the guts to doubt you in front of your face.

By Thursday it was a forgotten fact. Some junior kid went straight to one of the teachers changing his suit in the changing room and, that was the bomb that dethroned you.

You were finally relieved and breathing easy through the day. The stares weren't aiming at you and Bakugo wasn't in your sight even. It was like he was banished from existence right after you left him hanging in the cafeteria.

You couldn't be more glad.

Friday, almost in the middle of the day, you made your way to the common bathrooms, and to your luck, there wasn't anyone there. You didn't have to make a line to shower or to brush your teeth, it was like all the girls from your building were conspiring about missing class. You couldn't blame them, If it wasn't for Aizawa's class, you would be skipping class too. You surely didn't realize that the fact that the bathroom was empty was only because it was almost noon.

Jirou wasn't in your training class, the group was large enough to put all of you in one class so they made sections with a limited amount of students per class to use the facilities without any capacity problem.

Luckily, Denki was with you.

Once you got into the class, you were almost struck by the invisible line dividing two sections of the class. There were people you knew who weren't in your class sitting on the left of the room while all your classmates were on the right. It felt weird, seeing Denki and Sero sitting so quietly, the absence of the obnoxious noise before Aizawa came and everyone shut up. You were about to make a joke about it when a big hand gripped your shoulder.

"You're on the right," Vlad said guiding yourself towards an empty seat, in between Sero and Denki who were sitting behind you, and Kendo who was sitting in front.

You were dumbfounded. Where was Aizawa? Why was he mixing classes?

Kendo was in the empty seat in front of you. Why were you sitting alone? You were eager to change seats and sit beside Kendo but Vlad looked like he had everything planned, including the scheme of the class.

"What's going on?" you asked your friends behind you and they only shook their heads with the same look at you.

"We were expecting you'd know" Sero shrugged with a worried look on his face.

You bit the inside of your cheek and grabbed your phone to text Aizawa. Was he okay? Was he hurt? He had never missed a class.

"Kendo, do you know what's happening?" You tapped the shoulder of the girl, and she leaned slightly over your seat.

"Aizawa called a day off at the last minute so now Vlad is here taking sensei's class but mixing it up with his own class" she whispered to your side.

"Why is he dividing us?" Denki asked joining the conversation.

"I think he is putting his class on the left side and-

Kendo interrupted herself when Vlad positioned Iida, one of the students of Aizawa's class on the left side.

"Okay, nevermind"

Shota: I'll be out of town for the weekend. See you on Sunday.

Always so talkative.

Shota: Feed the cat while I'm gone. Eri is with me.

Thank god he elaborated a bit.

You were clutching your phone in your hand, looking and trying to decipher why Vlad was putting you and your classmates on different sides of the room.

You: Vlad has this entire map of the class, and he is putting us strategically dividing us into sides. Do you know something about this?

You tapped the send button and waited patiently while the three dots appeared on the screen. He was typing.

"Bakugo, over there. Right there in the empty seat, " Vlad said out loud, making all the students turn their heads to your figure.

Why? Exactly, you guessed. The only empty seat was by your side.

Bakugo glanced at you like you were a minuscule bug in the middle of his way, ready to step on it. He gruffed and walked lazily to the seat where he dropped his gigantic backpack.

He didn't even say hello or something sarcastic like you expected. He was almost as annoyed as you with the change of plans.

Shota; No idea. The cat eats only two cups of food per day, one in the morning and the other by dawn.

That was so dad behavior.

You could hear how Denki was moving on his seat uncomfortably, probably waiting for you two to start bickering like the other day, but you were in zen mode, looking forward to knowing what was the maniac idea that Vlad had on his mind.

"I separated the group in two, we have body combat quirks here on the left and combat from afar here on the right. In pairs, you're going to improve your quirks against people with similar quirks. This mode of training will open your mind because it is one thing to know how to control your own quirk, but it's a different thing to control a similar type of quirk when it's against yourself. Understood? See you in the field"

Lord have mercy.

"Your pair is the one that's sitting by your side. I'll be rotating people from the same side when I see you've excelled"

The last announcement before everyone took their shit and started their way to the battleground had you stuck like glue on your seat. Your streak of not seeing Bakugo all week ended up gracefully having you to prove yourself against him. You could almost feel the burns and the bruises you would have on your skin after trying and failing to dodge him. There was not enough amount of training that would prevent you from ending up on recovery girl.

The class went by exactly how you expected. He was tearing you up into pieces. Every chance he had to blow you up, he used it wisely. From time to time, you had your chances too of using your quirk as fuel, making his own explosion turn against him, popping him out like a firecracker.

"What the fuck was that?" He was fuming, figuratively and literally.

You had the opportunity to bathe him in your dust while he was so busy being cocky with his quirk that he didn't realize the little sprinkles on his suit until it was too late.

"What? This is training class, right? Aren't we supposed to be combating?" You downplayed your move, but he wasn't taking it. "Oh, is it too much for you?

Of course, you couldn't keep your mouth shut.

He stomped big steps with his ginormous legs until he was in front of your small figure. It was amusing seeing the difference between both of your heights. He was at least one and a half head taller than you, and his broad shoulders and back were at least three times your body. You felt petite and scared when his shadow engulfed your own.

"Watch it, princess. If you play with fire, you might get burnt, " he said with his jaw tight, his muscles showing the fine line that demarcated his face.

"Fire? Your quirk is about explosions. I wouldn't grab a fucking ticking bomb even if they paid me" you smart-talked back glaring at him like he wasn't about to throw you out the atmosphere.

"Hey, knock it off," the red-haired friend of Bakugo yelled from the other side.

You looked at him, but he wasn't aiming his accusing eyes at you. He was looking at his friend, who had both hands clacking with tiny explosions at the side of his body. A subtle threat for you.

"Times up! Change partners!" Vlad blew a whistle in the exact moment to stop the chaos.

Fortunately, you ended up with Denki, who gave you enough time to crack your back and rub some of the bruises that Bakugo left on your body. Great, It took you three days to erase the hickeys and now you had an excessive amount of purple bruises to constantly remind you that he had another chance to mark your skin.

After the class that took a couple of hours away from your life, you carried your ass to take a hot shower. Since the class ended a little later than usual, the sun was actually setting when you walked out of the changing rooms.

You checked your phone before deciding on what to do. You didn't have many choices, to be honest, maybe lay down for the night and watch a sappy romantic comedy, the one you would die to live.

Jirou: I know you said no more parties, but they are throwing a big one that we can't miss just a few blocks away, Denki can get us in. Pretty pretty, please.

Jirou: Fuck it, I don't care what you say we are going anyway.

Your fate was already set.

Shota: Don't forget the cat.

And you had to feed the cat.

The walk to the teacher's building wasn't odd to you. Some students found it like a forbidden path to walk on, but it seemed very familiar to you. Many times, sometimes many times a day, you walk through it, fetching something for Aizawa, like his bento that he constantly forgets, or taking Eri for a shopping spree or a quick walk to the park and of course your family reunion on Sunday. It wasn't weird for you to be there and It wasn't weird for the other teachers seeing you there.

You said quick "hello's" to the janitor and went straight to accomplish your mission.

Aizawa's cat was a cranky little bitch who only found comfort in Eri, who loved the cat, and Aizawa who rescued it. You weren't interested in gaining the cat's affection, but secretly, you were more than willing to take it as a challenge. You were going to make the cat love you.

After a few scratches and bites, you were on the floor feeding the cat and scratching her head in return. The cat purred under your touch, and your ego felt the boost, and because you needed to show off your new accomplishment, you sent a video of her to Aizawa.

Shota; Cute. There's band-aids in the bathroom cabinet. Those scratches look deep.

He was a sucker for his cat, and he spoiled her so much that the cat wasn't able to eat alone. You tried to stand up twice, but the cat started growling right away. After she was full, she jumped to the couch and snuggled up until she fell asleep. You couldn't believe the behavior of the cat and how Aizawa was okay with that.

After tidying up the place a little, rearranging Eri's clothes and cleaning up her room, you decided that you needed to go to your own room and get dressed up for the night.

You weren't going to drink.

You weren't going to make out with anyone.

And if Bakugo was there, you weren't going to be near him.

That was settled.

You opened the door to get on the hallway when a loud sound startled you.

"Jeez, watch out" the voice of the person you almost knocked with the door seemed very familiar. "What are you doing here?" Bakugo said glaring at you like he was seeing the most disgusting thing on earth.

"What are you doing here?" You attacked back, crossing your arms on top of your chest after closing the door behind you.

"You know this is sensei's apartment, right? He stated matter of factly.

"Yeah, I know." You rolled your eyes at him while he squinted his.

"So what are you doing here?" He was fast throwing questions and playing like he was a fucking cop. He quirked a brow, and you could swear you heard how he tapped his feet against the floor.

"Chill out, I'm just feeding the cat while he's gone." You did a quick glance towards the door and tried to dodge him and his stupid question. You weren't giving him your time again, not after you had burning marks and bruises all over your destroyed body because of him.

"Why you?" He followed you again and grabbed your arm firmly to make you stay put.

"Why me what?"

You were tired of him trying to talk to you like you were some sort of frenemies, you didn't even know him until a week ago. Yeah, you said things about his dick and the rumor spread like malaria, so what? You got over the fact that every student and teacher knew about your fling with him. He needed to get over it as well.

"Why did he ask you and not fucking Deku or Iida?" He asked.

Oh, he was analyzing the shit. Bakugo tried so hard to play subtle, but he needed to know everything that got under his nose and over his head.

"Uhm, I don't know, let me think... because he is my guardian, perhaps?" You dripped sarcasm all over the floor, but he looked actually impressed.

"No shit, Aizawa sensei is your fucking guardian?"

Fortunately, his jaw was attached to his face.

"Yeah, like you didn't know." You rolled your eyes and shook off his hand that were still attached to your arm.

"I fucking didn't! For fuck sake I fucked sensei's daughter" he exclaimed panicking. Well, Bakugo, tall figure, broad shoulders, muscled back, the man himself, didn't panicked like the other mortals, he panicked like a god, forget the wrinkles around his face, forget eyes wide open, he panicked like the meme of spongebob where a lot of spongebobs are running from fire, that happened in his mind while his face remained stoic.

"I'm not his daughter, and please get over it." You pressed your palm in your face and prayed to dissappear.

"But he adopted you, right?" You nodded. "Then he's legally your pops"

He had a point, and even when you and Aizawa implicitly established that you weren't going to call him dad, legally and in the eyes of the law, he was your dad.

"Your thick skull just can't get it, right?" You pinched the bridge of your nose and remembered where you were standing. Outside all the teachers' doors. "Then yeah, something like that"

"Shit." He looked like he was shitting himself from the news. You couldn't believe that something like that slipped through his fingers. He couldn't believe it either. He was friends with Mina for fuck sake, the real gossiper of the entire place.

"You haven't answered my question. What are you-" you tried again.

He was standing right in front of Aizawa's door on a Friday afternoon. Students knew the unspoken codes, no one would dare to look for a teacher in his own apartment, that's what offices are for.

"How about none of your fucking business, princess" he scoffed like he owned the world.

That's it. Your civilized conversation reached its final point.

"You are a pain in the ass." You showed him your middle finger, and the sleeve of your sweater dropped low in your arm, letting the cool breeze kiss the marks the cat left on you.

"What are those scratches?" He grabbed your arm again, but this time carefully. The pads of his fingers carresing the untended wound. "Was it me? They seem hurtful"

The cocky bastard knew damn well how to fucking pretend. He actually looked concerned, and the fact that he asked you if it was his fault made you spiral in your own turnmoil.

"Aizawa's cat," you murmured, trying to focus on anything but his touch. Vietnam flasbacks of that night came like a hurricane to your brain.

"Yeah, of course he has a cat," he grunted like it was obvious. That made you laugh a little, and he was fast enough to look at yourself with a giant question mark all over his face.

"Why are you so unimpressed by the fact that he has a cat, but you seemed shocked as hell when I told you he's my guardian? Is it okay for him to have a cat but not a kid?

The subtle way of your voice coming to his system made him realize that he was holding you close and that he felt okay with that, so he completely pivoted it physically and verbally.

"First of all gross, I didn't fuck any kid, you are grown ass woman" he let go of your arm and pushed his hands inside of the pockets of his jogger.

A fucking gray jogger you wouldn't have realized he was wearing if he didn't made that movement.

"Can you not-" You looked away for two reasons. One, the embarrassment again, and two, your hormones betraying you again.

He seemed like he had a fixation with your fling mentioning it like he was a broken record.

"Second of all, he barely looks like he can take care of himself, let alone a...you," he said. "Besides, I bet that cat behaves better than you"

"You're so annoying"

"I never wondered about you before, I thought that your existence was a product of spontaneous generation," he shrugged, and before you could leave, he asked. "Are you coming today?"

The party. The question caught you off guard, like you knew there was a party thanks to Jirou, but you never thought that he would address the fact and much less to you.

"What?" Faking dementia your best friend. There was one thing going and expected to see him there and going and actually seeing him there. And now that you knew that he would, in fact, be there, you weren't so eager to show up. You could fake a cold, just as you fake dementia sometimes.

"I said coming, not cumming"

You sprinted to put your hand on his mouth. The teachers could be within the reach of an arm listening to your very casual conversation with him, and he chose to slip away those kinds of things like it was nothing.

"Shut the fuck up," you murmured and pushed him until you were outside the building. You completely ignored the janitor's look. "I heard you very well"

"So, are you or not?" The damn idiot was smiling under your hand but when you took it off he had the same fine line as lips as always.

"I don't know, why do you care" you looked beside him, watching all the students go home or go to parties made you realize that you were late to meet Jirou.

"I don't" he shook his head and looked behind his back following your stare.

Bakugo didn't know what was happening in your head, the gears running and turning to make yourself disappear and reappear in your room to change your clothes real quick with a pissed Jirou talking your ear off about messing with people's time. He instead fixed your staring line with the first person that came to his sight, following your eyes and stopping in the one and only Todoroki.

He felt something hot bubbling inside his body like it was boiling in the pit of his stomach. Without noticing, his brows dropped low in a confused state, and he stared back at you. You seemed like you couldn't take your eyes off of him, and Todoroki was, in fact, staring back.

Were you two friends? He'd never seen you with him before. Was this new? Why was it bothering him anyway?

You blushed and looked at him again, shaking your head and leaving him feeling emotions he had never had before.

Damn half n' half, always trying to take away what's his.

End note: Hey babes! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, next part is all about another party and we will see more interaction between these two shitheads.

A penny for your thoughts about this (not really but express yourself)

taglist: @kiridagremiln @aefillor @screechingfangirlaf @chuugarettes @gold24fish @dreamcastgirl99 @andyetshewrote @budibbly @candiiee @linkfromskywardsword @galaneiaeris @fantasynerd05 @big-denki-energy @3thr3al @marsbars09 @whatswrong7 @scaranthropy @cc1306 @junehasnotbeenfound @jeanbabygirl @pirana10 @sappho-the-kitten-tamer @ahbeautifulexistence @polarbvnny @th0tformikasa @surprisemodafakas @xxjesshuxx @katsuisbaby @azzo0 @atashiboba @azzo0 @berryvioo @hiimsaraandyou @bizzybkd @regrexx @justsinri @slut-4-gojo @bexxs @lemuhr @monkeycheeks-lvl26 @tsukikoxo @sikuthealien @mia-luvs @dondeh-zedonutqueen @the-queen-yn @stardream14 @pretty-sparkle-bomb @itzjustj-1000 @m-atcha-tea @liluvtojineteyam @shosuki @v3n7s @yoyolovesdaiki @jenna-sakura @femi12hhf @aejabba @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere

taglist continues on the comments.

[acid-ixx]

I hope you don’t mind but I need to ramble this to someone, neglected Wayne reader right? The fam would forget to bring them to social events and whatnot right? So there would be very few pictures, articles and interviews or even facts about them, meaning that reader Wayne is a rarity. Still following me? Reader Wayne with a small but devout fanbase.

I’m talking they are trading the latest pictures and sharing links to the rare interview with reader in it, following any social media they have that isn’t private, they are just fascinated by this micro celebrity that seems to always be forgotten. Okay but also imagine one of the heroes developing a para-social attachment to reader. My money is on Conner Kent, mainly bc he can project his own issues with his dads onto reader and he can Dolores ~Encanto~ reader with his super hearing and develop a even bigger parasocial obsession with them

I hope you enjoyed this ramble, I will leave you be now, see ya later alligator! 🐊

omg another one of my asks that actually predicted a major plot point... this ask ties well with the last part written here. i'm thinking about having the reader get a love interest/s but i have already written an outline but one thing is for sure—

you have more than just your family interested in taking you.

major spoilers below the cut. — an excerpt from chapter xx

(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.

you are a product of a one-night-stand.

but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.

your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.

you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.

it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.

the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.

after all, your freedom is your doom.

maybe this is out of the picture, but id' like to imagine you and connor having a therapy session where one comes out absolutely obsessed with the other, and it's not you.

connor's character for me is so, so good for an angst potential. it's like his personal struggles is a way for him to show you how absolutely you two are meant to be. and he may have met you through bumping into you (false) or maybe... he has seen you stalking through the shadows back when he visits the manor. using his superhearing, he can hear your voice from the kitchen begging alfred to relay a message to bruce, sounding so absolutely desperate. it's the way you tell alfred how you wished your father actually spends time with you, or how nobody seems to notice you— that he kind of just makes a silent promise that he will talk to you soon, he needs to know why this family seems so keen on ignoring and how hypocritical tim is for literally doing the same thing to you when he's aware of kon's past.

if he (or anyone else) should be a love interest (though he is a minor character in the series unless you guys want him to be a major one), i can already imagine the absolute hell you have to suffer not only from your family but from your own lover. just imagine the stockholm syndrome or the delusions you convince yourself with because you're finally loved by someone but that love restricts you from the very freedom you tried to build.

the batfamily would be so conflicted because why are you choosing some stranger over them...? then you slap them in the face with, "well, this "stranger" wants to kidnap me and lock me up, sure! but at least they actually looked at me for more than five seconds!" and you can watch how the color drains off their face, their conflict giving you the perfect opportunity to run away from both your ex-family and your soon-to-be-kidnapper-lover who thinks your comeback is a funny way for you to propose.

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act II, Scene I: The Suspicious Scheme)

The three times you sensed something strange when everyone paired you with Spencer, and the one time you understood why.

Part warning: Definitely inaccuracy in autopsy procedures and Spencer’s educational background, it’s hard writing a genius Words: 5.6k (not proofread, I’ll do it when I have the time so please excuse me if you see any mistakes) A/n: I tried to make this part shorter but I gave up. I hope you don’t mind reading more😌

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

I. The Forced Partner

There was usually a system when Hotch paired the team up, a method to his leadership that balanced skills and personalities to get the job done efficiently. But as Spencer and you were directed to the autopsy room together, you couldn’t help but wonder if Hotch was pushing his luck—or preferably yours.

It was weird. Two weeks had gone by since the last case where he had to witness you both sparring, and you would’ve thought he’d keep you apart. Yet here you were, together again, stepping into the cold, sterile room. 

The faint smell of antiseptic filled the air as you pulled on your gloves, the latex snapping against your wrists. A woman in blue scrubs, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, turned to greet you and Spencer. She extended a hand. 

“I’m Dr. Nina Patel, I’ll be overseeing the autopsy today. You must be from the BAU.”

You nodded, shaking her hand firmly. 

“Agent Y/N Y/L/N, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid,” you introduced, gesturing towards Spencer, who offered a brief nod and a tight lip smile in greeting. Dr. Patel returned the gesture and motioned for you both to approach the table. 

“Our Jane Doe was found early this morning in an alleyway downtown," she explained, pulling back the sheet to reveal a woman appearing in her late thirties. "There are no apparent injuries, and no ID was found with her.”

Spencer stepped closer. "Any indication of the time of death?" 

"Preliminary estimates put the time of death at approximately eight hours before she was found."

You watched as she started pointing to various parts of the body. 

"She was also found with her clothes in perfect condition. It’s possible she was placed there post-mortem."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "Could suggest transportation from another location.”

You moved to the head of the table, examining Jane Doe's hands and nails. "No defensive wounds," you added. "She didn't fight back, or more likely, wasn't conscious during her final moments."

Dr. Patel nodded as she considered your observations. “It’s plausible that a strong sedative was used, which would leave minimal to no struggle marks. We’re running some tests as we speak.”

Spencer chimed in quickly after that. “The Unsub might have used succinylcholine, or even benzodiazepines,” he suggested. Then, turning toward you with a condescending tone as if simplifying it for your benefit, he added, “They’d metabolize quickly and would require a toxicology screen to detect definitively.”

You rolled your eyes.

“That’s impressive, Dr. Reid,” Dr. Patel remarked, her eyes lingering on him a moment longer than seemed strictly professional. You narrowed your eyes at her. “Did you study pharmacology formally, or is this a passion of yours?”

“I actually did a bit of formal study during my Ph.D. programs.”

“Oh, really? What did you study?”

“Chemistry and Engineering. Pharmacology intersects quite a bit with those fields, especially when looking at biochemical reactions.”

Dr. Patel seemed genuinely impressed. “That’s quite a formidable educational background. No wonder you’re so thorough with your analyses.”

You could feel a knot tightening in your stomach. Her admiration was professional, sure, but the way her eyes softened when she looked at him, the way her voice dipped just so—it was a tone you recognized all too well.

She was flirting with him.

You watched them, your gaze sharp and assessing. Although it wasn’t like Spencer to notice her advances; he was smart, yes, but his brilliance often left him oblivious to the layers of personal interaction that didn’t involve textbooks or theories. And Dr. Patel, with her easy smile and obvious interest, seemed to have her focus on him rather than the body lying between you.

You cleared your throat, louder than necessary.

“Can we continue?” 

Dr. Patel seemed to catch your eye, her expression shifting back to professional as she nodded. “Of course.”

She resumed her explanation, detailing the various findings and pointing out subtle indicators on the body that might have otherwise gone unnoticed. Spencer listened intently, his gaze shifting between Dr. Patel and you, noticing the subtle tension in the room, but didn’t comment.

It wasn’t until you had all the information you needed—and after you caught one last flirtatious look from Dr. Patel directed at him—that Spencer finally spoke up.

“She seems nice,” he remarked as you both stepped outside the building, heading toward the parking lot.

You shrugged. “Sure, if you say so.”

Spencer glanced at you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Am I missing something?” 

You looked over at him, debating whether to explain, before you finally sighed. 

“It’s just... she seemed a bit more interested in you than the case,” you said, trying to keep your tone light but failing to hide your slight irritation.

And then he noticed it. The subtle tension in your voice, the way you avoided his gaze, the underlying frustration—it clicked. “Wait, are you... jealous?”

“No, I’m not!” You replied quickly, then softer, “I’m not.”

“You sound like it.”

You scoffed. “No, I sound like a friend trying to remind you that we have a case to focus on.”

“Oh, so now we’re friends?”

“I meant that in the broadest, most professional sense of the word.”

“Right,” Spencer replied sarcastically. “I didn’t realize jealousy was part of professional behavior.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you snapped. “Stop making it into something it’s not.”

“Sure.”

“Reid.”

“Y/L/N,” he shot back in the same flat tone.

Dear God, why was he so infuriating? How he had this ability, this perfectly annoying talent to get under your skin without seeming to try was beyond you. You both stared at each other for a while, until finally, you broke the silence with an exasperated sigh.

“Let’s just go,” you muttered, brushing past him.

You walked a few steps ahead, trying to shake off his words. It was absurd. The very idea was ridiculous when you were focused on the case, on solving the mystery—nothing more.

You were not jealous.

II. The Unavoidable Flight

“I’m telling you, she was definitely flirting with him,” you said, your voice a mix of disbelief and annoyance as you and Penelope made your way toward the plane. “It was so obvious, the way she kept looking at him, the tone of her voice. I mean, does professional decorum mean nothing anymore?”

“Why are you acting so surprised? Wonder Boy is actually quite the catch,” Penelope responded. “He’s not my type, but he clearly has admirers.”

Your eyes involuntarily drifted toward the man in question, who was walking a few paces behind, engaged in conversation with JJ. He was casually gripping the strap of his satchel bag, laughing at something JJ had just said. You narrowed your eyes.

“Well, I don’t understand what they see in him.”

“It might be that genius brain of his—totally irresistible to some.”

“It’s annoying, is what it is,” you grumbled, quickening your pace as the plane came into view.

Penelope responded with a sly grin. “You know what you sound like?”

“What?”

“Like someone who’s maybe a little jealous.”

You frowned, hating how she was the second person to conclude your irritation with something else. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on. You seem unusually focused on how others interact with him.”

“I’m focused on maintaining a professional work environment,” you defended, trying to keep your voice even as you approached the steps of the plane. “Not about… whatever you’re implying.”

“Fine. If Dr. Patel makes her move and actually calls him, what would you do?”

Your eyes widened. “What? Who did you hear that from? Did he tell you? When did she call him?”

“Hypothetically, oh my god,” Penelope laughed, stepping onto the plane as you followed, slightly flustered. “I’m just saying, hypothetically, if it happened, what would you do? How would you react?”

You paused at the entrance, processing her question. “I’d do nothing.”

“Nothing? Really?”

“Yes, I’d do nothing because I’m not jealous.”

“That’s what any jealous person would say.”

You narrowed your eyes at her as you walked past the entrance, and when you caught her making herself comfortable on the long couch by the front, you quickly made your way to the back of the plane.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“To find a spot where my supposed jealousy isn’t your inflight entertainment,” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I knew you were jealous!”

“Supposed jealousy!”

Her laughter trailed after you, ringing down the narrow aisle as you navigated through the plane, bypassing Rossi, who was typing away on his phone, and Hotch, who sat across from him with his eyes closed, leaning back against his seat. You walked further down the aisle until you spotted an empty spot at the very back of the plane, looking very isolated and inviting.

It was perfect.

“Garcia! That’s my usual spot,” Spencer’s unmistakable voice echoed through the plane as you made yourself comfortable in your chair.

From the corner of your eye, you could see him standing over Penelope, a hand gesturing toward the seat while his other hand clutched his bag.

“But it’s so comfortable,” Penelope responded, settling deeper into the plush seat. “Come on, Reid, I don’t travel as much as you do. Let me have it.”

Spencer paused, his initial protest fading as he took in Penelope’s exaggerated comfort. “Where would I sit?”

“You can sit…”

You quickly closed your eyes. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t–

“Over there! There’s an empty spot in front of Y/N.”

You were going to kill her.

You sank deeper into your chair, hoping to avoid any forced small talk or, worse, awkward silence with him. Maybe if you were lucky enough, he’d pick another chair—perhaps next to Hotch, or Rossi, or—

A cough interrupted your thoughts.

“I know you’re pretending to sleep.”

Reluctantly, you opened one eye, peeking at him.

"Mind if I sit here?"

For a moment, you considered ignoring him, but the look on his face told you he wasn’t going to let it go. You rolled your shoulders, giving up the pretense, and sat up straighter.

“Actually, yes, I do mind.”

He raised an eyebrow but lowered himself onto the seat anyway, clearly unfazed by your objection.

"Reid,” you warned him. “I’m serious.”

"I know you are.” His eyes briefly swept around the cabin as he settled into the seat across from you, placing his satchel bag on his lap. "But every other seat is taken. Unless you want me to stand in the aisle for the next few hours?"

You rolled your eyes, letting out a resigned sigh as you crossed your arms. "Fine, but I'm reserving the right to nap, and you're reserving the right to not disturb that nap."

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward in his seat. “Do you know that you snore when you sleep?”

You gasped. “I do not!”

“You do. You sound like a little chainsaw.”

You gaped at him. The idea of a rough, grating noise being associated with you was almost laughable, and yet here he was, completely serious. You were unsure whether to be amused or offended.

“A chainsaw? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Well, considering the average chainsaw operates at around 90 decibels, I'd say it's an appropriate comparison."

“Don’t make me throw you off the plane.”

He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “Just so you know, certain sleep positions can actually help reduce snoring. Maybe you should try—ouch!”

You nudged him with your foot, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make your point clear. He rubbed his leg and glanced up at you with a wry expression.

“Consider that your first and only warning,” you stated firmly before closing your eyes, signaling the end of the conversation.

“See, your position is all wrong, if you slightly elevate your—”

“Good night, Reid.”

There was suddenly a moment of silence, the kind that feels almost tangible, stretching out in the small space between you. Then, you heard it—a slight, barely audible chuckle.

You wondered if your mind was playing tricks on you, the sound so faint that it seemed it could easily be a figment of your imagination. But no, there it was again, a soft, amused sound that had you frowning even with your eyes closed.

“Good night, Y/N.”

Maybe you were already dreaming.

III. The Lock-in Incident

“Y/N,” JJ’s voice chimed from behind you while you were gathering a stack of folders on your desk. “Can you take these down to the filing room? Spencer’s already down there reorganizing some of the older case files.”

You eyed the thick folder in JJ’s hands. When there wasn’t an active case, the team often spent time organizing and maintaining the archives. As tedious as it was, it was a necessary task, and normally, you wouldn’t mind lending a hand.

But the sound of his name made you pause because working with him in a confined space seemed very much unappealing.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Aren’t you going there?” She asked, her gaze shifting to the folders in your hands.

Internally, you groaned. Yes, you were headed there, that had been the plan. But now that you knew Spencer was there, every step towards that cramped, paper-stuffed room felt like walking into a minefield.

“Maybe you should go down there instead.”

“I can’t,” she responded, already adding her folders to your pile. “I’ve got to finish my other reports before the end of the day.”

Your eyes glanced over to Derek’s desk across from you. “Morgan?”

He turned over a page in the file he was reading, not even looking up. “Sorry, Pretty Girl, I got my hands full with this case report.”

“Oh, come on.” You stormed over to him, desperation edging into your voice. “I’ll do you a favor—anything you want.”

Derek glanced up, finally giving you his attention, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Anything I want?”

“Within reason.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, but I really can’t. This report’s due in an hour.”

Frustrated, you glanced over towards Emily’s desk, hoping for a backup, but groaned when you saw it was empty.

You finally sighed, feeling the weight of your options—or lack thereof—settle on your shoulders. You gathered the heavy folders in your arms, the paper edges digging slightly into your skin. It was just a few hours, you reasoned; you could manage Spencer. He could be insufferable, but you had your own ways of being equally annoying.

With a deep breath, you headed toward the filing room, mentally preparing yourself. He was already busy sorting through a pile of disorganized paperwork when you got there, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“I have more work for you,” you announced in a sing-song voice.

Spencer looked up, his eyes scanning the sight of the hefty folders in your arms. “Nope. They’re yours, not mine.”

You paused, leaning on the table filled with sorted files. “Are you sure you want me to do this by myself? Because, you know, I might just rearrange what you’ve already organized here. It would be a shame if all your hard work got… scrambled.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he quickly warned. “Hand them over. I’ll do it myself.”

You moved closer and placed the folders next to his neatly arranged stacks, deliberately nudging them just enough to seem accidental.

“Really?” he said, a hint of exasperation in his tone as he carefully realigned the folders you had nudged. “You know, we could actually get this done much faster if you’re not acting like a child.”

“Oh, please. Like you’re the mature one.”

“At least I’m trying to get the job done, not make it harder.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so uptight about every little detail, it wouldn’t be so hard,” you shot back, grabbing another stack of files to sort.

“I’m not uptight. I’m precise. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.”

Spencer opened his mouth to retort, but before he could get the words out, the sudden sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the cramped room. Both of you turned around simultaneously.

“Did that just…?” He began, stepping towards the door and trying the handle. It didn’t budge. He jiggled it again, more forcefully this time. “Great, it’s locked.”

“What?” You walked over, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “Who the hell locked it?”

“I don’t think anyone did. These old doors… they stick. It’s probably just jammed,” Spencer explained, though his voice carried a hint of doubt.

Yeah, right, you thought, your skepticism growing. Despite his logical explanation, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a coincidence. The timing was just too perfect, and you had a sneaking suspicion that someone might have been behind this.

But then the reality of the situation sank in. Your immediate concern shifted to the fact that you were trapped here, with him, until someone realized you were missing. The prospect was both frustrating and daunting.

“Look, let’s just keep working,” he suggested. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can figure out how to get out of here.”

You nodded, though a part of you wanted to argue. “Fine. But if we’re still stuck here by the time we’re done, you’re explaining this to Hotch.”

“We’ll get out, don’t worry.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.” You picked up a folder from the pile, flipping it open to look over its contents. “How do I do this?”

“Sort them by case type first, then by date within each type.”

“So, this one would go under…?”

“Unsolved homicides,” Spencer replied, taking a quick peek at the document you held open. “And make sure it’s in chronological order with the others.”

You moved to the designated shelf, sliding the folder into its appropriate spot before returning to grab another. “Wait,” you opened the file, your eyes scanning the page. “I think this was my first case.”

You read through the document and nodded.

“Yes, look, it’s the one where the Unsub was targeting families with children,” you reminisced, your mind going back to the time when you were still new to the job. “That was such a hard case. Remember how I couldn’t stop crying? And how Hotch had to debrief me because I was still shaking even after we made the arrest?”

When you were met with silence, you looked up to see his back facing you, seeming too busy as he organized his files. You closed the document in your hands and walked back toward the shelf.

“Of course, you don’t remember,” you muttered under your breath. “Why would you even remember?”

A twinge of disappointment settled in your chest, even though you hated to admit it. It was stupid, really, to expect him to recall every little detail from the past, especially when it had to do with you. But just as you turned to grab another file, Spencer’s voice stopped you.

“October 19, 2011.”

You paused, turning slowly to face him, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

“The date you started working here,” Spencer said, still focused on his task. “You wore a black blouse and the brightest shade of red on your lips.”

You blinked, trying to understand what he was getting at.

“The case was in St. Louis,” Spencer continued, now looking up to meet your gaze directly. “Your first field assignment. You told Hotch you were ready, but the case really got to your head.”

You found yourself at a loss for words, realizing what he was trying to do.

“You cried when you came back from talking with the victim’s family. You cried when the second victim was found. You cried when we finally caught the Unsub.”

You continued to stare at him, not knowing how to process his words.

“You also cried when I sat beside you on the plane.”

He remembered.

The realization struck you hard, almost like a physical blow. A part of you had convinced yourself that he barely noticed you, that any memory involving you was erased from his mind. But here he was, recalling not just any memory, but your first week when you joined the team, right down to the color of your lips.

“You…” The frown on your face deepened. “You remembered.”

There was a pause as he looked at you, his eyes carefully assessing your reaction. “It’s hard not to."

You held his gaze. Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you were still on good terms. Would you smile at him now? Would you tell him that, yes, you also remembered how he allowed you to lean on his shoulder during that flight back home, despite the awkwardness of your first meeting when it seemed he’d rather keep his distance?

You shook your head, looking away from him. It was wishful thinking. Letting yourself dwell on what could have been would only lead to another heartbreak. You had learned to protect yourself, to keep your distance, because hoping for a return to those days would only make the present hurt more.

“Right,” you said, trying to keep your composure as you gripped the folder in your hand. “I forgot you have an eidetic memory.”

Spencer didn’t say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you, a quiet, lingering gaze that you felt more than saw. The room suddenly felt incredibly small, the walls seeming to close in around you as your fingers fumbled slightly with the papers, grabbing another file.

You needed to get out of here. You needed to regain control. The faster you finish your work, the sooner you can escape him.

IV. The Table For Two

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” You pressed, arms linked with JJ as you both walked down the sidewalk, your stride matching the quick tempo of your rising irritation. The accusation in your voice was clear, but JJ just offered a casual shrug, avoiding direct eye contact.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You expect me to believe it was an accident?” Your skepticism was palpable, and you watched as a small smirk played at the corner of her lips. “That the door coincidentally locked itself when we were both inside?”

“The doors are old,” she said, keeping her gaze forward, her steps even and unhurried. “You know how it is, sometimes if you even just shut them too hard, they jam. Could happen to anyone.”

Her tone was too nonchalant, too practiced, and you tugged on her arm, pulling her to a stop. “Right, and I suppose it was also just chance that the door closed by itself?”

JJ paused, finally facing you with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t do it.”

“Then somebody did.”

“Y/N,” she replied, her smile broadening in a way that only heightened your irritation. “Nobody did.”

You groaned, resuming your walk as you pulled her along. “You guys are so annoying.”

JJ laughed. “How did you get out of there anyway?”

You sighed, the memory of the escape bringing a frown to your face. The entire time you were locked in that room, you had done everything possible to avoid talking to him, focusing on shuffling through files and pretending to be absorbed in the work.

After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence and strained small talk, you both gave up trying to ignore the situation and started moving around the cramped space, phones held high, desperately trying to find a signal. When you finally managed to get a single bar, you quickly dialed Penelope, who answered with her usual upbeat tone, clearly amused by your predicament.

"We had to call Garcia to let us out,” you said, your tone dry. “She found the whole thing hilarious."

JJ's laughter grew as she imagined the scene. "She would have loved that. Probably made her day to rescue the two of you."

“She’s already teasing us about it.”

Her laughter slowly died down as she gave your arm a light tug. “Did anything happen while you two were in there?”

You hesitated, recalling the awkward silence, the shuffling of papers, and that brief, tensed exchange. “Not really,” you admitted. “We just tried to organize the files without screaming at each other.”

“But did you talk at all? I mean, really talk?”

“Jennifer,” you warned, the tone of your voice hinting that she was treading on uncomfortable territory. The thought of delving deeper into what had—or hadn’t—happened in that room was not something you were eager to talk about.

“I know, I know, it’s complicated,” she conceded. “Just thought it seemed like a good opportunity to maybe clear the air between you two.”

“Well, you thought wrong. There’s nothing to talk about.”

JJ looked at you skeptically, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see right through your defenses. She seemed on the verge of pushing further, but then her phone rang, interrupting the moment. She glanced at the screen and sighed, giving you an apologetic look. "Hold on, I need to take this. It's Will."

You nodded and watched as she stepped a few feet away to answer the call. You waited and tried to give her privacy, but it was hard when her words were clear as you listened to her talk, and the more she spoke, the more you narrowed your eyes at her.

“…right now… sure… no, it’s fine… I can be there in ten… of course, honey...”

You crossed your arms when JJ finally ended the call and turned back towards you.

"I need to head home,” she said, a bit too casually. “Will got called into work unexpectedly.”

Suspicion started to creep in as you processed her words. The timing was impeccable—a little too perfect. You both were supposed to meet up with Penelope and Derek for dinner, and it was almost guaranteed that Spencer would be there too, considering Derek had taken it upon himself to drag him along at any given chance under the pretense that ‘the kid needs to go out more’.

But the thought of JJ bailing on you on such short notice seemed out of pocket, even for her.

"Really, right now?" you asked, narrowing your eyes slightly. She shifted on her feet, her smile a bit forced. “Is everything okay?”

JJ nodded, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something that looked more like amusement than guilt. "Yeah, I just need to get home to the kids. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

The more she spoke, the more your suspicion grew. Her demeanor seemed too casual, almost rehearsed, as if she was trying to assure you while simultaneously eager to leave. It felt like she was in on some inside joke that you weren't aware of.

“Well, if you really have to go…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” JJ flashed a quick, almost relieved smile and gave you a hurried kiss on the cheek. “Have a good time tonight, and fill me in on all the details later.”

“Details? What details?” You called after her but she was already walking away. “JJ! Why do I have to fill you in the details?”

She simply waved a hand without turning back, leaving you standing there with a growing sense of unease. You slowly resumed your walk, taking out your phone to call Penelope but stopped in your tracks when you saw a message from her, sent five minutes ago.

Hey, Sweetie, so sorry I can’t make it to dinner tonight! Something urgent came up. Have fun without me :)

Your stomach dropped as you read the message. First JJ, and now Garcia? It was starting to feel like you were being abandoned, or worse, you were being set up. You glanced around, half expecting to see Derek lurking in the shadows with a mischievous grin, orchestrating this whole fiasco.

It wasn’t until you arrived at the restaurant and spotted Spencer alone at the entrance, trying to avoid any immediate contact with the other patrons, that you realized your suspicion was confirmed. The pieces clicked together almost too neatly, and the man seemed as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

His discomfort was evident as he adjusted his stance, gripping the strap of his bag, eyes darting to you as you approached him.

“Morgan’s late,” he announced as a greeting.

“He’s not coming,” you said, unable to keep the annoyance from creeping into your voice. “And neither is JJ or Penny.”

“He told you that?”

“No,” you replied with a sigh. “But it’s pretty obvious now, isn’t it?”

"What is?"

“That we’ve been set up,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “They’re not coming, and I’m willing to bet they never planned to.”

He frowned, his brows knitting together. “You think they did this on purpose? Why would they—”

“Come on, Reid,” you interrupted. “They’ve been nudging us to talk for weeks. What better way than to leave us no choice?”

Spencer’s gaze hardened slightly. “I don’t need to be manipulated into having a conversation,” he said sharply.

“And you think I do?” You retorted. “I’m not exactly thrilled about being tricked into a dinner date either, if that’s what this is supposed to be.”

“It’s not a date,” Spencer replied quickly, almost defensively.

“Well, that’s one thing we agree on,” you snapped, then sighed, trying to rein in your temper. “Look, I don’t want to argue. Let’s just forget this ever happened and go home.”

There was a pause as Spencer looked around, his eyes settling back on you. “You want to go home?”

“You don’t?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “I mean, we’re already here. Might as well stay and eat. It’s not like I have any better plans.”

You blinked, taken aback by his response. A part of you had expected him to jump at the chance to escape, but here he was, suggesting you to stay.

It seemed like a bad idea. The tension, the potential for awkward silences, the possibility of yet another argument—it all pointed to leaving being the better option. But against our better judgment, you found yourself considering his suggestion more than you wanted to admit.

Maybe it was the hunger gnawing at your stomach, or perhaps it was the realization that leaving now would only make things more awkward the next time you saw each other. Dinner with Spencer was the last option you’d choose, but it was better than coming home to an empty fridge.

“Fine,” you finally said, brushing past him. “But you’re paying.”

Spencer looked momentarily surprised but then nodded. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked into the restaurant, but immediately stopped in your tracks when you took in the setting. This wasn’t just a restaurant, it was a place designed for dates. The realization made you pause as you looked around the room in horror.

The dim lighting cast a soft glow on polished wood and fine china, while a gentle melody played subtly in the background, setting an unmistakable romantic mood. Just as you were taking in the scene, a hostess approached with a warm, inviting smile. 

"A table for two?" 

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you realized how the evening was poised to look. Turning slightly to gauge Spencer's reaction, you found him even more flustered, his face turning a shade redder as he stammered a response. "Uh, yes, that's—um, that will be fine."

The hostess nodded and led you to a small, intimate table near the window. Spencer fidgeted with the strap of his bag as you both sat down, his eyes darting around the room before finally settling on you. "This is... not exactly what I expected.”

You took the menu from the hostess before she left you both alone. “I’m going to kill them,” you muttered, shaking your head.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bit extreme.”

You sighed, flipping through the menu without really seeing it. “They’re always meddling. They don’t know when to stop. I'm also convinced that being locked earlier was also part of their plan. And this—this is just so...” 

“Annoying?” He offered.

“Infuriating,” you emphasized, throwing your hands up. “It’s infuriating. And embarrassing. And—”

“And yet, here we are,” he cut in, feeling the same way. Spencer paused for a moment, then leaned in slightly, sending you a pointed look. “You know, maybe we should just give them what they want.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a fact that humans are generally satisfied when they get what they want. And since what our friends want is for the two of us to get along, maybe we should just... pretend that we do.”

“Reid,” you pressed, mirroring his posture as you leaned forward. “They don’t want us to just get along. Look around us. They want us to really get along.” 

Spencer paused, considering your words, his gaze lingering on the candlelit table and the other couples around, deep in conversation. He seemed to realize the full extent of the setup, the romantic undertone that wasn't simply incidental but intentional.

“You’re right,” he finally responded, leaning back in his seat. “Forget what I said. It was stupid.”

You studied him as he opened the menu, the candlelight casting a soft glow on his face. He was right. Not only was it stupid, it was crazy. Pretending to be civil with him was one thing, pretending that you shared some kind of unspoken, lingering feelings was another thing. The mere thought of it made your heart race, but you couldn’t tell if it was from anxiety or nervousness.

You quickly shook your head. It was ridiculous. How could you even begin to pretend to have feelings for someone with whom you shared such a complicated past? How could you act like there was something more between you when the reality was so different?

The whole idea was far-fetched, almost laughable. You couldn’t imagine yourself romantically involved with him, even if it was just for pretend.

[jukeboxsweethearttt]

for older sugar daddy rafe and reader would you write their first argument or something like that

Book of Love

Oldersugardaddyboyfriend!Rafe Cameron x Fem Reader

cw:angst:( but has a fluffy ending, talks of pregnancy, Rafe’s oldest daughter Claire is older than you, Victoria is the same age as you and Hannah is younger than you. no use of y/n I think

inspired by @starfxkr sugar daddy Rafe ofc

The sprawling lawn of Rafe’s Hamptons estate basked in the glow of the setting sun, creating a picturesque scene that starkly contrasted with the storm brewing inside.

The dining room, typically a place of warmth and laughter, was now tense with an unfamiliar strain. You sat at the end of the long, gleaming table, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. Rafe stood across from you, his stance rigid and his eyes filled with frustration.

His three daughters, Claire , Victoria, and Hannah, watched the scene unfold with a mix of concern and unease.

This was the first serious argument you and Rafe had ever had. It had started over the charity gala—a high-profile event you had been working on tirelessly.

“Rafe, I just want to make this event something special, something that showcases what we can achieve together,” you said, your voice trembling slightly.

Rafe, his expression hard, replied, “This isn’t about showcasing us, Bunny. This is about making strategic decisions. You need to understand the stakes involved.”

Claire, the eldest, shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She shared a look with her sisters, Victoria, and Hannah, the youngest of the bunch.

Claire finally spoke up, her tone gentle yet firm. “Dad, she’s trying to help. She’s put a lot of effort into this.”

Rafe’s eyes softened momentarily as he looked at his daughter, but his frustration remained palpable. “I know, Claire, but this is more complicated than just putting in effort. Experience matters here.”

You felt a lump form in your throat. “Rafe, I’m not just some inexperienced kid. I’m trying to contribute, to be a part of this.”

Rafe’s gaze turned steely. “You are young and inexperienced. You don’t get how high the stakes are. This isn’t some game.”

Your heart sank at his words. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to hold back your emotions.

“I can’t believe you see me that way,” you whispered, standing up abruptly. “I thought we were in this together.”

Victoria stood, her face a mix of anger and disappointment. “Dad, you’re being unfair. She’s doing her best.”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, his frustration boiling over. “Life isn’t fair, Victoria. I’m trying to protect her from making mistakes that could cost us.”

You couldn’t bear it any longer. Tears streaming down your face, you rushed out of the room, the sound of the door slamming echoing through the house.

Claire glanced at her father, shaking her head in disappointment before following you outside.

Rafe stood there, his anger giving way to a heavy silence. Hannah finally spoke up, her voice quiet but firm. “Dad, you really hurt her.”

Outside, Claire found you sitting on a garden bench, your shoulders shaking with sobs. She sat down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey, it’s okay. He didn’t mean it he’s just stressed,” she said softly.

You wiped at your tears, shaking your head. “It’s not okay, Claire. He thinks I’m just some naive child.”

Claire sighed, her heart aching for you. “He’s scared, that’s all. He doesn’t know how to handle this.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t handle all of this stress. There’s something I need to tell you,” you said, your voice barely a whisper.

She looked at you, concern etched on her face. “What is it?”

You met her gaze, your eyes filled with a mix of fear and hope. “I’m pregnant. I just found out a few days ago.”

Claire’s eyes widened in surprise she knows you’ve wanted children of your own but was shocked at the news considering her dad’s age.

Deep down she’s kind of indifferent but pushes those feelings to the side quickly as you started to cry again from her silence.

She quickly pulled you into a tight hug. “Oh my God, that’s news. Have you told him yet?”

You shook your head. “No, I was waiting for the right moment. But now... I don’t know if there ever will be one.”

She pulled back, holding your shoulders. “You need to tell him. It might be exactly what he needs to hear.”

Back inside, Rafe was pacing the living room, his frustration giving way to a deep sense of guilt. Victoria and Hannah watched him, their expressions stern.

“Dad, don’t you think you were a bit harsh?” Victoria asked, her voice steady but reproachful. “She’s part of our family.”

Rafe stopped, his shoulders slumping. “I know, I just... I don’t know how to handle this.”

“You handle it by respecting her,” Hannah said softly. “She’s not a child, Dad. She’s your partner.”

Just then, Claire walked back in with you, your face still streaked with tears but your resolve stronger. Rafe looked up, his heart aching at the sight of you so upset.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe began, but you held up a hand to stop him.

“Before you say anything, there’s something I need to tell you,” you said, your voice steady. “I’m pregnant, Rafe.”

The room fell silent, Rafe’s eyes widening in shock. He took a step towards you, his expression softening. “You’re... you’re pregnant?”

You nodded, tears spilling over once more. “I found out a few days ago. I wanted to tell you in a special way, but...”

Rafe closed the distance between you, pulling you into his arms. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just... scared. Scared of not being good enough.”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with love and determination. “We’re in this together, Rafe. We can make it work, but you have to trust me. Trust us.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes brimming with tears. “I promise. I’ll do better. I’ll trust you, and I’ll be there for you and our baby.”

Claire, Victoria, and Hannah watched the exchange, their expressions softening with relief but making a mental note to discuss this sudden pregnancy announcement later.

The tension in the room began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and renewed commitment.

Later that evening, you found yourself in the kitchen, helping Victoria prepare dinner.

Victoria glanced over at you, offering a small smile. “I’m so happy that you stood up to him,” she said softly. “Dad needed a wake-up call.”

You returned her smile, feeling a warm sense of acceptance. “Thanks, Victoria. It means a lot that you understand.”

Meanwhile, in the living room, Rafe sat with Claire and Hannah. Claire leaned forward, her expression serious but kind.

“Dad, she’s good for you. We see how happy she makes you, but you have to let her grow up. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “I know, Claire. I just… I’ve spent so much time trying to protect everyone that sometimes I forget to let go. I’ll work on it.”

Hannah, who had been quiet until now, chimed in. “We all want the best for you, Dad. And for her. Just remember, she chose to be with you because she loves you, not because she needs a protector.”

Their words resonated with Rafe, who realized just how much he had to learn about balancing his protective instincts with respecting your independence.

He stood up, feeling a mixture of gratitude and determination. “You’re right. All of you. I’m lucky to have you four looking out for me.”

Back in the kitchen, Victoria was dishing up the last of the pasta when Rafe entered. He walked over to you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I’ve been talking with the girls,” he said, his voice soft and earnest. “And they’ve made me see things more clearly. I need to let you live your life, make your own choices. I’m so proud of you for standing up to me.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with love and relief. “Thank you, Rafe. That means a lot to me.”

Dinner was a warm, lively affair. The five of you sat around the table, sharing stories and laughter. The earlier argument seemed like a distant memory, replaced by a stronger sense of family and mutual respect.

Claire and Victoria teased Hannah about her latest crush, while Rafe kept his hand on yours under the table, a silent promise of his commitment to change.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself sitting on the balcony with Rafe, the moon twinkling above. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close.

“You know, Bunny, I’ve never felt this way before. You’ve brought so much joy into my life.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling content and secure. “And you’ve given me a life I never dreamed possible, Rafe. I’m so grateful for you.”

Rafe tilted your chin up, looking deeply into your eyes. “I promise to always support you, to let you be your own person. We’re partners in this, equal partners.”

You kissed him softly, the love between you palpable. “Thank you, Daddy. That’s all I ever wanted.”

As you both sat there, you felt a deep sense of peace. The argument had brought you closer, teaching you both valuable lessons about trust and love. And as Rafe held you close, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

The next morning, Rafe surprised you with breakfast in bed, a gesture that made your heart flutter. He sat beside you, watching you eat with a content smile.

“I thought we could spend the day together, just the two of us. How does that sound, Princess?”

You grinned, feeling the excitement bubble up inside you.

[th3crow]

DOES THAT MAKE SENSE? , aemond targaryen

I DON’T KNOW WHAT FEELS TRUE, BUT THIS FEELS RIGHT SO STAY A SEC

aemond targaryen x fem cousin reader

warnings & notes: cussing, no use of y/n, little bit of aemond and reader being insecure, targecst, betrayal reader is daemons daughter with big phat daddy issues [haven’t read the book just seen the show so if anything’s wrong pls let me know!]

winter was creeping up on kings landing. a slight breeze mixing in with an eerie feeling and spreading all throughout the land. the people were tense, whispers of war slipping in and out of the lips of innocent, afraid people. since the crowning of king aegon ii and the death of lucerys velaryon the smell of death had invaded the streets, and even the walls of the red keep.

aegon of course, ignored it. he sided with his younger brothers actions—playing it off as a mistake and standing stern with his protection of vhagar. the council warned him about rhaenyra’s upcoming wars, telling him to better be prepared—but for the king, it went through one ear and out the other.

alicent was fearful, taking her stresses out with ser criston cole—she was aware of the mistake she’d been committing, but at this point she deserved something to herself. or so she thought. her father’s shadow had always hovered over her her entire life—and now it’s hovering over her children. she desperately wished for her father to stop with his “suggestions” to the king, and as for aemond…

well as for aemond alicent was reasonably upset, but had wished to believe her son was better than this.

and as for you, alicent truly had no idea what was going to happen to you. the boys and helaena had grown accustomed to your presence in the red keep. you had been raised alongside the three as if you were a child alicent had birthed herself. she still remembered the day daemon had shown up, pleading with viserys to take care of you because he was fighting an unnecessary war and your mother would rather but herself to a blade than take care of daemons child.

viserys accepted, leaving alicent and the other maids to raise both you and helaena at the same time. daemon visited every now and then, speaking short, soft words to you. teaching you how to wield a blade and arguments that would leave you in tears. of course, people whispered rumors that you were born out of wedlock.

you had heard the news of his marriage, and the birth of his two girls—ones that you hadn’t met until his wife’s funeral. it was an odd feeling, standing next to a family that wasn’t necessarily yours, watching as your father stood behind his two crying daughters. that night, aemond had found you angrily crying on the beach.

it had hurt him to see you like this. he had grown up with you, and despite what people had said—you were his family. so he had decided that night to steal something precious from one of daemons daughters, something that could make them feel the pain of being abandoned as they had made you feel.

so that night he claimed vhagar, an act of love that had costed him an eye.

to aemond, it was worth it. stealing the dragon, seeing the look on the girls’s faces as they sobbed and fought him—aemond would steal a million dragons just to make them feel the way you had. but was even more with it, was your comfort when you had seen what lucerys had done to you.

the fight between the boys was never yours to intervene, but you would gladly stand by aegon and aemond. by your family.

but now, years later with the death of lucerys and the feeling of war being closer than ever—aemond didn’t know what to do. he had believed it was an accident, he knew it was an accident. he hadn’t wished to hurt the strong boy, he was simply owed a debt. but he knew his mother didn’t feel that way, and the others in the council looked at him with disappointment.

when you first had found out, you looked at him shocked. it pained him, you saw him with the same eyes as his own mother. but quickly those thoughts were ignored when you had asked how he was feeling.

so now, late at night he finds his way to your chambers. hoping to the gods that you’re still awake, that you won’t look at him with the eye of disappointment and that you’d understand him. just as he always tried to do for you.

he walked up the stairs, towards your chambers. the echo of his boots bouncing off the walls and the torches lighting the hallway bit by bit, his heart beating against his chest. aemond had been to your chambers many times, he had talked to you many times, but this time was different. this time he had feared that he was going to lose you to your love for your father, just as he had lost his mother to her love for rhaenyra.

when he had finally arrived, he found it surprising that there was no guards outside of your door. he scoffed it off as something aegon had probably done, commanding the guards to get drunk with him or something along those lines. but a part of aemond was worried, worried that something that happened to you. maybe you had escaped off to dragonstone and there was no guards to stop you, or maybe they had taken you.

he stood outside your door, his hand hovering over the handle before the door whipped open. his eye had met yours, causing you to jump in the shock of him standing outside your doors. “oh my gods, you frightened me—i didn’t think you were going to be there, my apologies, my prince.” you whispered, placing your hand against your beating chest.

aemond chuckled slightly, “the apology is mine, i did not mean to frighten you, princess.” he looked behind you, looking for any signs that you had attempted to escape—or that you were possibly planning too. “where were you off too?” he questioned.

your lips hung slightly open, your eyes scanning his body. he wore all black, his hands tightly behind his back as he stood tall, a slight smirk on his face as he awaited your response. despite growing up together and being older, he made you nervous. “i was off on my way to see you, actually.” you confessed.

aemond let out a sigh of relief.

“i wanted to see how you were doing.” you whispered, watching as his body relaxed itself, thankful for the fact that you were not planning on leaving the red keep—leaving him.

“may i…may i come in?” he asked, his walking slowly towards you, pushing you slightly back into your room.

you nodded slightly, moving away from him so that he could enter inside your room. he scanned it ever so slightly, noticing the paper and quill on your nightstand. his eyes turning back to you. “who are you writing too?” he questioned.

“oh nobody in particular, im hoping to find another rat catcher. helaena keeps complaining about them.” you answered. “did you want something? wine? water?” you asked, moving around your chamber to grab chalices.

aemond shook his head, “only your company.”

you smiled, sitting down on a chair that was placed in front of him. you noticed something about him looked different, he didn’t have his usual smug aura that he always had—you had seen him at bad times but never like this. he looked tired.

“are you feeling ill?” you asked.

aemond shook his head quickly, “the maesters say i’m in perfectly good condition, physically.”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you stood up. “yes, well the maesters haven’t known you as i have.” you smiled slyly. you walked closer to aemond, examining his face, placing your hand against his forehead and his eye.

aemond relaxed in your touch, closing his eyes and feeling all his problems slowly disappear. this what he craved, he loved your affection—the way you actually listened to him and had attempted to help him. his mother was once like this, but not anymore.

not after what he did.

your fingers moved slowly against his face, examining every possible thing you could feel. you slowly hovered over his scar, inching it closer and closer towards aemonds eyepatch before you felt his hand tightly grab your wrist.

you gasped, his eyes were wide open now and stinging through your skin. aemond was always defensive, especially with that of his eye—he didn’t want you to see him like this, he didn’t want for you to think badly about him.

“i’m sorry.” you whispered slightly, looking at aemond confused and slightly afraid. he had never gotten ahold of you like this.

aemond sighed slightly, letting go of his grip on your wrist and sliding his hands on top of yours, guiding them to his eyepatch. you felt the coldness of his hand on top of the warmth of yours, then the hard leather touched your hand as he helped you slowly pull off his eyepatch. slowly, you pulled it off of his head—his hand falling from yours as he looked too the floor.

you placed the eyepatch to the side, gently grabbing his chin and lifting his face to meet yours. the bright blue sapphire shining bright in your eyesight. “does it bring you pain?” you asked softly, attempting not to anger him.

“not physically.” he whispered softly.

you sighed, feeling a pain in your heart. “i’m sorry about your eye, i’m sorry about all of this.” you confessed, “i must admit…when i had heard about lucerys and about you i was pained. i did not want to believe that you had murdered an innocent child, but then i was reminded of driftmark.” “of when we were younger in kings landing and what they had done to you…by no means are you innocent in this but your nephews had murdered your innocence and childhood.” you explained—hoping not to upset him with your confession.

aemond stayed silent for a moment. processing everything you had said, “did i ever tell you why i took vhagar?” he asked.

for a moment there was a stillness in the room. you could smell the musk of the stone on the walls, feel the warmth radiating off of yours and aemonds body.

“you desired a dragon.”

“yes but…”aemond stopped himself, his eyes locking with yours as you looked at him confused. even now, he could still see that girl he once saw crying on the beach at driftmark. the one who just longed to be with her family, her true family. “i had noticed the way you looked at him. at your father, as he stood with his new children. he talked to you once during the funeral and urged you to make conversation with baela and rhaena.” “then—then i saw you. you were sat on the sand, holding back your tears.” he scoffed, “it angered me, so much so that i wanted them to feel the pain that they were causing you.”

you shook your head, feeling the tears build up in your eyes at the reimagining of the old memories. “no..you do not speak truth, do not tell me that i’m the reason your eye was stolen?” your voice slightly raised, and started trembling. aemond noticed, reaching out to grab you before you moved away from him. “no! do not touch me, how dare you tell me that i’m the reason you’re in pain!”

aemond stood up quickly, “i would rather be horribly disfigured than to see you in pain.” he confessed. you looked up at him, confused. “the only time you cause me pain is when you’re not around me. that is the only time i feel true anguish. when the incident with my nephew happened i had feared that you would never speak to me again. that you would run off to dragonstone with your father.” he spoke, he was not yelling—but his voice grew louder.

“don’t do this to me aemond, i beg of you.” you said, a tear running down your cheek. “i do not want to be the reason that you are in pain, i wish not to burden you anymore than i have my entire existence.” you sobbed. “i have admired you, my entire life. please do not do this to me now.”

aemond walked closer towards you, grabbing onto your arms and pulling you closer towards him. both of your foreheads touching. “and i have admired you my entire life, my princess.” he whispered softly, wiping the tears off of your face.

you smiled softly, looking up at aemonds eyes before down to his pale lips. slowly, the both of you inched closer to each other, your lips grazing each others before they ultimately united. at first, it was soft, a kiss of longing and admiration before it grew hungrier and into a kiss of passion and want.

the two of you broke the kiss, panting as aemond smiled before leading you towards the bed, reconnecting the kiss. his lips finding his way towards your neck as you gasped his name, and clung onto him.

you laid down on the bed, facing aemond as he hovered over you, the two of you laughing slightly as he continued kissing you. your hands finding his way towards his hip and belt, and his undoing the back of your dress.

but before you could fully commit, aemond interrupted you. stopping to fully admire you, just as he had done his entire life. only then, you were just a product of royalty, and now you were his.

“i love you.” he whispered softly, a slight vulnerability escaping with each word. his entire life, aemond had felt alone—despite having you, he never knew if you had felt the same. surley, in this point in time, you had to have felt the same, right?

you smiled softly, you had waited a long time to hear those words. late nights in the kitchens, during sparing lessons, whenever you’d both ride your dragons out late at night. stolen moments like this between the two of you you had admired, but you wanted nothing more than his confession and now you had it.

your eyes flickered quickly towards the paper and quill on your nightstand. the paper was empty, the raven had already been sent out to dragonstone. war was to come, and daemon had promised to have you by his side.

“i love you too.”

[bornanuisance]

Annabel Lee cannot die. (Theory Nevermore Ep. 108)

Let's talk about the Nevermore Finale of Season I and why it's impossible for our White Queen to die here.

(I do apologise for all the spelling mistakes)

Annabel is scared. The cunning, cut-throat Annabel is scared as shit right now. Understandable, I would be as well if there was a monsterous stag about to get me. It does make her more human, showing that she isn't invincible (on an emotional level). I know from multiple character analyses on this website regarding Annabel that this isn't the first time she's shown that she aswell is just a person . However, it's still nice to see here. As most of the smarter members of the nevermore community say, she is a morally grey character whose ambiguity is beautifully written. As long as Lenore isn't with her, she is as terrified of dying (twice) as everyone else.

And because Annabel is not so different, not as much of an Ice Queen as all think, there is room for growth. We already saw it with her trying to be the true Poshbesties with Prospero as we hoped for. For plots' sake, it will take a while for her to open up to anyone else. However, I do believe that somewhere down the road, Annabel could be able to actually be friends with Ada. Proof? This panel right here:

Annabel Lee and Ada are equally afraid. They're in the exact same situation here, its dangerous, and there is no room for scheming shenanigans or what else. I do hope that they'll grow closer, seeing as Ada looks up to Annabel so much, she could be her guiding light in becoming her own person, rather than sucking up to others- trying to fit in - in hope of being loved or even appreciated (but as we know our chess queen, shell probably make her worse for her own sake first).

Now to my actual point, the reason why I am even making this post:

Annabel cannot and will not die.

I suspect she won't even be hurt (at least not seriously). Why? Well, my main reason is this interaction:

We know that the phantoms, esp. the dogs, attack anything that's breathing. Now, if it would be the same for the stag, then he would have no reason to huff at Annabel Lee. On the contrary, he would have attacked as soon as he laid eyes upon her and Ada, like his dogs.

So why wouldn't he kill/hurt Annabel? Because she is not his main quarry. Lenore is. We know (as long as the raven isn't mistaken) that the Wild Hunts' main goal is getting Lenore. He must have smelled Lenores scent on Annabel, as they've interacted and even hugged on the arboretum (to avoid falling to death that is) the very same day, since him huffing at her, smelling her.

Same reason why Nurse Dolly is still alive as well. She saw the stag, it was staring her right in the eye, but rather than him, his dogs were the ones who attacked. He has no interest in anyone besides his quarry.

Besides the in-story reasons, someone on the nevermore discord also said that rednflynn already confirmed and roughly planned 4 seasons of Nevermore. So, it would make no sense to kill one of the protagonists so early on in the series.

Now, multiple people already expressed their hopes that Lenore - like the Prince Charming she is/was in her previous life - will come and save Annabel, maybe even getting her spectre. I do not believe this will happen. There are multiple reasons for that. Firstly, it would throw off the whole dynamic of the two groups, kinda destroying Annabel Lees + Lenores' plan. Secondly, Ms. Poppet already explained that transforming into your spectre to confront the wild hunt is basically a suicide mission. And I doubt that Lenores spectre would have enough plot armour to overpower the stag.

Third and foremost: It's too soon. And it would be kind of anticlimactic. Lenores Spectre is one of the biggest mysteries in the series. Her transforming in the first few episodes of the second season would ruin one of the most fun speculations of the nevermore community. Personally, for me, it would make reading the webcomic further on a little bit less engaging. Here is how I believe it will more likely go down:

Annabel + Ada will be saved by either Prospero, the deans (unlikely, since they can not be contacted in dreamland) or just a lapse of judgement in the stags mind. Either they use the moment of silence right now, with prospero/will/montresor showing up and making a run for it with Annabel and Ada, or the stag will ignore them (since their not his quarry) or someone, a background character or so, will take his attention off them by screaming or panicking. Of course, this is only about the stag. We do not know if the phantom riders with him are like the dogs, impolitely aggressive from head to toe/tail, or if they're more the secondaries to the stag, only attacking when necessary.

Edit: I am not sure if the 4 Seasons are really confirmed or if my mind just really really deluded itself, so take it with a grain of salt...

Edit Part 2: Nvm the comments are so thoughful and confirming it that Nevermore will have 3-4 seasons

[6esiree]

Alastor x Reader x Lucifer

Randomly thinking about Lucifer going to a bar during what’s supposed to be his and Lilith’s anniversary, and he ends up befriending you, the bartender. He likes you but he doesn’t want to get into a relationship because he’s scared, so he just comes around like, once a week to see you, drink and talk and all that fun platonic, not so platonic kinda stuff. Lucifer is just lowkey flirting with you.

Charlie finds out about you somehow and she’s like, hey, why don’t you introduce them to me, to all of us at the hotel? She wants to meet the person who’s been making her dad’s days a little brighter. Lucifer is hesitant about doing that, maybe because introducing you to his daughter would probably give you the wrong idea, but he eventually acquiesces and brings it up to you.

Just to his luck, you accept, and he’s horrified to see everybody waiting for the two of you in the parlor, including Alastor. He brings out the worst in him, and the last thing he wants is for you to see an unsavory side of him. The interesting part is that Alastor doesn’t actually do anything to provoke Lucifer, at least not directly. He notices the longing looks the King of Hell shoots your way.

You try to shake Alastor’s hand, but instead, he slightly bends down and brings your knuckles in for a soft kiss. His lips linger long enough for Lucifer to see, and oh, it pisses him off. But what is he supposed to do about it, especially when you seem so moved by him, unused to the old-fashioned way of greeting when you manifested in Hell just recently? Your cheeks are flushed.

Alastor continues to chat you up, and you’re charmed by his persona. You honestly think his way of being is cute, like he’s out of a story book. Meanwhile, Lucifer lingers nearby, shooting Alastor displeased looks every time he turns in his direction to smile wickedly at him. At least you didn’t have to come back, and he’s relieved by that—until Charlie offered you a place at the hotel.

When you say yes, Lucifer instantly felt his heart plummet into his stomach. Alastor notices this, so when you move in, he immediately befriends you. He’s enjoying fucking around with Lucifer, but you actually end up growing on Alastor, so this whole situation backfires on him. He doesn’t realize it, though, mistaking his rapid heartbeat, sweaty palms, and bouts of jitters as an illness.

Alastor eventually consults Rosie about this, and she’s like, well, when did it start? He says around the time he met you, mentioning that these symptoms strangely only occurred with you. Rosie shrugs, suggesting that maybe he hadn’t fallen ill, just in love. Upon hearing this, Alastor immediately distances himself from you, but then he realizes it only makes him feel worse.

Idk, y’all. I’m just yapping while I’m stuck in the car, but I think it would be interesting to have these two pining for you. Lucifer can’t get mad at Alastor because you were supposed to be his friend, but Alastor? He doesn’t hesitate to fault Lucifer. By the time they both accept that they like you, though, they had accidentally pushed you away in the process.

I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s done something similar to this already, but uhh, I don’t read fics with multiple ships. I just like the idea of Alastor using you to get on Lucifer’s nerves, but he accidentally falls in love with you. He’s like, damn… that’s crazy, anyway I’m going to blame Lucifer for my actions, LOL. Rosie would help Alastor throughout all of this, and Charlie would do the same with Lucifer.

[thewritetofreespeech]

So I was thinking about Gale’s isolation area (because I was being a saddie, not a baddie) and realized that probably the worst part of it for him was that Mystra wouldn’t speak to him.

She cast him out. Threw him away. But more than that she wouldn’t even speak to him, no matter how much Gale probably tired. Which was probably a lot. He probably went through all the stages of grief during this: denial (“she’ll talk to me again when she calms down and realizes this was all a mistake”), anger (“why won’t you speak to me?! I did everything you asked and you can’t even talk to me now?!”), bargaining (“please…please just speak to me again. I’ll do anything just…please.”), depression (“why would a god want to talk to a mortal who spurned her? I was probably nothing to her. our relationship meant nothing to her”), then acceptance (“she’s never going to speak to me again.”)

The silent treatment is probably the worst punishment you can inflict on Gale. You can’t solve the problem if you don’t talk about it. He can’t apologize if you’re not speaking to him (well, he can, but no one will listen). And if someone won’t talk to him or tell him what’s wrong, he gets in his head and imagines all sorts of things that could be wrong and how this will inevitably end in failure.

So not only does he feel like a failure (not only for being cast out but incredibly stupid, which is another blow because he puts so much value in being so smart) but he can’t fix it. Gale probably resigned himself to his death, probably wished for it if only not wanting to hurt others, and probably felt that the worst part was he would die and never get to apologize. "Death is certain. Mystra's forgiveness is not." He says that line with such conviction that Gale has probably said it a thousand times to himself alone in his tower.

Anyway, I was sad now you all be sad too. This has been my TED Talk.

[axelsagewrites]

Where Am I?*Part Five

Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, Bjorn

Word count:  1531

Warnings: reader learning archer, sassy bjorn, emotionally complex ivar, threats, time travel, drinking, hangover

Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies

Part one Part two Part three Part four

Masterlist Here

Last night had been the first truly relaxing nights of your stay so far. You drank, sang guitar round a campfire on the beach, learned some Viking songs and tall tales, and now woke up with a splitting hangover. “Time to get up,” Ubbe said as he opened the door.

You just grumbled in response, pulling the covers further over your head. You heard sighing then footsteps then suddenly felt the shivering cold. Ubbe stood grinning over your, “Revenge,” he grinned down at you, offering you a hand.

“Die,” you grumbled, burying your head into the pillow.

You could hear laughter from the door, “Finally becoming one of us,” Ivar, you think, laughed.

“Or worse. she’s becoming like you,” Sigurd’s teasing led to more cursing, some thuds, and Ubbe running to split up some kind of fight as you sat up in bed. This was going to be a long day.

-

“Why do I need to learn this?” you whined as Hvitserk helped you load an arrow onto your bow.

“Well if you like to eat you need to learn how to shoot,” Ubbe said as he and Sigurd leant against a tree to watch your struggles. Ivar was sat just a few feet away on a cut down tree.

all boys were noticeably behind you as they watched the arrow sink into a tree three feet from your target. Hvitserk helped you load another arrow before making the mistake of joking to a very hungover, very fed-up woman. “How are you getting worse?”

You huffed, spinning around still holding the bow making all the boys duck. Even Hvitserk jumped away, “Watch where you point that thing!” Sigurd said, hands covering his face.

“Scared of some little girl?” Ivar laughed. Though it stopped when you turned the arrow at him. He held his hands in the air in mock defence, “I thought we were friends,”

“Don’t test me,” you grumbled, turning back to the target. “This was so much easier on the Wii,”

“What’s a Wii?” you sighed as the four asked in unison. Instead of answering you ignored them, rolling your shoulders back before taking aim again. Breathe in, breathe out, and release.

Thud. The arrow hit the edge of the target. “You’ll get there- “Ubbe tried to speak but you cut him off.

“I did it!” you almost screamed, jumping up and down. “Ha take that!” you said, thrusting the bow up like you’d won the Olympics making the boys laugh.

“Please if we were hunting not only would you scare away the deer, but you only would’ve shot his ankle,” Hvitserk said, as he pulled out another arrow for you to use.

You rolled your eyes as you loaded it yourself this time, all be it with a slight struggle without his wins, “Don’t you guys ever celebrate the small victories?”

“What’s the point of that?” Ubbe asked with all seriousness.

“For motivation? To be happy?” you said, like it was the most obvious thing as you lined up your shot. Breathe in and release. “See!” you said, the arrow now slightly closer to the centre than before, “Positive thinking gets you places,”

“Yeah, like the bottom of a pile of dead bodies,” Ivar chortled.

You turned around with a sickeningly sweet smile, “Would you like to be one of them?”

A small smirk formed on his face as the other boys laughed. You felt Hvitserk place his arm over your shoulder, “Oh you’ll fit in nicely soon enough,”

-

By the end of archery practise you were now able to hit the target each time. Not the centre but still. Progress was there. Then it was there turn to do their real practising. Watching Ivar hit the bullseye with his axe each time as he glared at Sigurd made you thankful guns weren’t invented here. You almost told them about them but even if they were nice to you, you didn’t need to give them anymore ideas.

By the time you got back to Kattegat the sun was beginning to set and dinner was nearly ready. Bjorn joined you once again. Apparently, this was unusual for the Ironborn however it was Hvitserk who told you this and you quickly learned he was a massive gossip. Not that you were complaining. However thankfully for you Ragnar and Aslaug were not joining you. Its not that you didn’t like them, but Ragnar asked you a million question while she had a way of staring through your sole.

Somehow you ended up between him and Ivar and any time someone told a story your legend you didn’t understand he was quick to whisper in your ear. “What lies are you telling her brother?” Bjorn, who was sat across from you, asked as he was telling a story of his latest travels.

“That you truly are as tough as you look,” Hvitserk smirked. Despite not having Ivar’s rage or Sigurd’s instigation, Hvitserk was clearly able to hold his own.

Bjorn hummed disapprovingly before turning back to you, “How unfortunate you travel all this way to be stuck with these fools,” he said, glancing round the table, “Not a real man among them,”

“Maybe,” you said, deciding if you were going to be surrounded by argumentative Vikings you may as well try fit in, “Or maybe we have a different definition of a real man,”

“And what would your definition be?” he asked, putting his elbows on the table, and leaning in closer.

His eyes were locked on yours, so you decided instead to let yours look him up and down before sitting back, “Why? Do you need some lessons on how to be one?”

The younger Ragnorsson’s sniggered while Ubbe watched the whole scene carefully. Your eyes stayed locked on Bjorn’s until he sat back in his chair with a smile, “There’s hope for you yet, little one,” he said before dropping the smile, “Though I don’t recommend questioning me again,” The sight made your blood run cold but you did your best to smile, bringing a cup of wine to your lips as the meal soon continued.

-

Somehow you managed to escape from the brothers while they were distracted by finding a new crate of ale. While drinking wasn’t exactly restricted in university, they drank like it was a sport and there was no way you could keep up.

Even though you now wore a Vikings dress and apron there was some things from home you couldn’t let go of; modern underwear and sleeping in a comfy t-shirt. It was the one you had arrived in though admittedly you were going to have to wash it and your other clothes soon. The issue was that meant asking one of the brothers where or how to wash it and you had no desire for them to see these items. Well not yet at least.

 When you got back to your room you slipped out the starched dress and into the soft cotton shirt and got under your furs about to sleep. Before you could however the door opened. “Ivar?”

“My brothers bore me,” he sighed as he crawled over to your bed. You pulled the furs slightly closer, realising you only had the t-shirt on as your cheeks flushed. Ivar took no notice as he pulled himself up to sit beside you, “You were the only interesting one there,”

“A little flattery goes a long way,” you said but he quirked his head at that, “It’s an expression where I’m from,”

“Is flattery not a good thing?” he asked.

You shrugged, “Depends. My professor told me flattery and insults raise the same question; what do you want? Though I think he stole that from someone,”

“Well, all I want is your company,” he answered and at rare moments when you were alone Ivar didn’t look blood thirsty and terrifying. In fact, he seemed kind of gentle as he let a small smile escape. You couldn’t help letting out a light laugh, “Though I don’t understand how someone can steal words,”

Again, you shrugged, “I guess our people just value different things,” you said as a silence washed over you both.

After a few moments Ivar broke it, “I don’t think so. I think, deep down, all we all want is to be safe,” he said it quietly, as if he was worried someone may eaves drop.

It broke your heart a little though, “I suppose but I would’ve said happy,”

“Happy is a dangerous emotion,” he said, staring off into the distance, “everyone craves it, so they chase it, but they assume there is only so much of it to go around so they steal it. I do not need to be happy. Just content,”

You weren’t sure why you grabbed his hand, but you gave it a soft squeeze. His cheeks tinged pink, but you pretended not to notice, “I think content is a different kind of happy. Maybe if we were all so content with it, we could all be happy,”

“Maybe,”

“It’s a dangerous word,” you said.

Ivar snorted, “How can a word be dangerous?”

“How can happiness be?” you shot back with a small smile.

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[vampire-exgirlfriend]

You guys, what the fuck is up with the increase in stealing and plagiarising in this fandom lately? When did that become a thing that was okay to do?

The first time I was flat out plagiarized was almost four years ago in a different fandom. A well known author in that fandom took the first paragraph of a short one shot, one of the first things I’d ever posted and that I was incredibly proud of, switched a few words, and then used it as the summary for their slightly longer fic. They then went on to steal the premise of my ficlet and just…make it longer. This was brought up in a discord server a friend of mine was in that I wasn’t and the general consensus was “who would believe you? You’re nobody.” So I kept my mouth shut and I deleted my fic because seeing it made me feel like shit. Something similar then happened to a friend of mine with the titles of her fics being stolen, flat out and word for word, for the same characters. And again it was “no one will believe you.”

We shut up. We stuck it out. And then when it kept happening, to us and to others, we left that fandom.

I was so, so excited when HotD aired. I was back in my ASOIAF phase that had never actually ended. It was a new opportunity to make friends with common interests and my writing improved so much because of how passionate about the canon material I was. I have made some of the most incredible friends, like life-long, stay up all night talking, come to my house or let’s hang out when you’re in my state/country kind of friends. It’s pretty amazing. But this fandom is a whole different beast than any other I’ve been involved with. I have no idea if it’s the general age of the fandom, or the lack of prior fandom experience, or what us old people call the “tiktokifcation of fandom.” But it’s different. And while that’s usually a good thing, there are so many times when this has been awful. There is a huge lack of accountability here. People are stealing things. And the weirdest part is, they don’t care! It is plagiarism to have someone else's story opened while you write yours so that you can tone match the other writer. It is plagiarism to take people’s well thought out ideas and then use them beat for beat. I get it, it’s fic, nothing is wholly original, we are going to see idea recycling! That’s just fandom. But to model your entire story off of someone else’s is heinous. And it’s wrong. And this literally just happened to a very good friend of mine. When she mentioned she was uncomfortable with it and had blocked the person who did this, someone she considered a level headed mutual (who has recently admitted to plagiarising someone else themselves, mind you) told her that she was just drama baiting and didn’t have the right to be upset. The same thing happened to me with a now deleted creator who told me that she dragged me in her discord server and that her friends (all big name creators would essentially “black list me” for saying anything).

It’s not dramatic to not be okay with your work being stolen! This is a normal fucking reaction. In trad publishing or academia, this shit gets you banned, expelled, etc. It can ruin your life.

I received a slew of anons recently asking for help with graphic making and editing. And I was so excited about them. That shit is fun for me. We chatted for a while, with them on anon, and that was that. Until I got an anon letting me know that the person I was talking with was someone who had stolen ideas and storylines from me and other creators. So I looked, I asked friends to look, and the consensus was “yeah, this is fucking plagiarism, and it’s weird.” All of the edit stuff she’d asked about was used on an edit that was a direct rip off of my own. But I elected to not make a thing of it, to ignore it, to wash my hands of it because of the weird fucking trend of calling out theivery being labeled as drama baiting. And I didn’t want that, not after I had genuinely made the mistake of thinking that someone had stolen an idea from me when they hadn’t (calm down, we’re really close friends now). This person deleted their old blog and so I thought it was over. And then yesterday I got a dm from this new blog I didn’t even know existed accusing me of sending them harassing anons.

A blog, who had stolen from me and at least four other people, who had reached out to me on anon for help and ideas, that at this point I didn’t even know existed anymore, said they knew I was sending hateful anons accusing them of theft. I wasn’t, of course, because I had no idea they even existed, and it made no sense that I would even know they’d created another blog. I only found out about their new blog when they dm’d me from it. But they had obviously done this to enough people that they were now getting called out on it.

You guys, we have to fucking stop acting like this. This fandom needs to stop stealing from each other and eating our own. And if someone brings up that they’ve had an idea stolen, we need to take them seriously instead of insinuating they’re only attempting to cause drama. Stop sending people unhinged anons because you feel like you’re guilty of lifting from another creator and just work on creating something original. Writing is hard. Giffing and making edits is fucking hard. And no, nothing will ever be 100% original, that’s just impossible at this point, but stop fucking taking things that aren’t yours and claming them as your own. Do better. Grow up.

[defnotanarc]

Clegan Fic Recs 💖

I hit 100 followers! 🥲💕 so here's my lil list i've been meaning to compile for a while now... 😅 Note: I'm a whore so practically all of these are smut.

—

Close and Yet Closer by Anonymous・E・29.3k WIP

“Thing is,” he said, “If you do tell me to go, I’m gonna need you to make me believe it, Buck. Really make me believe it. Tell me, ‘I love Marge. She’s the only one for me.’ Tell me, ‘I wasn’t trying to make you jealous in there, Bucky, I swear.’ Because I know I was. Tell me you didn’t like it when you made me come. Tell me you didn’t like it when you pulled your cock over me. Tell me you don’t want me like I want you. Tell me all that, Buck, and I’ll believe you.”

Before the Dawn by atlanticslide ・ ・ M ・ 38k

His eyes are closed when Buck pulls back and whispers so close to him that his lips brush against John’s, “How many goddamn times I gotta tell you the name’s Gale, asshole?” And then kisses him one more time.

Reverie by Avonne @avonne-writes・E・55.7k

Gale's lips split into the biggest grin Bucky had ever seen. “I knew it was you!”

Aubade by Avonne @avonne-writes・E・7.1k

"Well, we're very good friends."

In the Heat of the Night by Avonne @avonne-writes・E・4.5k

“Careful, John, I might mistake you for a gentleman.” “I am a gentleman.” “Uh-huh, knocking me up before marriage?”

the air between us by burglarbilbo @buckyclevens・E・34k WIP

“Sweetheart, Abbie was not my sister,” Lennie says. Gale, coming back to the table from the sink, starts to apologize when Lennie holds up a weathered hand. “She was my wife.”

Asleep Inside the Cannon's Mouth by Coolguyreiner (luciferswhiteloafers)・E・3.1k

He was John’s conscience and John was his beating heart, walking around the world out of his chest, saying what he couldn’t, indulging where he feared to do so.

To be alone with you by Damn_Illusive・NR・22.8k

I'D RATHER YOU WERE CRAZY THAN DEAD John roars, into his own head.

Because I Liked You Better by electric_android・E・3.8k

The playful question is accompanied by a hand wrapping around his cock and pulling a frankly humiliating squeak from John who can barely stop himself from finishing like an inexperienced virgin.

Don't Forget To Breathe by FascinationStreet @fascinationstrt・E・2.1k

“Gonna come in a sec doll,” he whispers as he traces Buck's lips with his thumb, “you want it?”

Electra by fitzgender @nigesakis・E・5.2k

A girl after all, hm, Gale? He mocks.

little fix by ForASecondThereWedWon @forasecondtherewedwon・E・2.7k

Gale reached up and braced his palms overhead, just to wait John out, but when John turned, he knew he’d caught the scent of the cologne again. Mostly because John went, “Oh, god,” and swept his gaze down Gale’s body.

I'll be coming home, wait for me by FreeLove (smallMar)・E・10.5k

“Land for me today, Gale, alright? Can’t do this without you,” he says, looking straight into Gale’s eyes, and for a moment Gale is short for words. Bucky has never called him by his given name. Ever.

take in the sweetness by hart・E・23k

“This where all your volume goes, huh?” John says, breathless as he speeds up. “Quiet thing, I thought, when we met. God- you just need a good fuck, then you’re loud as bells.”

this must be the place by hart・E (Violence)・4k

He lets go of Buck’s hand, stands up slightly to bend over him, holding his face between both palms and pressing their foreheads together again. John kisses the space between his brows without thinking, but if Doc reacts at all John couldn't care less.

I Don’t Wanna Be Alone Tonight by johnslittlespoon (quickcatton) @johnslittlespoon・E・4.2k

The few times John comes to bed late, he realizes he’s not sure how to fall asleep alone anymore, which evokes a lot of feelings, none of which he quite feels like unpacking.

Would you do anything for me? by MarionetteFtHJM @marionettefthjm・E・22.6k

“That he saw our little Gale in training one day and couldn’t resist his sad, sad eyes. So he adopted him, took him home like a pup, gave him his name and then told everyone else to fuck off.”

You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate by MarionetteFtHJM @marionettefthjm・E・9.5k

No, he’s not John’s wife. And it’s not like he’d want to be, but. But.

and the waxen wings of ambition melt by MarionetteFtHJM @marionettefthjm・E・26.8k

“Mom and dad fightin’ again,” Curt sing-songs under his breath like he’s asking for an ass-kicking.

I might survive by MarvaLamb @lambcow・E + T・15k

Gale has a wicked smirk on his face. “Don’t forget your manners, Major,” Gale whispers in the most rugged voice Bucky has ever heard from Gale’s lips in his life, and Bucky’s brain absolutely short circuits.

+

That man antagonizes the fuck out of Buck at any given chance and Benny doesn’t even think he realizes it. And the worst thing is they both seem to like it.

Synchronicity by mercess @spaceshipkat・E・28.3k

P.P.S. You told me once that I was the Hundredth’s unicorn. What I never told you is that you’ve always been mine.

bomber's moon by moonrocks・E・13.8k

“I love you, Gale,” John says quietly. “I need you to know that, alright? I’ve always loved you.” Gale just stares at him, forgetting every word he’s ever learned.

5 times John asks Gale to kiss him (and one time Gale asks him instead) by NiciJones @nicijones・T・9k

How can Buck stand there and accuse him of loving him like a summer fling when John loves him like war loves death, relentlessly and inevitably?

if that isn’t love, it’ll have to do by phlegmatic @irregularcollapse・E・23k WIP

“You couldn’t beat me indoors and sober,” Gale drawls back, but it’s the easiest thing he’s done tonight to wheel his bike around and swing his leg over it. He’s already pedaling when he adds, “You definitely won’t beat me drunk and queer.”

You and me (Against the world) by PinkSiames @pinksiames・E・3.1k

“Well it seems to be making you blush, is that what you are? A girl Buck? My girl?” John’s voice dropped an octave on the last question.

breathing in (under your skin) by plulu・M + E・9.1k WIP

“As a wise man told me, Buck, I’m their commanding officer.” Gale winced, words thrown back in his face. “It’s my job to set an example. To raise morale.”

+

There was a moment of tandem, of perfect harmony, as if they were a unit that had never been separated. They moved as if they weren’t thinking, like their brains hadn’t caught up with their instincts. Gale felt without registering the coolness of the wall as his back collided with it, felt the warm pressure of John’s front as it suddenly pressed against his chest.

Chocolate Squaresby pyrotechnicbean・E・3.1k

“I wanna fuck you.” He leaned down and whispered the words against the shell of Gale’s ear. “I wanna fuck you until I forget my own goddamn name.”

Do You Believe in Luck? by pyrotechnicbean・E・3.7k

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that?” Gale chuckled, shock and uncertainty fading away. “Tell me.” “Since you dropped out of that fort in Texas with your hair all over the place, winked at me and said ‘Nothin else like her.’” Buck had forgotten about that, too many other things crowding for attention in his mind but now he laughed. “I wanted you to notice me real bad.” “Oh I noticed, Buck. I definitely noticed.”

Born To Ride by shayde_hale @bucking-mustangs-with-wings・E・17k

Both of them moan gently at the sensation, Buck's eyes trailing over the sight in front of him as he watches his own cum seep from the slight gape of John's hole, clenching around the ghost of him and has to fight valiantly against the small twitch of interest his damp cock makes at the image.

+

Under his tattoo, beneath the Born To Ride in black marker, were the words Gale Cleven in perfect handwriting scrawled across the skin.

in our bedroom after the war by stereobone @stereobone・E・29.6k

"Well, I'll be damned," Bucky says. "Gale Winston Cleven. You're cooking me a roast."

+

"What, Gale, you worried I was going to let him think we're queer?" [...] "You think I was going to tell him that you sleep in my bed most nights and like cooking me dinner?" [...] "How much longer are you going to keep pretending that you're doing all that for me?" [...] "That it's not good for you too?"

A Suite at the Ritz by stillheremydear・E・2.2k

“You do know how to make a girl feel special.” “Nothing but the best for my baby doll,” quips another familiar voice, Major Egan.

Amoretti / Little Beasts by Swifty_Fox @swifty-fox・E・28.9k WIP

“Know I’m so deep up in your cunt but y’gotta be quiet sweetheart."

BONUS: John/Gale/Marge OT3

—

Who Are We To Fight The Alchemy?・by edbl・E・23k

He feels Marge shudder above him and John sigh long and drawn out, before he guides the head of John’s cock to Marge’s entrance and with his thumb, presses on the underside of the head until it slips inside her. Marge gasps, a short stuttered sound that draws out into a sigh to match John’s, synchronous in their pleasure as she sinks down onto John and the length of his cock disappears inside her.

Making Sure to Take Care by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)・E・3.1k

"Seems I interrupted something," Buck says after another moment. He sets Marge on her feet, then traces his hands up and down her torso, drinking her in. "Can't say I mind."

where our heads lived and were by seresins @everyangel・E・8.3k WIP

He smiles crookedly, charming lines appearing on his face, and Marge is struck so suddenly by how handsome he is that she wants to kiss him again in earnest. The urge is so strong that it’s all she can do to swallow it down.

[a-killer-obsession]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 34 - Empty

Everything goes to shit again, who is surprised? Please heed the AO3 tags for this one, immensely dark chapter ahead.

Word Count: ~3.5k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055

You could barely make out the jagged rocks below you under the white seafoam that crashed against them, the half moon giving just enough light to make out your surroundings but not enough to pinpoint colours. You probably could have if you had your mask, but you’d left it back at the ship, along with any happy memories you previously had. The sound of the waves crashing echoed up the side of the cliffs, a howling wind at your back bidding you to step forward, encouraging you. Your hand rested on your abdomen, empty, void of anything under the bandage that covered it. Only one week ago you’d discovered you were having a boy, and now you were alone. Silent tears rolled down your cheeks from eyes that already stung from days worth of sobbing. There was no sound accompanying it, you didn’t have the energy left, and your throat was raw from screaming. It didn’t matter, you were exhausted, you were sore, your heart was torn to shreds, but the pain would end soon.

Cold grass coated with the early morning dew wet your bare feet, sore from running over gravel and dirt paths. The sun was doing its best to break past the horizon, but you would never see its efforts fulfilled. You had no plan on making it as far as dawn, this was as far as you go. A lifetime of fighting, and you were admitting defeat. You thought back on the last three days, all the things that brought you to this moment, the things that finally broke you after years of pain and suffering, the things that led you to the cliffside.

[Three days ago]

“Will you just fucking listen to me woman?” Killer shouted after you as you unsheathed your katana to check it over before replacing it and sliding it into your belt. “It’s not safe”

“What am I good for then, Kil?” you huffed, moving to attach your dagger to your thigh, “My role on this ship is as a weapon, I’m not just going to sit around like some broodmare. I feel fine, I’m only five months along for fucks sake”

“But what if they see your belly and target you?” he urged, following you around the room as you gathered your weapons.

“So what if they do?” you replied, “I’ll protect myself like I do from every other enemy. You know perfectly well I’m a competent fighter”

“I know you are, but you’ve been so tired lately, what if you’re not as focused and you make a mistake?” he pleaded, “I’m not asking you to entirely sit out, just go sit with Double like you did when you were hurt, you can still fight from up there, but it’ll be safer”

“Yeah, and no fun,” you complained, “I’m done with this conversation Kil, I’m fighting, you can’t stop me”

You stormed off before he could say anything else, huffing in annoyance. Ever since your belly had started to become noticeable, people had started treating you differently. You felt like nothing but an incubator, like all you were good for was growing babies. The coddling was getting suffocating, you fucking hated it. You were an army destroying weapon, not a fucking delicate little thing. And you enjoyed fighting, so you were just as excited as always when the lookout called out a marine ship had been spotted. Killer had been quick to find you and try to convince you to stay out of it, but you were going to go insane if he made you stay out of fights for the next four months. You’d promised not to use meteor wave, but that was the best you could do.

Kid scowled at you as you appeared out on deck with your weapons equipped and a frown on your face, Killer following out behind you, his shoulders tense. He decided not to get into it, clearly Killer had been unsuccessful at getting you to stay back, and like hell were you going to listen to Kid. Frankly, you were scary while pregnant, captain or not, he liked his balls where they currently were and would rather not have them ripped off today. Cannonfire drew his attention and he started using his devil fruit to send them right back to sender, explosions rocking the marine ship as it drew closer.

“At least stay on the Victoria,” Killer pleaded as he stood behind you, “please, for me”

“Fine,” you huffed, “but that’s as much as I’m willing to hold back”

“Thank you,” he sighed, stepping in front of you so he could bonk his mask against yours as you makeshift way of kissing, before turning back to the fight and jumping the short distance to the marine ship.

The battle erupted on both ships and you swung into action, running between marines and bursting their hearts inside them as you moved. You drew your blade as you approached the back of a marine who was fighting Pomp, taking off the man’s head and continuing without even waiting for the body to floor. You were just as swift as always, just not quite as agile since you couldn’t bend as low as usual. Your swollen breasts complained from the continuous jostling, you really needed to buy a sports bra, but you ignored them and continued fighting.

Mosh cried out from somewhere on your left and you turned to assist him. It was a split second of distraction, but it was enough for a marine to get the upper hand on you, kicking you right in the gut. A sharp pain rolled through you and made you gag, and you grabbed the marine by his neck and melted his spinal cord, letting him fall limp to the ground. You ignored the pain as best you could, continuing at a slower pace as you kept up the fight. Hip appeared next to you, covering your back as she saw your struggles.

Something started to trickle between your legs, and you groaned as the worst cramp you’d ever had ripped through your abdomen. You collapsed against the mast, Hip quick to protect you as you reached down and swiped a hand against the trickling liquid, pulling it back to inspect and finding your fingers red and dripping with fresh blood.

“No no no no no NO,” you cried out as another cramp made you cry out in pain. “Not now, please, please, it’s too soon, you’re not ready”

Try as you might, your body wouldn’t listen to you, leaning against the mast for support as you screamed. Hip took one moment to look down at you, seeing the blood between your legs and the anguish on your face as you looked back at her.

“What do you need?” Hip asked as she cut down another marine.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” another groan was torn from your throat as wave after wave of pain drove through you, an incessant need to push taking over even though you knew it wasn’t right. You squeezed your thighs together, crying out in pain, the cramps getting worse as every muscle in your abdomen tried to push against you. There was nothing you could do, you couldn’t fight it, your body wouldn’t listen. “It’s coming, oh god”

“KILLER!” Hip called out, scanning the deck desperately for the stripped mask of the first mate. He was on the other ship, his mask turning in her direction as he heard his name called. The concern was clear on Hip’s face even from the other ship. He heard your screams now behind her and saw your kneeling figure, his eyes wide as fear overcame him and he ran towards you as fast as he could, cutting down whoever was in his path.

Between your legs something was tearing you open. It was all too fast, the baby was small but your body hadn’t had any time to prepare, you weren’t open enough, and you screamed as it forced its way out. You felt the small head in your hand, kneeling with your head against the mast, your face wet as you sobbed. As soon as the head had passed, the rest came quickly, sliding from your body with a wet squelch and a rush of fluid. You looked down at the lifeless body in your hands, no bigger than a sweet potato, nowhere near developed enough to take even a single breath. Ten minutes ago you'd felt them move inside you, and now they were dead in your palms, covered in amniotic fluid and blood. You quivered, your entire body shaking with a level of despair you never thought possible as you fought to not gag from the pain.

Crying wasn't enough, your rage and sorrow was too much. The air around you began to tingle with electricity, the electrons around the two ships beginning to move faster and faster. You threw back your head and screamed, and in a flash of blinding light, a thick blade of lightning summoned down from the cloudless sky and struck the mast of the marine ship. There was a deafening crack of thunder and wood and the mast split right down the middle, straight to the heart of the ship, where the boat tore open and the ocean began to flood through. Kid called a hasty retreat from the enemy ship as it began to sink, everyone more than confused at what had just happened. They didn't know the pain they would return to on the Victoria Punk, they had no way of guessing how truly wrong things had gone in only a few short minutes.

Killer finally reached Hip, who stepped aside to reveal your crumpled body, cradling something unseen protectively in your arms and sobbing, blood pooling underneath you. He stood over you and finally saw it, his son, his tiny baby, too small to exist, too still to be alive. He roared in pain and dropped to his knees, his tears seeping through the holes in his mask as he clawed at the wooden deck and sobbed. The baby was so small in your hands, he’d never seen something so small. The rest of the marines were quickly cut down, Kid using his fruit to crush the remainder of the ship, before coming to his best friend’s side. He saw the tiny baby, lifeless, covered in blood, growing colder every minute, and he did something he hadn’t done since Victoria had died. He fell to his knees and sobbed - loud, anguished cries that had the rest of the crew pausing and paying attention. One by one they fell to their knees too, the Kid Pirates kneeling in a semicircle that fanned out from you, the air thick with weeping and despair. Only one didn’t fall, as Mohawk made his way through the crowd. He too mourned, but that didn’t do anything to help what your body had been through. You were still alive, and you needed help, that was all that mattered right now. At five months gestation he had no hope of saving the baby, it was an impossible effort, he didn't need to see it to know it'd never taken a breath, it simply didn't have the ability to. You wavered slightly as he knelt beside you, clammy and pale, the pool of blood under you getting wider by the second.

“Yin, I know you’re sad, but we need to get you to the infirmary,” he said softly. “I’m not gonna take your baby, I promise, I just want to help you”

You knew Mohawk was right, you could feel your life slipping away from you as you bled out internally. Killer was lost to his emotions as you tried to stand, holding the small body for him to take. He held it gingerly as you wobbled on your feet, before collapsing entirely as the strain and blood loss finally became too much. Kid caught you easily, sweeping you into a bridal hold. The crowd cleared quickly for him, as he carried your limp body to the infirmary, Mohawk and Killer following close behind. Killer didn’t know what to do, staring down at the tiny thing he could have held with one hand, but cradled carefully in both arms. His son, lifeless, not fated for this cruel world. He was shaking, and Kid guided him to sit. Neither of them spoke a word as Mohawk cursed and worked on you. Bloodied rag after rag were dumped on the floor as he tried and failed to stop the bleeding.

You didn’t wake for another day, the all too familiar sight of an IV in your arm, connected to a depleted blood bag. Your abdomen ached and when you touched the sore area you could feel a bandage covering it. Kid was at your side, watching you carefully as you groaned and sat up. Behind him you could see the flowing blond mane of Killer’s hair, his back to you as he sat in front of the other cot in the infirmary. His mask was on, and he made no sign of moving at the sound of your waking groan, save for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. You could have mistaken him for being asleep, if not for the fact he was sitting straight up.

Heat adjusted the pillows behind you to help you sit up, you hadn’t even noticed him quietly standing there. Kid squeezed the hand he’d been holding before standing and walking to Killer. He whispered something in Killer’s ear, but the blond still didn’t move. Sighing, he tried to take what was in front of him, but Killer grabbed his wrist and growled.

“She deserves to hold them,” Kid said softly, “Kil please, you have to let go. Sitting here staring ain’t gonna do shit, she needs you now. She's alive and she's awake and she needs you”

Killer stood and left the room, not even sparing a glance in your direction, the door swinging on its hinges behind him. Kid took what was on the cot and brought it over, carrying it like it was glass, gently placing it in your arms. Your baby was entirely wrapped up, and he moved the cloth covering its face for you. Tears rolled down your cheeks as Heat held you tight.

“I’m sorry Yin, there was nothing anyone could do,” Kid sighed. “Mohawk said he was too small, his lungs weren’t functioning yet. Even in a hospital they wouldn’t have been able to save him”

You stroked the baby’s cold face before covering them back up and holding them out for Kid to take. You couldn't bare to look at the tiny body any longer, it hurt too much. He took the baby and placed him back on the other cot, returning to your side. You felt empty, devoid of emotion, you didn’t know what to do or how to feel. All you could feel was heartache.

“He blames me, doesn’t he?” you whispered.

“I’m gonna go get the doc,” Kid sighed, avoiding your question. You let out a sob as he left, the avoidance was answer in itself.

“Shh, shh, I’m still here,” Heat cooed, climbing onto the bed and laying beside you. You buried your face in his chest.

“It’s my fault Heat,” you sobbed, “he told me not to fight and I didn’t listen, I did this, I killed our baby”

“You didn’t,” Heat assured, squeezing you as much as he could without hurting your injury, “A marine did this, not you. It just… wasn’t meant to be”

“I’ll give him another, I’ll do better next time,” you sobbed, “please tell him, please, I need him to forgive me”

“Yin, there won’t be a next time,” Heat sighed. You sat up and blinked at him, your hand going to your stomach.

“There was too much bleeding,” Mohawk explained as he entered, having heard the end of the conversation, “I couldn’t stop it. I had to… I had to remove the whole thing. I’m so sorry Yin”

“YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME DIE!” You shouted, becoming light headed and swooning. Heat caught you and laid you back down flat.

“Don't overdo it, you lost a lot of blood,” Mohawk sighed, “what happened to your body was physically traumatic, it tore your insides. If I was a better doctor I might have been able to save it, but this far from land it was either remove your whole womb or let you die. Kid gave the order, none of us wanted you to die. I know you're hurting right now, but you have friends here, we're here for you”

He injected something into your IV and the dizziness faded a little, and you grappled at Heat's corset to try and sit back up. “Just stay down for now Yin,” he soothed, “I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere”

Two days later and the ship made landfall, and you were immediately carted off to the nearest hospital. The others planned to bury your baby, you didn't want to be there. They said they'd wait till you got out of the hospital, but you told them to go ahead without you. You couldn't bear the thought of watching the tiny person you'd been growing as they were lowered into the ground and covered with dirt, it felt suffocating to just think about. You'd been immediately taken in for surgery, the remainder of your reproductive system removed before necrosis could set in. By now your breasts were actively leaking milk, your body tricked into thinking that your baby had been born and needed nourishment. The nurses bound your chest and it ached as your breasts swelled with milk that only served to remind you of your failings. Every time a baby on the maternity floor cried, your breasts leaked and the nurses would have to change your wet bindings as you sobbed.

Heat was by your side as much as he could be, but since he wasn't family or the father of a currently alive baby, he wasn't allowed to stay overnight. Those extra cots and private rooms were reserved for new mothers with babies to care for, leaving you in a four person room with other emotionally devoid women who had lost their babies as well. Every little step you took hurt like you were being torn open again, but the nurses insisted you keep active.

On the third night after losing your baby, you were walking along the hall of the maternity floor, and a happy couple passed by you on their way from the labour and delivery ward, the woman holding a healthy full term baby in her arms as she was pushed along in her wheelchair by her doting partner. Every nurse and doctor they passed were congratulating them, and you couldn't do it anymore. You could be here, you couldn't keep feeling your breasts leak while the healthy babies of other mother's cried out, you couldn't take the barren emptiness in your stomach. You would have done anything to see Killer, you needed him so badly, but he hadn't even looked at you as Heat carried you from the ship. Did Heat even want you anymore? He was so enamoured with your rounded belly, did he want you if you couldn't give him a baby? It felt like that was all you were good for, but you'd failed even at that. Pathetic, useless Yin, thrown away yet again when you proved yourself to be worthless.

Before anyone could stop you, you started power walking, navigating the labyrinth of the hospital till you finally came to an exit. Wearing only the comfortable shirt Heat had brought for you to sleep in, you ran. You didn't know where you were going, only having seen one small part of the island as you were carried to the hospital, but you ran anyway, hoping something would guide you and you'd find what you needed, an answer for your anguish.

Over gravel roads, dirt trails through forests, thin mudbanked streams and dewy meadows, you ran till you couldn't anymore. There was nowhere left to run, the island coming to an abrupt end as the meadow gave way to a harsh drop. An answer to your prayer, to your pain. Relief from it all, relief from the unbearable sadness that racked through you and shook you with silent sobs. Just one step, that was all it would take.

And so, the sky turning to a pale green on the horizon and the fading stars twinkling above you, you stepped forward.

[NEXT CHAPTER] - link soon

[agentrouka-blog]

I feel like this is kind of a dumb question, but what do you think about the term ‘Strong female character’?

Is it bad when female characters are presented (maybe not all the time but mostly) as ‘helpless’ or ‘weak’ or a ‘damsel in distress,’ and it takes a lot of time for them to develop and change and be more capable than they were before? Or just that they’re presented like that at all?

I don’t even know what I’m trying to ask here cause it’s really hard for me to word my thoughts but I’ve just been seeing a whole lot of videos where people are saying they’re tired of female characters that are weak and helpless and cry easily and can’t stand up for themselves, can’t save themselves, can’t do anything useful, etc.

It just makes me really emotional especially when it’s my favorite characters that are being criticized for this.

But, yeah, sorry for this nonsense 😭.

What Strong Female Character should mean: well written in a way that centers their own development instead of existing only to serve the story of male characters. Consistent within themselves. Equally complex to male characters, with equal standards applied to any shades of grey. A character who carries their own compelling story, whatever that may be. This can apply to female villains, female characters who are victimised and allowed to exist within and develop within their own victimization, female characters who are wrong and make mistakes, female characters who are active, female characters who are passive, characters who are doomed to tragedy, classic female heroeines, unconventional female heroines. It's about how the character exists within a story.

How it's often used instead: Girlboss who enables a power fantasy.

A character who is victimized and exists only to scream "Hero, help me!" to motivate another character and has no discernible personality or motivation or skills or development outside what is presented in the context of another character's interest, is not a strong female character and often justifiably frustrating to witness.

But so would be a quip-slinging, axe-wielding warrior woman who only exists so The Hero can look progressive because he Treats Her With Respect while we learn absolutely nothing about her inner life.

A character who is victimized and presents their own experience within the narrative, how it affects and perhaps changes them, can very much be a strong , i.e. a well written and complex character who is also a female character.

Say, if someone claims that Sansa is not a strong female character because she cries sometimes, they aren't looking for strong writing, they are just uncomfortable with writing that explores vulnerability.

If someone claims that, say, Val is a strong female character because Jon calls her strong that one time, they aren't looking for strong writing, they are projecting onto a blank surface the author has deliberately kept devoid of complexity to reveal the prejudices and desires of a male character.

But that's just my opinion.

[sgiandubh]

Why are you upset the other side reads you? You are reading them as well and writing about what they are saying quite frequently.

Dear ROFL Anon,

Why would I be upset about a given of group dynamics? Nah, you are either naive or a minion. First of all, I am not 'upset', I am honestly perplexed: I knew she was as vile as it gets, but I always thought she was not a fool. This childish mistake speaks volumes about the recent state of play in this fandom. For it is usually when they are losing it, that intelligent people start doing things like that.

It's not about her reading me, it is about her denying she does so. It is about her copying me (gifs, suddenly using LinkedIn info, music, writing mannerisms : 'fun fact', etc) and now copying my Anons in order to remain relevant and 'informed'. But at the same time insulting me every time she or her BFF have an opportunity. I don't know who you are, what you do for a living and where you live (I honestly do not care), but I hope your culture despises hypocrisy, plagiarism and imposture, too.

So long for neutrality. She is about as neutral as Turkmenistan, Anon. A liar and a thief.

[tartagliawill0ws]

I've seen people say that Muu doesn't care for Haruka, and that line of thought has always confused me. It's probably because of that whole "slave and queen" line, but still. Muu wouldn't be trying to keep him fed, or giving him her things, or telling him to leave, if she didn't care.

Muu: Haruka-kun, I brought your food. Are you still alive? Has any mould started growing?

Haruka: ……ah, thank you very much.Mu-san. Sorry, um…… I……

Muu: You shouldn’t just lock yourself in your room all day. You have to eat your food properly. Hm, well…… I do understand why you’re feeling down. It feels bad. The atmosphere recently

Bringing him food and saying he should leave.

Muu: You mean Haruka-kun? Hmm. Yeah, probably. I’ve been bringing all his meals to him so he should be fine. Isn’t that great of me?

Talking about how she brought him food.

Maybe it's because of how she didn't try to interfere with Haruka's plans to commit? But then again her attitude about it is.... Weird.

Muu: Yeah. Haruka-kun told me. So I could rest easy, according to him. That made me happy… It made me really feel our friendship!

Es: You know about it and you're not trying to stop him? Haruka, that is?

Muu: Why would I? Haruka-kun says he wants to do it, so there's nothing I can do, right?

And,

Muu: Isn't it exactly because he's my friend? Isn't friendship about letting your friends do the things they want?

But, like, while people seem to take this as her taking advantage of Haruka that's... Not what it is? It's Muu having a deeply messed up veiw of friendship, and her veiw of what it means to commit in this context is to assure her of their friendship.

This, this here, her messed up veiw of friendship, is what the problem probably is. People mistake this strange way of interacting with someone she cares about as proof she does not care. Also, Muu sees friendship in a favours-for-favours sort of way, she gives things to those she wants to prove she likes and we can see in It's Not My Fault that she also expects something, be it devotion or something literal.

Exploitation…? Um, I don't really understand, but…I do help him pick out clothes in return, and I recently gave him a hairpin I didn't need anymore as a hand-me-down!

Favours-for-favours. In return for his devotion, she gives him her things; and helps him pick clothes; she seems to be helping him learn to write; he wears shoes that need to be tied, indicating she's also trying to teach him that. She marks her friendships by what they can give, and to some degree marks her own worth by what she can give.

Rather than using each other for something, we just get along because we're comfortable around each other. That's all.

Mhm, yeah, that's totally why we constantly see your friendships marked with favours and gifts and not typically hangouts (apart from the bullying).

[ever-eilish]

Hii! Can you write a fic for billie eilish? Fem reader is scared of the dark and Billie cuddles us in bed to make us feel safe.

Scary

billie eilish x fem! reader

you are forced to face your fears, not meaning you have to do it alone

author's notes: this one is very sweet! i really enjoyed writing this, so I hope everyone likes it as well; thank you so much for your request, sorry it this is not what you wanted! once again, english is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes! enjoy💕

warnings: reader has a panic attack, but I did not write much about it; overall is very sweet and pure fluff!

You don't know exactly when it started. You don't exactly remember being a scared child, or fearing the dark as much as you do now.

The only thing you know is that, after a certain age, night lights become increasingly useless in comforting you, and what started as 'just a night' of sleeping with all the lights on, has become a habit.

You knew that at some point in your life you would have to overcome this irrational fear of the dark, but you just felt like the time wasn't now.

The lights were on, obviously, as night fell behind your window on the right side of your queen-sized bed, and Billie was on your left side, her head resting on your chest, legs tangled together, as she did something on her cell phone, while you were just staring at the dull, white ceiling, while thinking about absolutely nothing, just enjoying the company of your beautiful girlfriend.

We should buy something to decorate this ceiling, you made a mental note, this being your first coherent thought in a few minutes.

Just as you were about to go back into the sea of ​​'thinking about nothing' while staring at the ceiling like a maniac, Billie's voice fills the room.

"Darling, did you know that penguins-" her speech is cut off when a large thunderclap hits the ground, making a huge sound throughout the house.

Before you could even process what was happening, the lights went out and everything went silent.

Your breathing hitches, your fear of the dark showing as you quickly begin to hyperventilate.

Damn, why did this have to happen right in front of Billie?

Despite not wanting to have a meltdown in front of your girlfriend of a few months, your brain quickly starts to go haywire due to the lack of light.

Billie quickly realizes what was going on, and although it's not a frequent topic in your conversations, she remembers having already heard you mention your 'irrational' fear of the dark, so in one swift movement, Billie lifts her head from her chest and sits down, pulling you to sit on her lap in a way that both of your legs were to one side and your body to the other.

"My love, breathe with me" Billie says, and begins to breathe slowly, hoping you will follow her example.

"I'm fine, it's just-" you are cut off by Billie placing a loving peck on your lips.

"Just breathe with me, okay?" she says, and you decide to follow what she says.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, and you could already feel yourself getting better, your breathing stabilizing and your fears calming as Billie rocked you back and forth in a calming motion.

"Feeling better?" she asks, her voice small and, although you can't see her face because of the dark, you could almost feel her big smile on her face.

"Yes" you answer almost in a whisper, partly because you're embarrassed for having a small panic attack in front of your girlfriend. Billie noticed your discomfort quickly and hugged you tighter.

"You have nothing to worry about, princess" she says "I love you and I want to see you well"

Even though both of you had already said 'I love you', hearing her say it so naturally still sends goosebumps and butterflies in your stomach, in the best way possible.

Suddenly, the dark didn't seem so scary anymore.

“I love you too,” you say, laying your head on Billie’s chest.

Maybe you could even get used to the dark, if it meant you had Billie to comfort you every time.