#and two quite frankly i think shes a bitch who should not be having any more children

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

would it like. kill my mother to have safe sex or smth. like is she allergic to condoms and birth control

[listofwhyyouloveher]

PLEASE DO PART 3 of GANG CRUSHING ON YOU ITS SOOO GOOD

Summary: Part 3 of the gang crushin' on you Warnings: none Author's Note: running low on ideas for this one, what plotline should it follow? Quite frankly, the news of the Curtis gang all having a crush on you ruined your life. You couldn't go anywhere without seeing one of them and remembering. Every where people were talking about it, gossiping about you, asking who you were going to choose, making all these crazy shit stories up about you and the gang. It was really getting on your nerves. You were chilling at the drive in with the same friend who told you about this 'life-changing news'. She sipping her coke when she turned to you, doe eyes feigning innocence. "So, Y/n," She started, slowly at first as if she was easing you into the conversation. "Yes?" You asked, brow quirked in knowing confusion. "All this talk about the gang like you and all got me wondering," You sighed, turning back to the movie. "Wait, let me finish!" She said, grabbing you by the cloth of your sweater. "Look, I'm really sick of all this talk!" You said, folding your arms, "I mean, just think about what I have to deal with. What if it this destroys their friendship?" You chewed at your nails anxiously. "Ok, Y/n thats worst case scenario. But just think, don't you have any feelings for at least one of them?" She asked, stressing the idea. "You're nuts" You scoff. "Oh don't play innocent," She nudged you, giggling. You smiled shyly. "Sure, they're pretty cute, but I know better than to go for a situation like that." She nodded along but intuerrupted before you could go in depth. "Ok but this is a hypothetical! You get no consequences, which one do you chose?" She smirked. You thought it over. "Well, I don't know. Ponyboy's so intelligent that it's amazing, Johnny has got the cutest baby face, Sodapop's just a doll, Steve's free and fun, Two can make me laugh like a hyena, Darry's built and caring, and Dallas..well it's Dallas, even if you hate him you secretly like him for god knows what," You rambled, clearly not chosing one. "Oh my god, I am so telling them you said this," Your friend joked. "You're such a bitch" You laughed.

[usernameforaboredcat]

Wasn’t Fated To Succeed

{Spy Ace X Marine Reader}

(I thought of this idea from a manga side story where Ace breaks into a Marine headquarters and fucks around n thought “hey, I can make sum angst with this shit🤷🏻‍♀️” so tehe like look at him!!

He’s such a silly goofy guy I love this mf so much!! Anyway-

Warnings⚠️: Angst, very sad angst, smut, p in v, virginity loss, use of nicknames "princess" "sweetheart" "good girl" ect, fingering, groping, very very slow burn, like this might take a while to read, death, daddy isn’t the best lol

It didn’t take long for him to notice her.

Who?

That young woman maybe a year or two younger than him, sitting at the large table, leaning comfortably in her chair with her arms and legs crossed with an annoyed and tired scowl on her face. Whist on his infiltration mission, Ace got dragged into a Marine meeting. He was more in the back, hiding himself to stay unnoticed while listening in.

Something about her was trying to telling him something he couldn’t hear, and he was trying desperately to make out what it was. To be fair he had been listening to everything, making as many mental notes as possible.

“What about that Straw Hat kid?!”. His ears perked up. “That punk has caused enough trouble as is!”. A loud disgusted “uhg” echoes through the room, drawing all eyes to that girl. She’s wearing a white low cut sailor dress with a beautiful pink flower in her hair. “Is there something you’d like to say?”. She gets asked, the man talking in an angry tone. “First of all I don’t quite appreciate that tone of yours when talking to me”. She starts, her eyes like daggers.

Ace felt a shiver run down his spine, her cold tone freezing the temperature of the whole room. “And second I don’t think that child should be a problem of ours”. She leans forward in her seat, propping her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her laces together fingers. “He is a child, gentlemen. Us marines should be adult enough to not get too affected by him”. She finishes. “But miss! Haven’t you heard all the trouble he’s started! Lougetown! Alabasta! Water 7!?”. A man yells.

The girl rolls her eyes dramatically at his words. “Please, I quite frankly think we have much higher risks and problems than him! And even if we did follow through with his antics and arrest him, what exactly do we do? There’s no laws regarding child pirates so what? Do we execute a child? Just like how if a grown ass man committed theft we just give him a smack on the ass like a child who stole a cookie from grandmas kitchen?”. She questions.

The room goes silent, no one knowing how to respond or even daring to respond. Something switched in Aces mind, something that felt weird and funny and new. Seeing such a ice cold girl with a burning fire of true justice set his heart ablaze. She wasn’t wrong, there aren’t any laws about punishment for pirates under the age of 18. He couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle.

The girl stands up from her seat, resting her hand on her hip. “Now, personally I think we have more important things to deal with at the moment! Send a team out on a patrol of the city and see if there are actual problems we should take care of, report them back to me by the end of the day”. She explains as she starts to make her way to the door. “And if I find out that there’s been an incident that hasn’t been reported to me I’ll make sure to serve you at the next hot pot in the hot pot”. She threatens, then exits the room.

The room bursts into whispers and murmurs. The room started to clear out, the meeting ending basic after the girl had left. As Ace starts to make his way out, he hears whispers about her. “I don’t get why she’s here”. “Bitch really think she’s the boss of us”. “Hey! Don’t say that!”. “Why? Scared her daddy will kill you?”. “Yes!”. So her dad has a lot of power in the Marines then. Interesting.

The room had emptied, the halls slowly emptying with people heading off to their jobs. With not real job, Ace scrambles down the hall and walks into a random room. He sighs as he closes the door, the click of a sword being unsheathed makes him freeze. ‘Oh fuck’. He slowly turns around, seeing the girl from before standing behind her desk holding her swords handle in her dominant hand ready to pull out. “You’re not supposed to be in here”. She tells him. “Why are you here? And what’s your rank?”. She asks him.

He straightens up and chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “I just wanted to say that what you said back there was cool! A real sense of justice, I’ve never seen something like that from a marine”. He admits to her. “I see”. She mutters. She clicks her sword back into place and makes her way over to the little kitchen in the office, opening a cupboard. “Care for a coffee?”. She asks without looking at him. “No thanks, not a fan of bitter stuff”. He answers.

She nods. “Very well”. She only takes out one mug. “Tell me, are you new to the marines? With your wording ‘I’ve never seen something like that from a marine’ implies that you haven’t seen a lot of marines talk or any meetings”. She explains as she puts coffee grounds and sugar in her mug. “Yep! I haven’t been here too long!”. He answers. Technically he’s not wrong. “Tell me then, how are you finding the marines?”. She asks. “Definitely not annoying and sick of people telling me what to do”. He explains in a chuckle.

She lets out a small chuckle as she fills her mug with milk. “I can’t imagine having to listen to marine would be easy for someone like you”. She states as she stirs the milk. “Especially for someone like you, Fire Fist Ace”. She adds. Aces eyes widen, but he gets back his cool demeanour and tilts his marine cap up as if it’s his classic hat, his finger alit. “Guess it was only a matter of time before someone figured me out”. He chuckles.

She lets out a chuckle again, walking over to the kettle. “It only took me a second. Unlike my colleagues I’m good with faces. As soon as you walked in I was able to recognise your face”. She explains as she fills up the kettle with water and set it on the stove. “However I do not wish to report you or arrest you”. She adds. She tries to turn the stove on, but it’s refuses to turn on.

She lets out an annoyed sigh, turning back to the pirate. “Mind giving me a hand?”. She asks, her voice in a more softer tone. “Uh…sure!”. He agrees happily, walking over to her. He places his hand on the kettle and sets his hand on fire, the kettle slowly starting to boil. “So…how come you’re not gonna report or arrest me?”. He asks her. “Because I hate the marines”. She blatantly states.

The kettle quickly starts to whistle causing Ace to move his hand away, the girl grabbing the kettle by the handle and filling up her mug. “I’ve always hated the marines”. She walks towards her desk, taking a seat. She gestures him to take a seat in the chair across from her, which he does. “Ever since a young age we’re all taught the black and white of marines good and pirates bad, however those with a brain can tell you that it’s mixed. I’m only young but I’ve seen good pirates and bad marines”. She explains.

She leans back in her seat and takes a sip of her drink. “For example…That Straw Hat Luffy”. Aces eyes widened. “I had been keeping an eye of what’s been happening in Alabasta for a few months now but because of our affiliations with Sir Crocodile the marines never did a thing. I felt terrible, for the king, Princess Vivi, and their people! I honestly thought that Sir Crocodile was going to distort that poor country, until I heard that Straw Hat arrived and was able to take care of it. I’m honestly surprised someone just a year younger than me was able to take him down, colour me impressed”. She explains.

Ace let’s out a chuckle as he leans back in his chair, arms propped behind his head. “That’s my little brother for ya! He’s full of surprises!”. He laughs loudly. “You’re joking! You and Straw Hat are brothers?!”. She yells out in shock, almost dropping her cup. “Nope, Luffy’s my baby brother”. He confirms. “Hm, you learn something new everyday I guess”. She mutters. “So if you hate marines so much, why become one?”. Ace asks her. “Because like hell I’d let the corrupted marines stay in power and continue to ruin the world government. I’m just waiting for the day the head admirals kick the bucket and I’ll take over! With them gone, I’ll finally be able to fix this twisted government up”. She explains to him.

“Now it’s my turn to ask a question”. She sets her coffee mug down on the table, crossing her legs and setting her hands down on her knee. “Why are you here?”. She asks. “Simple! I’m here to gather information, is there anything else to it?”. He responds. “Well if that’s the case”. She takes a key out her pocket, opening a filing draw at her desk. She grabs a note pad and a pen, sliding it over to Ace. “What would you like to know?”. She asks him with a growing smirk, Ace smirking and chuckling in response as he takes the note pad. “Whatever you know”.

~

Ace had been around the marine base for over a week now, working as a small team with a very powerful woman in the marine world. (Y/n). That’s the name she told him, he trusts that it’s her real name and not a name she’s giving him just to play with him. They where a team of people from two worlds. Ace had thought she would have outed him by now, but instead she’d always vouch for him if he was ever in trouble and let him sleep in her office. In his eyes she’s truely an amazing person.

~

The room was quiet, the faint light of a candle lighting up the desk enough for the woman to work. She lets out a sigh as she finishes reading the last of the reports, crossing her arms and laying them on the desk to use them as a pillow. The door to her office opens without a knock, she knows who it is. “Hey hey! There’s my favourite marine!”. She giggles to herself and she looks up, seeing Ace closing the door behind himself. “Evening Ace, how was your day?”. She ask him in a soft tired tone. “Ah ya know! Pretty good! Almost got my ass beat today but I in fact was the one who did the beating!”. He says proudly as he walks over and takes a seat across from her.

“I wouldn’t recommend drawing too much attention to yourself”. She says as she look up at him. “I’ll be fine! I have you!”. He responds. She smiles to herself, tilting her head. “I can only do so much you know, have you forgotten the kind of number that’s on your head?”. She tells him, then letting out a yawn. “Hm? You okay?”. He asks her. “Yes yes, just tired from work is all”. She explains. “You want me to leave and let you rest?”. He asks her, concern in his voice. “No no no, it’s good that you’re here. It’s better when you’re here, I feel like I don’t have a stick up my ass”. She explains to him, laying her head back down.

“Aawww, you chill out around me! Aren’t you cuuuuuute”. He coos at her, heat rising to his face. “I mean you’re not a marine, I don’t have to try to impress you”. She admits in a soft tone, looking back up at Ace for him to see her reddening cheeks. “I wish you never have to leave”. She adds, smiling up at him. “It has been fun, but if I stay here any longer it might start to cause you trouble”. He adds to her statement.

“Hey, how about tonight we drink? To a better future!”. He suggests to her. She hums, smiling at the idea. “That sounds quite nice, I approve”. She agrees. “Actually-“. She gets up from her chair, walking over to the fridge and taking out a bottle of fancy expensive alcohol. “I’ve had this since my 18th birthday and I thought now would be a good time to use it”. She explains, grabbing two glass cups. “Wow! Pulling out that good stuff! Very nice very nice”. He responds, his hand on his chin as he rubs it.

“Only the best…for me!”. (Y/n) says happily as she grabs glasses, shrugging. She walks back over to her desk, popping open the bottle and pouring the liquid into the glasses. She takes a seat, the two taking a glass each. “Well, even with this funny predicament…I’ve enjoyed our time together”. (Y/n) admits, swirling the drink then taking a sip. “Why not come with me?”. Ace suddenly asks. (Y/n) looks at him wide eyed. “What?”. She asks simply. “Leave the marines, come join the White Beard Pirates with me! The old man would love ya, take ya in as if you where his own daughter”. He explains to her.

She continues to look at him in shock, then turning to look away from him. “Ace I-… I can’t just leave the marines! It’s all I know, it’s what I’ve grown up with. Besides, if I left the marines to become a pirate my father would for sure kill me”. She explains, the thought of death sending a shiver down her spine. “By the way, who is your father?”. He asks. “He’s a…an Admiral”. She answers, refusing to look at him. “Damn! No wonder everyone is so shit scared of you!”. Ace yelps, almost spitting out his drink.

“Hey! Don’t spit that out! It’s expensive!”. (Y/n) snapped at him. “You never told me that your dad was a fucking Admiral!”. He snaps back. (Y/n) scoffs and rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You wouldn’t know what it’s like to have a father like that, especially a father that kills the innocent despite being a “man of justice”, yeah justice my ass”. She mutters, chugging the rest of the drink. “I’m guessing you don’t know my father then”. Ace chuckles. “Hey, I have a lot of people to do background checks on and to keep track of!”. She defends. Ace let’s out another chuckle, chugging down the rest of his drink. “Ever heard of Gol. D. Roger?”. He asks. “Okay now you’re fucking with me! No way your father is the King of Pirates like 20 years ago!”. She snaps. “Yeah…”. He mutters out. (Y/n) leans over and refills both of their glasses up.

“So tell me lil Roger Jr. What do you think about him?”. She asks, taking a sip of her refilled drink. “I don’t really care, I don’t see him as my father anyway! White Beard is my father and always will be”. He answers. (Y/n) smiles softly as she looks at the older man. “That’s cute”. She admits. “What about you? What do you think about your old man?”. He then asks her. “Ah. I don’t know, he treats me like his own personal army toy. He raised me to be a marine and I never really got to have a life. No friends, no other family, no hobbies, no nothing to me! I never wanted to be a marine or even a pirate, I’d rather just be a normal girl”. She goes on. She sees Ace looking at her with a soft smile, causing her to take another sip of her drink to hide her plush.

“I didn’t mean to go on”. She apologises. “No no no, it’s fine”. Ace reassures her. “I just…never really had the chance to talk to anyone like that”. She hums. “Oh Ace, you have no idea how badly I wish I could go with you. Travel the world, find who I am as a person, meet people of all different…well…everything!”. She rants. “But…I’m stuck here”. She chugs her drink again, quick to fill it up again. “Come on kid, you’re drinking a little too much”. Ace states, getting up from his chair and walks over to take her drink from her. “I’m not a kid! Don’t you dare call me that!”. She snaps, quickly chugging the drink before it can be taken away.

“Maybe we should get you to bed”. Ace says, taking the glass from her and placing it on her desk. “I’m fine, okay? I don’t need you to baby me like everyone else!”. She snaps, looking up at him. He chuckles down at her, amused by her cranky face. He reaches and grabs her chin with his thumb and pointer finger. Without thinking, he leans down and presses his lips against hers. Regret immediately flows through him, but it instantly vanishes when he feels her hands on his cheeks to pull him closer.

He could taste the alcohol on her lips, tasting it more when she opens her mouth to let him slide his tongue in. He pulls away from her, looking down at her to see her big pleading begging eyes and kiss puffy lips. “For a marine you’re absolutely beautiful”. He whispers just loud enough for her to hear. “For a pirate you’re incredibly handsome”. She whispers back loudly. This time, she leans up and kisses him. She pulls him closer by wrapping her arms around his neck, Ace leaning over and easily picking her up to wrap her legs around his waist.

He sits down in her chair, letting the younger girl sit on his lap. She pulls away from Ace, the two panting of the lack of air. Fire, want, and need builds up in their bodies, (Y/n) slowly starting to grind herself over Aces growing length. He chuckles at her neediness, rubbing her hips up and down. “Never in my life would I ever think I’d see a marine be so needy for a pirate”. He chuckles as his hands travel to her thighs and going over her dress.

He uses one hand to move her panties aside and the other running a finger through her wet folds. “Ah! Ace~”. She moans out, grinding against his hand. “Jeez you’re so wet already, it makes me want to take you here and now”. He teases. “Then why don’t you?”. She asks in a giggle, running her hand down his chest to his hardened bulge and rubbing it through his pants. Ace hisses at her actions, causing (Y/n) to giggle as she leans in close to his ear. “Although I’d rather be the one to take you~”. She whispers into his ear, then kissing his ear lobe.

“God!”. Ace let’s out in a loud groan. He grabs her chin again with his spare hand and grabs her chin, pulling her in closer. (Y/n) moans into the kiss, letting out a cry of pleasure as she feels him slide two finger inside her warm wet entrance. She pulls away and whimpers at the new slightly painful feeling, her legs shaking as he slowly drags his fingers in and out. “I just realized…you’re a virgin”. Ace states. “Oh shut up”. She gasps, slamming her lips back on his. Ace picks up the speed of his fingers, using his thumb to rub against her clit.

He pulls away from the kiss, moving his hand from her chin to the low cut neck of her dress. He smirks as he pulls the dress neck down, her boobs sliding out from the motion. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t at least wanna cop one feel of her tits while here. He aggressively grabs her breast and squeezes it, pulling and pinching on the nipple. “A-! Aaaaaace~ please!”. She cries out, needing something more. “Pleeeeease let me feel you inside me!”. She begs. Ace smirks as he lets out a single chuckle, pulling his hands away from her as he goes down to his pants. With ease his undoes his belt buckle, belt and zipper, easily being able to hop with her on top for him to slide his pants and boxers down to his ankles.

(Y/n) feels a shiver go down her spine as she looks down at his erection. He’s so long and thick, probably the first time in her life she’s ever felt intimated. “What’s the matter? Scared?”. Ace chuckles, grabbing the base of his cock. “Quiet!”. She snaps. She puts her hands on his shoulders to use to keep herself stable. She lifts herself up and hovers over his cock, feeling his hot leaking tip against her entrance. “Take it slow princess~”. Ace coos her, his hands back on her hips and rubbing them to comfort her.

She sinks down on his cock, feeling his tip slide inside her aching hole. The aching feeling of need grows stronger and stronger, craving him to fill her up. Without thinking she sinks her whole body onto his cock, his tip slamming painful against her cervix. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”. She cries, feeling as if electricity shock through her body. “Sssshhhhhhit! Ah fuck me! Shit you’re tight”. Ace pants out as he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling his cock getting squeezed so tight inside her he could explode inside her already.

He opens his eyes but his vision isn’t the clearest, light headed from the feeling of her insides. He looks at the girl on his lap, seeing her still trying to catch her breath as tears run down her cheeks, a painful grip against his shoulders. He slowly starts to rock her hips, sliding her up and down on his length. Her cries turn onto moans, starting to move her hips on her own. “That’s it, good girl~”. Ace praises, rubbing circles on her hips over her dress.

(Y/n) picks up speed, smoothly bouncing up and down on the pirates cock. Ace happily leans back in the chair, his limit approaching fast at the feeling of her right pussy sucking him in and trying to milk his cock of every single drop of his cum. More. More. He grips her hips tight, getting a tight hold on her and pulling her up and down on him, using her as a toy. A very pretty, very off limits, very hey she’s literally your enemy, toy.

He can’t help but start thrusting his hips up into her as he slams her down, the two meeting half way as Ace oh so desperately tries to chase his fast growing high. He needs to cum. Specifically he needs to cum in this marines perfect tight pussy. A now strong believer in the idea of if he cums in her it’ll make all his dreams come true. Without warning and a hard slam he releases deep inside her, his hot seed filling up her insides. (Y/n) shutters at the feeling of his warmth.

She pants as she tries to get off of him, but Ace slams her back down, drawing a whimper from her when she whimpers. “I don’t think so”. He pants out. He moves his hands under her thighs, swiftly picking her up and laying her on her desk. Ace smirks as he looks down at the marine, seeing her breasts raise up and down with each breath, her pussy still stuffed with his cock as cum starts to leak out the sides. He reaches over and grabs the forgotten bottle of liquor, taking a massive chug of it till the last little remaining drops are gone.

He leans down with each of his hand on either side of her head, her hips trying to move to chase the aching need of release she still hadn’t gotten. “We’ll be here all night until morning, hope you like the shitty coffee they have here cuz you’ll need it”. He tells her as he slowly grabs her ankles and pushes them up to her chest. “A-Ace~”. She whimpers, feeling him so deep inside her he might just be inside her womb. “You’re in for a looooooong night sweetheart~”.

~

The wind was cold, giving a gentle touch every time to touched her face. There’re no clouds in the sky, just a blue ocean above and in front of her. The sound of ringing and feet pattering rush over to the young lady’s sitting spot, some marine in a much lower rank than her running towards her with a transponder snail. “Miss! Your father is calling!”. The man calls. She reaches out and answers it. “Hello father”. She greets him. “Hello (Y/n)”. He responds with his bored gruffed voice. “What is the pleasure I have for you to call me out of the blue?”. She asks. “I wanted to check in that you’ve arrived to the base safely”. He answers. “I’d prefer you’d be here but you made the mistake that lead not to”. He adds. Ah yes, a mistake. A living, growing “mistake”. She runs her free hand over her stomach, only a few month’s pregnant by this point. “I’m sure everything would go smoothly without me, besides I’m not really in the mood to see something like an execution”. She informs him. “Yes, I’m sure”. He agrees. “How long now?”. She asks. “8 hours until that Fire Fist is dead”. He answers.

(Y/n)s grip tightened, her hands shaking. “Mr Akainu! We have to go!”. A voice is heard in the background of the call. “These idiots need me, I’ll be leaving”. And without a goodbye, he hangs up. (Y/n) ends the call on her end, shooing away the marine. She takes a deep breath as she closes her eyes, feeling the soft breeze on her face. She starts to hum a random tune as she rubs her stomach, hot tears falling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, little one. I’m afraid your father won’t get to meet you”. She mutters under her breath. “Oh Ace, I’m sorry that this happened…I hope…I hope somehow that brother of yours saves you so I can see you again…and…and you to meet our little one…”.

~

The winds where fast, the breeze smelling like sea salt as music rode along the winds. “CAPTAIN!”. The crew pause their antics, looking towards the navigator. “MARINES APPROACHING!”. He yells. The Captain shoots to the head of the ship, sitting on the lions head. “Do we attack?”. The cyborg asks, getting ready to ready for an attack. “THEYRE WAVING A WHITE FLAG!”. The sniper informs them. “What do we do captain?”. The swordsman asks. Their captain looks at the oncoming ship, laughing. “This could be fun!”. He laughs.

The ship slowly gets closer, the two ships setting down their anchors. The pirates watch as the marines look over their ship to look at them. A young woman walks up to the side, a high ranking woman. Without a second thought she jumps down, easily landing on the ship. The woman is wrapped in a long white cloak, maintaining eye contact with their captain. “You’re Straw Hat Luffy, correct?”. She asks him. “Yeah? So what?”. He asks her. “There’s something I’d like to discuss, is there somewhere more private for us to talk?”. She asks. “Don’t worry, if you’re questioning my intentions your crew mates are free to join which I think you’d rather”. She adds. “Yeah sure, we can talk in the kitchen”. He answers.

He leads her to the kitchen and dining room of the ship, the crew following behind them. “So, what’s up?”. Luffy asks, taking a seat at his spot at the head of the table. “If I remember correctly your older brother was Fire Fist Ace, yes?”. She asks. Luffy shivers, looking at her with murder in his eyes. Why would a marine come to him asking about his brother NOW?! “Yeah, what about it?”. He asks. The woman smiles softly as she takes off her coat hanging around her shoulders, setting it on the table to reveal a sleeping toddler in her arms. A little girl, long black hair with freckles. She looks like… “I know Ace never got the chance to meet her, but I thought her uncle should at least know she exists”. The woman explains.

Luffy looks down at the girl wide eyes, his eyes softening as he looks at her. “Wh-what?”. He stutters out. “WHAT?!?!”. The other crew members yell out, causing the baby to stir and begin to wake up. She looks up at her mum, who sweetly looks at her. “Mama?”. She asks. The woman giggles as she points Luffy to her, the little girl turning to look at him with wide eyes. “Rouge, this is your uncle! You know that stretchy guy that grandpa yells about? Say hi”. She tells the little one. “Hi”. The little girl greets, giving a little wave. “Would you like to hold her?”. (Y/n) asks Luffy. He doesn’t answer, just taking the girl from her arms and holding her close to himself. The other crew members crowd around their captain, looking down at the girl with aws and coos.

“Aawww she’s so adorable!”.

“She’s so pretty!”.

“She sure does look a lot like her daddy”.

“Wow! You’re an uncle!

“Uncle Luffy!!”

(Y/n) takes a seat at the table as the Straw Hats coos and laugh at her daughter. “How old is she?”. Robin asks the mother. “She’s two”. She answers. “She’s so adorable! You and Ace really made the cutest baby I’ve ever seen”. Nami compliments, taking a seat next to the mother. “Thank you! A day doesn’t go by that she doesn’t remind me of her father”. She thanks. “Honestly with how much she looks like her dad I’m surprised there hasn’t been anything in the news about it”. Nami points out. “No one’s figured it out yet, which I’m hoping never happens. If anyone asks about her father I tell them it was a random I had a drunk hook up with at a hotel so I don’t know what he looks like”. She explains. “Hey Marine Lady”. Luffy calls, the mother turning to him. “Yes?”. She responds. “What’s your name?”. He asks. “It’s (Y/n)”. She answers. “And hers?”. He asks, referring to the girl in his arms. “I named her Rouge, after Aces mother”. She answers.

“Luffy, I have a request”. She then starts. “Yeah?”. He responds. “If something happens to me, weather I die in war or I get executed for birthing Aces child, no matter what if anything happens to me…please take care of her. Either she’ll get raised to be a marine soldier like I was or killed as well, I want her to live free and I know you and your friends will teach her the right things. I know you’d be an amazing uncle and teacher for her”. She explains to him. He smiles brightly and nods. “Of course!”. He says happily. His expression changes into a more serious one, but still with a smile.

“If anything happens, I’ll make sure to protect and save her! I won’t make the same mistake again!”.

[streaminn]

Hmm.. Have you guys ever heard of the word bitching in an omegaverse context?

I was thinking of my scent blind au where enid so desperately wished she could've been an alpha so she would be right for wednesday during heaven and back

Content warning for straight up Addams obsession, delusional thoughts and Wednesday lowkey going to the deep end to make sure her and Enid get together even if it meant biologically changing herself

Bc yknow how Addams don't do things in halves, right? It's a whole fanon thing and I'm pretty sure there's signs of it in the show.

It starts like this, Enid is an alpha and Wednesday is a beta.

Simple facts, so very chill. They're still roommates, theyre older now and everything is OK

Except ever since Enid presented, having been a late bloomer like the show, she's been.. Different.

Wednesday isn't stupid, sure she may not have the safe rabid instincts as an omega or an alpha but she can smell well for a beta and she can see the way Enid's face will soften at any distressed omega nearby

It's irritatingly sweet, the way Enid would try to calm them down with her own scent. Except, since she's so new, she forgets how easily safety could equal something else

After the third time Enid has gotten accosted in the way to the dorm room, Wednesday quite frankly was irritated. She would love to stab those pesky students and go on her day but that meant showing that she was bothered

And Wednesday Addams wasn't bothered by anything, why should she? So what, her roommate is simply popular, it happens

Except, there's a part of her that feels wrong whenever she sees yoko drape herself over Divina. She eyes the way the omega would purr and how Divina would roll her eyes yet nose at her hair.

It's sickenly sweet

It's what her parents have it's what she wants with Enid

Being a beta in this au meant three things. One, you don't have an intoxicating scent and thus getting a mate is a tons more harder. Two, you're not built to take an alpha, it's a biological thing and three, the chances of getting a kid is all the more lower

Which is what most alphas would want

It's what Enid would want

So practically everything is against Wednesday. She can't entice Enid like most can do, she is literally not built for her and she knows of how Enid wishes for a family

Wednesday quite frankly isn't the type to wish for a family, quite aware of how troublesome it is but she's willing to change that for Enid

Anything for Enid, for the woman with nothing yet still tried to give her everything

Anything for her.

So, once again, it starts with the internet

Wednesday is ashamed, how far has she fallen to seek for reassurance that beta and alpha relationships could happen? Pretty badly, because when she scrolls and ignores the sobbing cries of beta's feeling inadequate in random blogs, she finds a reply to a rather sad post

It was a question of "pls guys, my alpha keeps looking at others instead of me. I know that I cant entice him like they can but surely there's smth I can do!?"

There were assurances in the replies, others saying that it's not the OP's fault that their alpha couldn't keep their nose to themself until one catches her eyes

It was a reply from a deleted user.

"have you ever thought of being bitched? You wouldn't fully be an omega but you'll pass as one to him and isn't that what matters in the end?"

The thoughts of other users below that were outraged. Whatever this bitching is, it's clearly taboo.

But those words.. "pass as one"

It's not the answer she wanted, but it's close enough.

It's enough to make Wednesday stay up and scour the internet all the more. She delved deeper into chat rooms, posing as an alpha with a kink because the more she went, the more she noted that whatever this is isn't normal at all. She couldn't come in regularly, else she risk losing actual good information

Bitching, from what she's seen, is the process of changing ones second status to an omega. Usually done against someone's will because who would want to willingly bitch themselves? Who would dare degrade themself into smth they weren't born too?

Me, Wednesday thinks as she notes it down. I would.

This is all she did for the next few days, staring at the pc and noting down as much as she could.

She got dragged out once or twice by a concerned Enid because ofcourse she did. The alpha has always been so caring, making sure to knock before cracking it open to ask if they'd like to eat together at the diner that just opened up

Wednesday agrees, she always does and so Wenclair set out. It's times like these where everything else fades away to nothing, status doesn't matter and it's imply just the two of them

Until the waiter comes in, all sly smiles and neck bared. Enid sniffs and Wednesday stops herself from stabbing her fork into the omega's throat when she sees those gorgeous blue eyes of enid's dilate

Don't look at anyone else, Wednesday wants to scream. You don't need them, I'm right here- But she can't do that, so she digs her nails into her palms as she slips into her thoughts

What happens in the diner is enough of a reminder that she needs to do this.

In the end of the weekend, Wednesday has finally concluded her research. The deleted user was right, she wouldn't be an omega but she sure will pass as one.

Her fertility will be the same but she can start producing the same addicting aroma and slick that entices all alpha's once she's done with the process

It sounds all well and dandy except it takes months to a whole year or two of constant dedication to get these results. It irates Wednesday but luckily, if the beta is reciprocating, the outcome is said to be all the more simpler, effective and overall efficient.

Wednesday couldn't stop a smile from growing as she eyes the last few words of her research.

if the beta in question was being bitched to the scent of one alpha in particular, then once the bitching was complete, both parties would become biologically attracted to one another’s scents and be driven to mate.

That was the confirmation wednesday needed, she would literally be made for Enid and Enid would have no choice but to realize it too once it was all over.

And finally, the best part:

all of the required steps could actually be accomplished without the alpha's participation or awareness

Good.

Anyways, degenerate Wednesday..? Love that, she can be such a creep and id like to build on it. If you wanna see more do send an ask! Aight thanks peace

Here's the continuation to this post where Wednesday gets what she wants

[lucawrites11]

re arsenal v city:

i am a die hard gooner til the day i die but will i be wearing a city shirt and cheering against my own team? yes. (i feel less guilt ab buying the shirt because it’s a roord 23/24 3rd shirt and it looks sick af)

anyways i hate chelsea and i want to see emma hayes trophyless. jonas and his fuckall tactics have screwed us all season, the girls deserve a rest and some need more minutes and so i want child labor fc in and emma hayes and chelshit out x

i totally agree especially on jonas' tactics and you mentioned the word tactics which is a mistake because now i am going to torture all of you with my unsolicited opinions of the formation that a fully fit arsenal should be playing or even a not fully fit arsenal and jonas is a fucking idiot for not doing it.... more under the cut because i don't need to torture you all with the long post analysing why exactly jonas' tactics are so shit

Jonas' tactics are the classis, basic bitch of all formations: 4-3-3 typically looking something like this... (a mock-up combining the last couple of seasons and what i'd think he might do with a fully fit squad)

and there are so many problems with this and most of them if not all of them stem from his too fatal tactical flaws: a chronic lack of rotation and refusal to give youth a chance in the squad, a stubborn-ness and bias towards english players, a clear bias towards his favourite players even when they aren't in form or fit and a complete and total refusal to play anything other than a 4-3-3.

(if you are wondering why russo + stina isn't working too well in the last few games it's because he's making them play it in a 4-3-3)

what do these problems cause?

a lack of rotation + his clear biases: over-worked players, unhappy players and INJURIES

this shows most in his clear centre back preference in the last few games being leah + lotte but that doesn't work too well. they are too similar as players but that is not a bad thing. it means it's perfect for rotations especially because leah williamson is quite injury prone. one game on, one game off for each of them. especially when they can pair up well with codina, catley, ilestedt in that centreback so the other option CAN ALSO BE ROTATED. which would REDUCE INJURY

again, this shows with his midfield choices. kyra is a central midfielder and a defensive midfielder but he decided she's just defensive. he has one ONE purely defensive midfielder and that's lia walti. kyra is more like kim little, can play any midfield position and then there are two purely attacking midfield options in pelova and maanum (who could play defensive if absolutely necessary) THEY ARE ALL GOOD ENOUGH TO FUCKING START BUT HE DOESN'T ROTATE then he uses them as super subs and expects them to fucking fix everything JUST START THEM. it would also again PREVENT INJURY. there is a reason kim and lia are constantly injured. THEY ARE OVER FUCKING PLAYED. JONAS CAN YOU HEAR ME!!! FUCKING ROTATE

again, in the nine. there are options: russo, blackstenius, miedema and foord can all play really well and quite frankly mead if forced also the kids: little viv and michelle can do that

then the wings. WHY DO YOU KEEP PLAYING FOORD WHEN SHE'S STRUGGLING lacasse was the best scorer at benfica for so long she was SO good. PLAY HER. ROTATE THE WINGS. i am honestly shocked caitlin hasn't had a more serious injury. foord, lacasse, mead, MCCABE and russo can all play the wings

the only thing i have no problem with is the full back choices

now the problem of the 4-3-3.

jonas has said on multilpe occasions that his tactics is playing a 4-3-3 and possession football because he is the most basic bitch on the planet. it's like he has never heard of fucking creativity. seriously someone get him some, IT'S KILLING ME also a fashion sense because i am still traumatised by the shit-coloured gilette under the blue suit 🤮🤮

anyway the actual problem with it. he uses it to force the world's best striker (miedema) out of position and into a 10 and then cries when they don't score. he has bought about five nines and only uses one with no decent 10 and cries when they don't score. maybe jonas YOU ARE THE FUCKING PROBLEM

i swear to fuck arsenal fire him and hire carla ward, i think she could do such a good job omg.

what formation doing i think a fully fit arsenal should play?

4-4-2 (with rotation)

goalkeeper:

rotate it (buy mearps) and then you have three starting goalkeepers you can rotate based of the game and the style of keeper needed. if you are playing a team that scores from set pieces and headers, you want manu. a game where you need a ball-playing keeper and you want sabs. if you buy mearps, she's best for a team that loves a quick counter or lots of shots in open play

centreback pairing:

no CB should play two matches in a row at arsenal unless there's an injury crisis because there is so much talent competing for that spot. the top four: williamson, wubben-moy, codina, ilestedt and then catley and katie reid can also do it in rotation if necessary and reid as a sub.

and unless there is an injury crisis, wubben-moy and williamson should NOT be on the pitch at the same time. they are too similar. i can't say what partnerships are best but a decent manager will find it out and create two amazing centreback parternships of lotte/leah and ilestedt/codina that can be used interchangably to rest players and prevent injury especially if there's uwcl

left back:

this should be a purchase priority for arsenal. a cheap third option as opposed to catley and the wildcard (mccabe) whose position can be chosen out of a hat and she'd still play it well. it's unreliable but strong atm with two good options that can rotate just in the case of injury, it's a lot on one player and we saw this at the start of the season

right back:

weinrother, fox, mccabe. the options are strong. no notes. just ROTATE THEM.

the midfield pairing:

so there just needs to be one more defensive midfielder and one more attacking midfielder. imo the best combo at the moment for me is little and walti. the experience and the talent is unmatched but THEY CAN ROTATE. i want to see a combo of pelova/maanum/cooney-cross as a secondary midfield pairing to switch out the matches like the centreback pairings to rest players. they would also be good sub options for each other and can be chosen based on the style of play of the oppostion. pelova, kyra, maanum are better when there is a need for speed or fast counter-attacking whereas little and walti would be better for a deeper defense but they could all do anything

the wings:

just rotate between lacasse, foord, mead and hurtig if she comes back and if not, buy another winger and play them in the rotation. at least one winger needs to be subbed in a game and imo none of them should start two games in a row so they can REST

the strikers:

in the nine, there is so much choice so why not play two? it literally makes so much sense especially when the pairings available work like they do.

russo + miedema would be the best. both can drop back and grab the ball interchangably and both know how to cross and finish. i would love to see that link-up develop

russo/miedema + stina, russo/miedema can drop back and stina can lead the line and BOOM goals. it's not hard JONAS

then you can also rotate with the kids. take notes from barcelona. they know how to win shit.

in conclusion, jonas is terrible. get him out. hire carla ward.

[happy-ramm]

Hi!

First of all: Thank you very much, I really appreciate all of your input on the current rammstein situation and I’d totally say I agree!

The situation is fucked.

I just want to add some of my thoughts about all of this, if that’s ok:

Let’s start with: I hate it here.

I hate what this debate does to the bigger image of the band: they are in the process of becoming a tool to express hate towards women and the general idea of feminism. There are misogynists, fans of this red pill ideology ‘defending’ Till by simply calling the women who came forward with allegations slurs. And there are fanaccounts sharing these videos like “go watch it, big recommendation” … you’re like ten seconds in and the dude in the video calls a woman “bitch”/“hoe” because he has ‘evidence’ that she might be lying? Shut up, Sherlock and maybe let some professional investigator do their job?

Who do they think they’re helping with that? It’s ridiculous, really embarrassing and not helpful at all imho.

This antifa-incident now also gives a lot of rather right winged people (Nazis lol) the opportunity to slide in the comment section of posts about it and spread hate of the political left as a whole and force their ideas of “the lefts being the new facists” on everyone. This connection is also very nice for all those journalists out there who love discussing rammstein as nazis! And also veeeery nice for the current political situation in Germany! much wow. I’m so done. (Also quick advice to all the activists out there: if you feel like vandalism, maybe rather write ‘no stage for Nazis’ on some buildings that are owned by ‘Alternative für Deutschland’?)

(These right winged accounts also really often show their homophobia - which I find quite ironic given the fact that rammstein eg waved pride flags in poland and their guitarists kissing on stage like every concert now but ok)

Id def consider myself somewhere on the spectrum of the political left and I also think that one can (and should) read rammsteins appearance in their political songs in this context.

My point being: there are now a lot of people interested in rammstein who seem to actually have nothing in common with their world view? It just makes me really uncomfortable and I hope that once this is over they’ll loose their interest in the band again.

I’ve been to three rammstein concerts and one of Lindemanns shows - until now everything was ok and we met some nice people. (Even tho the Lindemann Show was a rather weird, unique experience in general but that’s sth different) .. all in all I’d say my (female passing) friends and I were having a good time and everything was ok.

But with all of this, with the chance that the amount of these kinds of really bad people being interested in rammstein and as a result maybe also attending the concerts is growing - I might be afraid of going to another one (if there will be another tour?) and no, not because of Till Lindemann.

Sorry for the late repsonse Anon! I was moving house!

In general, though, I share a lot of your concerns. Situations such as this one are tricky because what is ultimately the dealings between two people and their own feelings/experiences of the matter gets submitted to the greater public for their judgement. Politics, laws, personal morals and agendas all get dumped in one big pot to boil over and eventually fester. It is all very confusing...and then out pops something nasty. In this case, the misogynistic right wing.

Frankly, I am not surprised that the right-wing has found a little nest within the Rammstein fandom. I do not say that because I believe Rammstein harbours any sympathies with that ideology - I like you firmly believe them to be a left-leaning band - but simply because people's media literacy skills are in general....ah, how to say this politely?....ah yes, they are fuckin' shit.

Rammstein is a band that rewards those willing to look deeper; those who love satire and those who simply have a good sense of humour. Unfortunately, they also appeal to those who really like when things go BANG.

Now, I also like when things go bang, don't get me wrong - pure sensation can never be underrated in terms of art. However, its a matter of aesthetics versus text. A reasonable person would conclude that these can't be separated: their interaction, whether it be complimentary or contrasting, creates the meaning. In the case of Rammstein, however, there exists a neat line, formed due to the language barrier between the band and the general audience.

This barrier has benefitted Rammstein - I believe they would not have gotten so far if their content was in English, for instance, but it means there are too many who only see "the picture".

The hardness. The hypermasculinity. The violence. The sexual imagery. The stoicism. The evocation of fascism. And all without the crucial framing of the lyrics.

Even when the satire should be self-evident, many miss the cue. Take Links 234 as an example: a song which functions as a politically rally for the left, specifically against the right, and was constructed in response to a reactionary media who sought controversy and not understanding, has ended up as a right-wing marching song in many minds.

It is very frustrating

Even more frustrating is deciding how to deal with this....

Argue with every idiot you see on the internet? Now, that's a Sisyphean task.

Leave the fandom altogether? Well, that feels like a different kind of defeat.

Realistically speaking, there is no silver bullet. One decides what is best for themselves. Personally, I feel no fear participating in the fandom as a queer AFAB person. Reality is different from the online spaces and I have never felt uncomfortable at their concerts, and when online, the block button is a blessing. I have no idea how this recent controversy is going to change the demographic of the Rammstein fandom, but I know I ain't going to fuckin budge to leave space for some Nazi twat. All I can say is, I hope this situation is resolved quickly, and I hope all Nazis die in a fuckin' fire.

That is all.

[ploppythespaceship]

Strange New Worlds (Season 2) - Thoughts & Review

I don't think I've been so mixed on a season of Star Trek as I am with this one. The things this show does well, it does extraordinarily well, and when it's on point, it's some excellent television. Unfortunately, the things this show does wrong are doing their damnedest to drag everything else down. Most of those issues stem from the fact that this is a prequel, and the things they're doing with established characters are really fighting against their original characterization. The individual episode quality is also wildly all over the place.

As a result, I can't come to any one conclusion. I liked some parts, I hated other parts, and it's all just a bit of a mess.

Spoilers under the cut.

What I Liked

The show is very well-produced. It looks great -- the production design continues to find a perfect balance between honoring the TOS look while updating and modernizing it -- it's well-directed, well-cast, etc.

Speaking of the cast, this is one of Trek's strongest group of actors. I particularly want to shout out Christina Chong as La'an -- I frankly didn't like her character much in season one, but she won me over this season, and that's largely due to the performance. Ethan Peck also did an excellent job, especially with some of the more comedic scenes.

Whoever decided that Carol Kane should play the ship's weird ass immortal engineer is a genius. Please give them a raise.

It was only a few scenes in the last episode, but I liked the guy playing Scotty. I was not expecting him to show up at all, but I couldn't stop grinning.

One of the advantages of being a more episodic series is the ability to easily explore many different tones and genres, and this season takes full advantage of that. One episode will be very silly and comedic, and the next will be a dramatic character study, and it just pings back and forth. I love that it has the freedom to explore that much variety.

What I Didn't Like

Spock and Chapel are the single worst thing about this season, and their relationship is definitely something I am going to pointedly ignore going forward. It makes sense to take their TOS dynamic and flesh it out more, but what the writers came up with makes both characters into the worst possible versions of themselves. Now Spock is canonically an adulterer, and someone who's chosen his emotionless affect because a woman broke his heart -- which uproots all of his characterization for the rest of the franchise. And Chapel just comes across as a bitch, particularly in the musical episode. I really hate that for her. It's deeply unfair to both characters.

I am sorry to say that I still don't care for Paul Wesley's Kirk. I appreciate what he's trying to do, playing more to Kirk's intellectual side, but there's a certain level of charm that's just not there. I think he's just miscast.

Number One continues to be incredibly boring, and the weakest link in the cast. I regularly forget that she exists and am surprised when she shows up.

Ortegas desperately needs a spotlight episode. She's the only main cast member who hasn't had any kind of focus or development, and she really sticks out as a result. The few tidbits of development she does get are repetitive -- she flies the ship, and she fought in the war. I know that her role was likely reduced this season due to the death of her partner, but they could have at least tried to add variety to the small moments she does get.

I love that this show is committed to the more old-school episodic style, which gives everything a more classic Trek feel. But with such a short season, I feel you need to be much pickier about which episodes you produce. The shorter seasons mean that bad or even underwhelming episodes have a much greater impact. If three episodes of a twenty-two episode season aren't up to par, that's easy to shrug off. But if it's three episodes of a ten episode season, that's two-thirds of your content. And this season unfortunately had quite a few episodes with major issues holding them back.

Individual Episode Thoughts

This season really does come down to its individual episodes, which as I mentioned are wildly all over the place.

The Broken Circle — This season did not get off on the right foot for me. This one wanted so badly to be the big, action-packed season opener, and everything about it felt incredibly forced as a result. Everything from Spock's abrupt decision to steal the Enterprise, to the threat of war that came from nowhere and was immediately forgotten about, to watching the medical characters take drugs and start beating the shit out of people... it all just felt off, and never clicked into place.

Ad Astra Per Aspera — Much better! This one should have been the season opener. It's a modern take on the classic Trek court episode, which immediately invites comparisons to some of the franchise's best. And while it doesn't live up to something like "The Measure of a Man" or "The Drumhead," it's still pretty solid. It has important things to say, and it says them well. It's simply held back by its resolution being complete nonsense. I understand that as a prequel, the writers can't fully resolve the augmentation debate without completely undermining future series. But I thought they'd find a more coherent loophole than "she requested asylum." She did not request asylum, that makes absolutely no sense, and it sort of makes things fall apart.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow — I loved the time travel plot, I loved the great focus on La'an as a character, and I am actually okay with them subtly changing the franchise's timeline around by re-dating the Eugenics Wars. It was clearly something done intentionally to give the writers some greater freedom, and I can appreciate it. Unfortunately, I just wasn't sold on the romance between La'an and Kirk, which felt incredibly rushed. Without that to tie everything together, the episode never quite clicks into place. But I still respect what it tried to do and don't take too many major issues with it.

Among the Lotus Eaters — Easily the one I have the least to say on. Decent enough premise, competently executed. Not a standout as either good or bad.

Charades — Absolutely hated this one. The writers took a great concept and fumbled it. The direction they chose to go with human Spock baffles me, and doesn't make sense within their own canon. If Vulcan emotions are stronger than human ones, why does Spock becoming human suddenly make him too emotional to function? And why would he forget his Vulcan upbringing and need to be reminded how to act Vulcan? Then of course all of this is just done to further the Spock/Chapel relationship, rather than be the obvious Spock character study it should be. It's awful. Least favorite episode of the whole show, by far.

Lost in Translation — I really like the premise and overall vibes of this one, as well as the greater focus on Uhura (who might be the only legacy character that I take no issue with). Sadly, this episode is let down by some pretty poor pacing. Everything drags for longer than it needs to, and plenty of scenes felt like padding. It could have used another pass in either the writing or editing room.

Those Old Scientists — I was fully prepared to hate this one. I don't like Lower Decks, so I figured the crossover would be more of the same. But to my great surprise, this episode was excellent. Jack Quaid and Tawny Newsome perfectly translated their characters to live-action, and the characters are much funnier when they have regular people to bounce off of. I laughed out loud multiple times. But it's not just a jokefest, and has some good character beats as well. A very pleasant surprise.

Under the Cloak of War — Ehhhh. I appreciate what they were trying to do, but it never quite clicked. The Klingon general turned ambassador simply isn't fleshed out enough for the debate of whether he's truly reformed to have any weight. And M'Benga calling himself the Butcher of J'Gal just confuses things unnecessarily. I actually had to look up an episode summary to understand the ending, and when I did, I kinda hated it. For them to act like M'Benga killing a few enemy Klingons in an effort to stop mass bloodshed is on the same level as someone ordering the genocide of civilians, including children... that's frankly insulting. There was a good story somewhere in here, but it needed a couple more passes in the writing room. (Or you could just watch DS9's "Duet" instead.)

Subspace Rhapsody — The musical episode! I won't mince words. This is arguably the best episode of the show, and one of the best musical episodes I've ever seen, second only to the Buffy episode which so clearly inspired it. The songs are largely excellent, well tailored to fit both the characters and actors, and the cast is fairly talented. But it's not just silly songs for the sake of being fun. The writers understand that musical episodes should take advantage of the format to explore characters in a very unique way, and as such, most of the songs are character-driven. And the final resolution being that music needs to bring the crew together, in an ensemble number led by Uhura... that's so perfect. Only the Spock/Chapel stupidity brings this one down. Otherwise it's an A+ all-around. I've had "Status Report," "How Would That Feel," "I'm the X," and "Keep Us Connected" basically on repeat since seeing it.

Hegemony — An action-packed finale that I really enjoyed. They've done a fairly good job reimagining the Gorn to be actually threatening, and this episode expertly keeps the tension high. I've been seeing a lot of comparisons to "The Best of Both Worlds," and while it wouldn't go that far, it's certainly a solid finale.

[gotatext]

JUDE & CHARLENE — DAY THIRTY-NINE.

location :    bean bags.

time :    charlene accuses jude of blue ballsing her, jude forgets evie’s name.

featuring :   charlene /  @guttcd

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

“look -- i know it’s old news or whatever but all i’m saying is that you totally blue balled me at the heart rate challenge and like, i’m still kind of butthurt about it” it’s all dramatics mind you. charlene wanting to mess with him a little, even going as far as to play up the bit by having her body turned away from him, completely avoiding eye contact with him while her arms crossed over her chest. it’s just a joke! for the most part at least but there is a part of her that does feel a little robbed. like, he kissed her neck but not her lips? what, are we running a nunnery in this bitch? “you’re lucky i think you and jenny are super cute together or else i would like, totally be throwing a bigger fit about it.’’

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.

"i blue-ballsed you?" jude repeats, unconvinced, eyebrow raising on his forehead. "mate, you fuckin' blue-ballsed me. there's me dancing all over you and you didn't even pick me. fuckin' hell, char, talk about killing a guy's ego." he's only half-joking, laugh a sharp bark as he tosses his head back, and brings his bottle of bud up to his lips, spilling it carelessly down his neck. "although the fact that you danced on jenny was steamy as. i can't lie, i enjoyed that." still turned away from him, jude reaches for charlene, pulling her shoulder to make her face him. "mate, c'mon. don't even trip. you know you're hot as fuck. i can't say that any more, though, it'll get me in trouble." after movie night, he means, since charlene's now probably on jenny's list of people jude can't be trusted with.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

"whatever!" she exclaims indignantly. fighting the urge to smile has the corner of her lips twitching a little bit, especially when he laughs in such a boisterous manner. "i would have picked you but like, i thought jenny was the safer option between the two of you."  safer in, she doesn't see jenny thinking that her dancing on her partner would be hot and it's not like she's actively trying to be a problem for them. so frankly, she's a little surprised by jude's words during movie night. about how he would 'tap that' despite the murder attempt (/j?).  didn't exactly love the phrasing but she knows by now that's just how jude speaks, so she is quite flattered. charlene doesn't fight him when he brings her to face him, but she keeps her arms crossed and her gaze annoyed. until he compliments her again that is, in which her façade totally drops with a smile. "well, i appreciate it jude. you're not too bad yourself." she teases, "but you don't need me to tell you that. how are you and jenny after last night?"

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.

“so you admit it. you went for the easy option.” feels like a got-cha moment, like he should be pulling back his arm and shouting ker-ching! in a hideously dated reference to early noughties CBBC, like him and gaz used to do at school any time they found a girl willing to go to second base. “never took you for boring, char.” jude scoffs, eyes rolling as he lets his head loll back against his shoulders, tries to remember the name for the assortment of stars above their heads. maybe he’s baiting her a little, but who can blame him. jenny’s on her second date this week, and the last one she’d fucking necked off with right in front of him. santiago. god, he’s gonna be a fucking seven-foot nobel peace-prize winning firefighter who volunteers at animal shelters in his spare time or some shit, isn’t he? even his name’s a bit sexy. too bad jenny doesn’t go for good guys. sucks to be you, santiago. “we’re actually really good,” jude shrugs, finger lifting to trace the shape of the map of stars that looks like a saucepan. “like she was mad for a bit, but it blew over pretty quickly, and then she said there was no one else in here she wants to get to know. which… i dunno, i’m having a hard time believing, but it still feels good to hear it. that i’m her guy.”  his mouth lifts in a dumb little grin, bottle lifting to his lips in an attempt to camouflage it.  “how are you and… shit. just had a total mind blank. what’s your girl's name again?”

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

"easy? i'm gonna tell jenny you said that." charlene retorts, curious to see if that gets a reaction out of jude. she kinda hopes it does, for the fact that jude is one of those people that is just so fun to mess with. "boring!" she scoffs, as if actually offended. "rude! what happened to bags of personality?"  there is something endearing about the way jude expresses his relationship with jenny, like he doesn't want to admit how much he actually likes her but  that dumb little grin of his does not go unnoticed. is so different from his other dumb grins. this is like, lover boy dumb. "that's good. i'm glad things worked out for you last night." a little surprised too but hey, a win is a win and she's more than happy to celebrate it with him. "why wouldn't you believe her?  it's not like she's given you a reason not to, right? i bet you she's hanging out with that new guy and wishing it was you instead." or rather, she hopes. his inability to remember evie's name makes her roll her eyes. "evie." she reminds him, "and were good. she's so cute, dude. so check it out -- her and i, we're keeping it pretty open right? like, she's only been in the villa for a few days so we didn't wanna rush anything. so last night i had a bit too much to drink and like, got pretty handsy. ended up kissing victoria. i think evie saw us? i don't know, that part is still a little hazy to me but either way she ended up getting jealous about it which... maybe should be a red flag but it wasn't cus i liked it. like, it felt niceto have someone give a shit about what i do. you know what i mean?"

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.

his laugh is the sniggering kind as he swigs from his bottle of bud. “yeah, but knowing jenny she’d probably agree.” categorically not true. she’d bat her eyelashes and say something like what! you think i’m easy? jude! and pout in that girlish baby face she loves to do. “fine, you got me. you’ve got a personality. you want like a medal or summat?” leaning over, he presses the heel of his hand against her forehead. it wouldn’t exactly be a stretch to view it as sibling-zoning her, but it comes from a place of warmth, and everybody’s already seen him claim that he’d tap that. kind of embarrassing. “i mean… she’s not given me a reason not to trust her aside from kissing victoria on their date and having her heart risen the most by josh, but yeah. i don’t know. i’m just being cautious. i don’t wanna get too deep too quick and end up like dylan or miles.” harsh one, true one, as gaz would say. “evie!” he repeats, tries to sink it into his brain as he shuffles further into his bean bag. “got it, sure. nah, jealousy can be kinda hot, though.” for jude, it’s mostly just anxiety-inducing, but he can see how it could be a fun game if he was interested in spending his whole life paranoid that jenny’s fucking someone else. in the grand scheme of things, he doesn’t know that much about her; maybe jenny’s the sort to play games with his mind and his heart, even when if right now feels like they’re on the same page, like she knows him better than he knows himself. “if you care about that shit then you gotta protect it.”

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

charlene doubts it. certain that there is no girl on earth that would like to be called easy, much less agree to it, but she doesn't want to pretend she knows jenny better than jude does. "yeah -- a medal would be really fuckin' nice, actually. having personality isn't as easy as it seems, you know. it took some work to build!" his palm on her forehead is unexpected, but charlene commits to the bit, lazily swinging her fists at his direction and purposely missing him. "what? you wanna scrap or something?" she thinks she could take him. all that smoking he does must fuck with his stamina right? charlene leans back from his touch to flash him a look of surprise - it's the first she's heard of the victoria x jenny kiss.  "they kissed too? victoria's been busy." good for her to be honest. "i don't think you should worry too much about that. jenny doesn't seem to like girls outside of the physical stuff." that, she can say with certainty. having literally slept with the girl ( ft. dante ) "maybe she thought you were gonna find it hot or something. and as for josh, yeah, it was kinda weird. watching everyone dance on their exes was way uncomfortable." she still doesn't get it tbh. "but... yeah, i don't know. maybe being cautious isn't a bad thing." especially when he lists those examples. "are you guys thinking of taking it slow then?" now that she thinks about it, she doesn't think she's seen jude and evie talking together so maybe him blanking on her name shouldn't be much of a surprise. " right? just a little bit can be hot" maybe that says more about her toxic little side than anything else. "i do care about her and i think she cares about me. which like, such a fucking contrast to the naomi bullshit." it's like night and day, going from naomi who put zero effort in making them work vs evie who goes above and beyond to make charlene feel heard. more than that, wanted

[ohthemis]

I don't know if I've even sent this ask but what if vyn cheats on rosa/reader. Sorry for the bother

—   collateral damage

character: vyn richter a/n:  tw: cheating // do all vyn stans have an innate craving for angst? because these requests, man, they’re something else. keep them coming though, i’ll see what i can do for u <3 disclaimer though, this is totally ooc for vyn. i dont think he’d ever cheat on a partner no matter how unhappy he is in a relationship. (omg i love writing angst, it used to be the only thing i wrote on my old blog until i stopped being 🖤🦇🥀⛓ emo girl, also this is dialogue heavy) sypnosis: unhappiness brings out the worst in people. unfortunately for vyn, so does guilt.

vyn wasn’t happy. for a long time he knew he wasn’t happy with you. it was the small things first. the way he didn’t find your quirks cute anymore, just plain old annoying. then, the fighting started. the way he didn’t care to deal with any more of your bullshit, or you in general, if he was being honest.

so when you two fought, he took a drive. he drives to the nearest club. he doesn’t know where he wanted to go, but frankly, as long as it was away from you, it was good enough. 

and when he finds himself in the arms of someone, someone who didn’t resemble you, someone who wasn’t anything like you. he’ll tell himself he was just drunk, that it meant nothing. but he knew what it was, he just wanted the easy way out of your relationship.

and for a while after that, it was good. you apologize to him, smiling, while he tries to hide his stained shirt. you make dinner while he tries to wash lipstick off his shirt.

for a moment, it sets in. he keeps his mouth shut, though. he keeps it shut because what can he do? tell you? ruin everything when it was finally getting good?

but as fate would have it, vyn was a weak man. he loses himself to desire and he loses himself to regret.

“i saw someone that night when we fought.”

“what?”

“i’m sorry, i just needed to tell you. it wasn’t right to keep it to-”

“it’s not right to keep it a secret but making out with some bitch after a petty argument is?”

“i’m already being honest with you! what do you want me to do?”

“i don’t fucking know, vyn? what do you want from me? you think i should be on my knees and thanking you for telling me you cheated on me?!”

“god, mc-”

“was it good?”

“what?”

“was she a good kisser? was she pretty? did she look at you like she loved you for so long she starts to forget her name when you look her in the eye? because, fuck, vyn, i did! i put everything into this, into loving you. and it’s so unfair because it’s like you don’t care at all.”

“mc, i was drunk and upset. it’s not any excuse but-”

“no it’s not! it’s not an excuse, vyn! so what does it matter? because you think that the thought of you drunk and making out with some bitch is making the situation any better? i know you vyn. when you’re drunk, i know that you know what you’re doing. i’m just collateral damage right? you’re just sad because you don’t have that chick and now you don’t have me either.”

“i didn’t even know her!”

“and i’m supposed to be happy about that?”

“fuck, i don’t know?”

“you think i’m going to be happy that you were willing to mess around with whoever gave you the time of day, not after a few minutes away from me? fuck you vyn. i fucking hate you so much.”

“i’m sorry”

“that doesn’t change anything.”

you walk out of the door. you don’t know where you’re going, but frankly, as long as it was away from him, it was good enough.

vyn sits there desolate and exhausted. tears were streaming down his face, and the sheer desperation doesn’t quite reach the breaking point. he wants to chase after you, to beg, to tell you he was wrong, he was the one who ruined everything, but what difference would it make? you were well aware.

the room is so devoid of life, the only last remnants of it being his broken sobs and the occasional drop of tear on the carpet.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.  

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

——————————————————

It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.  

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.  

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.  

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.  

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”  

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.  

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

[darkmulti]

hi, can you write yandere! bts reaction to you slapping them in an argument please?

⚠️: Yandere!BTS, slapping, implied smut, manipulation

-> sorry for any mistakes

»»———————————- ♔ -———————————««

Jin

Jin was once again, being narrow minded. “It was for work, Jin! I wasn’t working with him for fun, it’s our job. I can’t believe you punched him in the face. You embarrassed me in front of everyone!”

“Great! If you’re embarrassed, quit your job! So you never have to see them again!

“I’m not quitting! You can get that out of your head! I would leave you before quitting-” a hard slap cut you off. You instinctively covered your stinging cheek and took a step back. You were in a state of shock. Yes, you and Jin had petty arguments here and there but they never got physical. By the end of the day, you guys worked it out. However, after he laid his hand on you, you knew it was over. You looked up at him and slapped him right back. “Fuck you! We’re over.”

You turned around and ran upstairs to your shared bedroom. This house was under Jin’s name so it was you who has to go. You grabbed your suitcase and started packing all your clothes. Jin rushed into the shared room and pulled your suitcase away. He dumped all the clothes on the ground and threw the suitcase across the room.

“You’re not fucking leaving! Hang up all these clothes. Stop overreacting like a pathetic little bitch.”

You scoff and get off the floor. “I’m a ‘pathetic little bitch’?! Says my insecure husband.”

“You won’t be able to survive without me. No other man would be able to spoil you like I do. I’ve given you the high life, now obey me in return.”

“I’m not your slave, I don’t have to fucking listen to you.”

“Do you pay the bills in this house?! Do you buy the groceries?! Do you pay for insurance?! No? Then, shut up. You wouldn’t have anything if it weren’t for me. You’d probably be living on the streets if I didn’t take you in. I was the one who made sure you got that job because I knew it would make you happy. If it weren’t for me, those guys would’ve laughed in your face, Y/N. All you do is go to work, flirt with your co-workers and act all big shot around me. The least you could do is respect me and our relationship.” With that, he slammed the door shut, leaving you alone while you questioned your worth.

Yoongi

It started off as a calm and quiet evening but as soon as your phone vibrated, it quickly changed.

You began working for a new company and your new boss has been up your ass. He treats you like a personal assistant and it was pissing you off. You noticed that you were the only one who was being treated like this and it angered you. Once you’re clocked out, you don’t like to be disturbed unless it’s urgent. But your boss doesn’t seem to understand that and asks you to do work while your clocked out. You obviously refuse because why should you do work if you’re not getting paid?

Anyways, he’s always texting you about how to do different kinds of paper work, who’s working, who’s not working, how to hire people, ect — he should know how to do all of it because he’s the boss. When your off work, he’s texting you ever 10-15 minutes, asking for help. You’re tired of it, but can’t really do anything about it. You can’t quit just yet because you’re trying to prove to your boyfriend that you don’t need him to survive.

Yoongi has always underestimated you. Man literally thinks that you’re dumb. One night, you both got into a heated argument and he told you that you wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him. The very next day, you went to a bunch of job interviews and got hired on that same day.

It’s been two weeks at your new job and ever since, your phone is always blowing up thanks to your boss. Even at 10pm, your boss is texting you about work. Yoongi became annoyed because you were always on your phone. You guys got into another argument about this so now, you hide your phone from him so he can’t see the notifications.

Ever since then, things have been a little better. Tonight was movie night and you foolishly had your phone in your hand. Throughout the movie, your phone was lighting up and vibrating multiple times and a Yoongi was tired of it.

“Who the hell are you texting now?!” He snatched your phone out of your hands and when he saw that it was your boss, he threw your phone against the wall. “I told you to block that man! Yet, you go against me and continue to text him! Are you sleeping with him? Are you cheating on me with him?!” He screamed, making your heart leap out of your chest.

You didn’t say anything. Instead you ran to the door. You didn’t want to deal with him anymore. You deserved better. You tried to leave but he slammed the door on your fingers and pulled you back inside. You slapped his face and tried leaving again but he grabbed your hair and pulled you down to the basement.

“You made me do this to you. I warned you plenty of times to stay off your phone but do you listen to me? No. I’ve given you too much freedom and now you don’t know how to behave. That stops now.”

Hoseok

“Get up. Boss wants to see you.” The guards said, pulling you up by your arms and dragging you out of the cell. “Boss my asshole. Who does he think he is? Kidnapping me for no good reason. I just wanted coffee and now I’m god knows where!” The guard chuckles at your bratty behaviour. “Just a little advice, don’t talk to boss like that. He’ll blow your brains out.”

“Shut up, muscle head. Don’t tell me what to do.” The guard stops and aims a gun at your head. “Do it muscle head. Your boss will be so proud of you.” You said sarcastically. “Shut your mouth and keep walking. I may not be allowed to kill you but I can still still hurt you — really badly.”

“Are you threatening me muscle head?” You turn around, ready to scrap with the guard. He may be a lot bigger than you, but you’re a lot smarter and clever.

“Hey, hey, do we have a problem here?” A familiar voice interrupted. You turn around and your heart drops when you see his face. “No, boss. She’s just refusing to-”

“Hoseok?” You cut the guard off and step back. “Oh, so you still remember me?” He smirks and walks towards you but you keep walking back. “What do you want from me?”

“Isn’t the answer obvious? I want you back.”

“No! I broke up with you because you’re crazy. Leave me alone now. I’m a different person. I’m not the same Y/N that you manipulated and controlled. I left her behind. Now let me go!”

Hoseok cornered you. There was no where to run. “Are you sure that you left her behind? You’re claiming that you changed but you’re still very naive, darling.”

His words made your blood boil. Hoseok mentally and emotionally abused you. With the help of therapy, you were able to pick up and put your broken self together. You thought that you’ve become a stronger person, but as soon as you saw his face, your confidence was washed away.

“I- I told you, I’m different now!” You tried to sound brave, but your facial expression sold you out. Hoseok wasn’t dumb; he knew you were scared shitless. “So, show me that your a different person. How will you escape me this time, darling?” He traps you in between his arms and leans in close to your face. In a panic, you slapped him across the face and made a run for it.

You somehow managed to get out of his large mansion, but Hoseok was running after you the whole time. You tried losing him at sharp turns and big crowds, but he was right on your ass. You saw a security guard and bolted towards him. “Sir, sir! There’s a- a man...” you said, to catch your breath, “a man chasing me. He kidnapped me. Please, I need your help.”

“That’s enough darling.” Hoseok caught up to you and without a second thought, you hid behind the security guard. “Sir, please! Arrest this man! He kidnapped me!”

The security guard was ready to take action until he saw the man’s face. “M-mr. Jung?! Sir, I had no idea that she was running from you! Sir, I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!” The guard grabbed your arm and pushed you to Hoseok.

The commotion had everyone watching. The security guard was on his knees with his hands interlocked together. “Please spare my family and I. Mr. Jung it was an honest mistake.”

“What the hell?” You quietly muttered. “You see that, darling. Everyone is afraid of me. So you can run all you want, but you can never ever hide from me.”

Namjoon

After a long week of work, your husband wanted to treat you to dinner. You’ve both been extremely busy due to your hectic schedule and it’s caused you both to drift apart. The only time you see Namjoon is in the morning and before going to bed.

It was Friday evening and you were getting ready for date night. You wore a gorgeous dress that was somewhat revealing but you were fine with it. You just wanted to look good for your husband.

You both agreed to meet at the restaurant and when Namjoon saw you, his jaw dropped. He possessively wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you to your private table. It was outside on a balcony. You guys had an ocean view, the weather was perfect and the stars were out. It was super romantic.

The date was perfect until the waiter started checking you out. Namjoon was visibly annoyed by the waiter but kept it to himself until he left. “Why did you have to wear that dress? Are you doing this on purpose? So other guys can check you out?” You were taken back by his questions. “No, I wore this dress for you, not for some random men.”

Namjoon scoffed and bit the inside of his cheek. “When will you stop lying?” He mumbled, but you were able to pick it up. “I’m not lying, Joon. And quite frankly, I’m hurt that you think I’m doing this for other men. You’re making me feel bad about myself.”

You got up and left but he followed behind. You walked out of the restaurant and got into your car. You drove back home without giving Namjoon a second glance. Once you arrived home, Namjoon pulled up next to your car. You both entered the house in silence.

Namjoon’s phone began ringing so, he went upstairs to answer it. After tidying the house, you went upstairs and overheard his conversation. “We could’ve had a wonderful night, but my wife doesn’t know how to dress.”

Now, he’s pissed you off. You slam open the room door, grab his phone and hang up. “Do you enjoy putting your own wife down?! Do you enjoy humiliating her?! I wore this dress for you! I wanted to look good for you! I wanted you to complement me and tell me I look pretty but instead you slut shame me!”

Out of anger, you slap him across the face. “I want a divorce. I’m not staying with someone who made me feel like complete shit. You can keep this house, I don’t want anything from you.”

Namjoon looked down and started to laugh. His laugh gradually got louder and it started to creep you out. You took a couple steps away from him but he noticed and grabbed your wrist. “You want a divorce? So you can go back to that restaurant and gets that waiters number? Over my dead body. You’re never leaving me. If I have to hurt you, I will.”

Jimin

“Jimin! Stop it! You’re overreacting!”

Jimin dragged you out of his friends house and pushed you into the car, creating a scene. Everyone was watching him degrade you for not wearing your wedding ring.

“You forgot?! What kind of wife do I have?! Are you dumb?! How could you forgot to wear your wedding ring?! That ring shows everyone that you’re mine!”

Jimin was full on screaming in your face and you couldn’t handle it. You broke down crying into your hands. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! It truly wasn’t my intention.” You were beyond terrified. You didn’t want to go home because you knew he would punish you. Even though he humiliated in front of everyone, you’d rather stay around people than go home and be alone with him.

You were about to go down on your knees until he slapped you and dragged you along. You tried getting out of his grip and in the process you accidentally slapped him. It wasn’t a hard slap or anything, you were just trying to get away. But of course, Jimin made it a big deal.

“First, you forgot your wedding ring; second, you flirted with all my friends and now, you slapped me?! Why don’t you want to leave, huh?! Who are you sleeping with?! Who are you trying to replace me with?!”

“No one! I didn’t mean to slap you! I’m sorry!” You were crying your eyes out. You’ve never seen Jimin this aggravated. You were afraid of what he might do to you so, you gave in because you didn’t want to worsen your punishment. He pushed you into the car and slammed the door shut. Throughout the car ride, his hand squeezed your thigh.

“You don’t even know what’s coming your way. Just wait till we get home” He muttered, causing your heart to drop into your stomach.

Taehyung

“Taehyung! Let me go! People are going to notice that I’m missing! You can’t keep me here forever!” You yelled, banging on the metal door.

It was your foolish mistake; trying to break up with him at his house. The moment you told him you want to part ways, he grabbed you and pushed you into the basement. Of course you fought back, but miserably lost against him. Now it was a game of waiting. Waiting for someone to notice your presence missing.

- 3 days later -

It been a couple days and you’re still locked in the basement. There was no clock or a window so you couldn’t keep track of time. Taehyung hadn’t come downstairs to check on you either. You were starving and living off the bathroom tap water. You were lying on the ground, looking lifeless when the heavy metal doors opened.

“Are you done playing your childish games?” Taehyung asked, crossing his arms. “You should be asking yourself that question, Taehyung. I’m not playing any games. I’m serious when I say I want out of this relationship.”

Taehyung closed the doors and walked towards you. He grabbed your shirt and pulled you close to his face. “All the years we spent together, you wanna throw it all away, angel?”

You turn your head away from him, avoiding his dark orbs. Taehyung noticed you avoiding his eyes so he pushed you against the wall and leaned in close to your face. “Look at me when I talk to you, angel. Or are you scared?” You were on the verge of tears but you didn’t want to appear weak in front of him. You looked him straight in the eyes and muttered, “get away from me.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, angel...” he grabbed your ear and tugged on it, “I’m your master. You listen to me.” His deep voice sent chills down your spine. You were close to dropping on your knees and submitting to him out of fear. But you didn’t. You couldn’t show him that you’re weak. “Taehyung, I’m serious! Get away from me!”

Taehyung frowned. You were really getting on his nerve. Was he not a good boyfriend? He spoiled you with gifts, spent all his time with you and he never cheated on you. What was he doing wrong? He thought to himself. “Why is my perfect, little, angel acting out? Look at me, angel. Tell me what I did wrong? Did you fall out of love? Did you find someone new?”

You look at him, dumbfounded. “Taehyung, you’re trying to control me! You’re making my decisions for me. I can’t go out alone, and if I do, you stalk me! Then you get possessive for no reason! You almost killed my bestfriend because he gave me a hug! You take things too far and you don’t trust me even after being together for years! You just want to control my life and feel like I’m suffocating when I’m with you.”

You could see fire in Taehyung’s eyes. He raised his hand, ready to slap you but before he could, you slapped him and ran for your life. You were light headed and weak, however if Taehyung finds you, you’ll face severe consequences.

Jungkook

Jungkook was going on and on about you going out with your male bestfriend.

You texted Jungkook last minute because you knew if you had told him earlier, he wouldn’t allow you to go. You simply messaged him, “I’m going out with Namjoon, I’ll be home by 6pm.”

Jungkook was livid. He called you multiple times but you were too scared to pick up. Finally, his 7th attempt was when you decided to pick up.

“Where the fuck are you?! I’m coming to pick you up right now.”

“Jungkook we just came to the restaurant, I’m not leaving.”

“Do you think it’s appropriate to go to a restaurant with another man?! What if people think you guys are dating, huh? You’re a fucking cheater. Tell me your location, now!”

“For the love of god, I’m not cheating on you! Namjoon and I have known each other since middle school. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you. We are nothing but friends.”

Jungkook was pissed. He hung up the phone and went home. He poured himself a glass of whiskey before sitting down on the couch. He was waiting for your arrival. It was 5:54pm when the front door opened. You were right on time.

“See, I told you I’d be back by 6pm. I don’t know why you have to make everything such a big deal.”

“While I’m working my ass off, you’re out with another man.” He said, putting the glass of whiskey down.

“I work too, Jungkook. And I’m a full time student. If you want to get even with me, go out with your female friends. I wouldn’t mind at all. As long as they remain friends.”

Jungkook stood up and starting walking towards you. “So, you can cheat, but I can’t?” A taunting smile took over his face.

“Again, Jungkook? I am not cheating on you! Namjoon is just my close friend. That’s all. Nothing more or less.” You said, crossing your arms and unconsciously stepping back.

“Stop lying. Just tell me now and maybe I’ll forgive you.” You scoff and roll your eyes. “I don’t have time to deal with you, Jungkook. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, because you were fucking around with Namjoon, right?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You turned around to leave but Jungkook pulled you back, harshly. Instinctively, your hand landed a heavy slap on his face. Unexpectedly, Jungkook slapped you right back — but a lot harder.

You winced as you held your warm cheek. Hot tears gliding down your face. Without thinking twice, you made a run for the door but Jungkook tackled you to the floor.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?!”

You can make your own ending:)

[takaraphoenix]

Ship game!! What about Nico and Will?? It’s pretty popular, but I don’t think I’ve seen you write much of it…

That's an interesting one in that I have vocalized my reasons for disliking it way back when it first became popular but instead of just linking that, it has been years so I think it's time for an updated version.

Firstly: This post is gonna be properly tagged and not crosstagged so if any shipper comes across it and feels the need to bitch about it, just don't; your lack of curating your own tumblr experience is not my problem! ;D

Now, there are three key factors that play into my dislike of this ship: How it was written, what it represents, how the fandom around it acts.

1. It’s rushed and uncomfortable

In BoO, it was incredibly rushed. They had literally five sentences of interactions before they walked into the literal sunset together. Five. It was just entirely born from Riordan's Noah's Ark Complex, where he just can't let people be single. The series was ending and he needed Nico to have an endgame so he rushed into some random romance with zero build-up.

The way their interactions went down was also severely uncomfortable for me. Will was acting so offended by Nico not wanting to go to camp and be friends in an entitled way that he had no right to be, he downright guilt-tripped Nico about how he had wanted to be friends. Nico has been just so severely traumatized at such a young age and his coping mechanism, as unhealthy as it was, was to run away and hide. Will acted like Nico not wanting to form attachments to people who could potentially leave him again was somehow just an Edgy Emo Decision and not a direct reaction to his trauma. His entire approach to Nico was basically all these hippie posts of "Don't have depression!! Just go out into the sun and stop being depressed!", which is already a bad take with non-medical people but he's supposed to be a doctor (and let's not get into the shadiness of him technically being Nico's doctor).

There is also an inherent "I can fix him" angle to this ship and to me, only few ship dynamics are more uncomfortable than that. If you want to fundamentally change a person's behavior and personality, you... don't actually want to be with this person.

Now, here's where my points overlap, because the following parts of their writing that bothers me also stand for what this ship fundamentally represents.

2. Solangelo is a queer ship written by and for straights

I'm a queer woman and as a queer woman, I want queer wish-fulfillment, not what straights want out of queerness. I'm kind of tired of that, I've been sitting through it for enough decades now. That's, of course, not to say that no straight writer can give proper queer representation, but far too often do straight writers - even the most well-meaning ones - project straight desires of queerness into their queer representation.

Let me explain that closer through this ship.

Nico's been in love with Percy for years and I'm going to do my best to not hijack this post with some Percico agenda; that's not what this his about, this isn't some "my ship is better than your ship" ship-war nonsense. It's simply a canonical fact that Nico has had romantic feelings for another character for years.

A character who, in this medium, is heterosexual. And if you're queer, you've been there. In love with your straight best friend. It's a cliche, but it's a cliche for a reason.

We have also all been well-meaningly rejected by said straight friend.

And here's the straight desires for you: The queer person who was in love with a straight person just immediately stops having those feelings and will then as quickly as possible fall in love with the next queer person they meet to be happy and no longer uncomfortably in love with a straight person, because that thought makes the straights uncomfortable.

Queer wish-fulfillment would be for Percy to return those feelings, for the queer character to get his first love, to not be rejected. That thing queer teens always dreamed about for themselves.

Aside from the wish-fulfillment angle, the pacing is another problem. Let me repeat, Nico was in love for years. But a five sentence conversation with Will once causes a crush on Will and we see him physically turn away from Percy and toward Will just immediately to rebound and actually fall out of love with Percy and in love with Will. Anyone who's ever been unlucky in love will attest to just how unrealistic and ridiculous the pacing here is.

It's also straight queerness in another respect; Nico has been the first ever queer character we meet in that world. He loves a straight guy - and to get over that, we introduce the second queer character. Because heaven forbid there are multiple queers to pick from. No, in straight-written queer romances, there is always that one main queer and then they introduce a second one and the two just immediately hit it off and develop a romance like all a queer person needs to form attraction to someone is the confirmation that the other person shares your sexuality.

Also the notable gay guy on gay guy ship here, whereas the more queer-wish-fulfillment option would have also included more nuance to the queer experience, because Percy doesn't have to be heterosexual just because he has only been with girls so far. It's a very old-fashioned - think 90s and early 2000s - kind of straight-written queerness that there are only exactly two homosexuals and that those two homosexuals then pair up.

And, listen, I'm not immune to these outdated straight-written queers entirely, I have many such ships that I grew up with that I am still fond of because they were groundbreaking at that time and they weren't outdated yet back when they happened in said 90s and early 2000s. I am however a grown woman now and just like I have grown, so has queer rep so I am not as easily baited into falling onto my knees in gratitude for canon rep. You have to go with the times. And this ship, by all that is given to us, is just entirely outdated straight-written rep.

Which, I mention earlier that even straight-written rep can be good. If the author tries. Riordan doesn't really try though; he does the bare minimum when he writes any of his rep - and there have been many, many more qualified voices being very vocal about his depiction of people of color and, as a woman, I've been vocal about his depiction of women. I don't want to derail this post with all of that, but I do think that it bears mentioning that Riordan doing rep but only doing a bare minimum and not putting in the necessary work to deepen the representation he wants to give is a repeating pattern that has been pointed out many times by now.

(I’d also like to point out that no, it is not just the ship and not just the listed instances that make it straight-written rep for straights. It’s Nico’s entire queer arc, starting with his forced coming out. A severely traumatizing event that is completely brushed over because the straight author doesn’t understand the impact this has on queer people. Not to mention the framework; Nico’s coming out isn’t Nico’s story, it happens in Jason’s POV, it is given to us through the POV of the straight bystander who gets to be Best Ally by assuring Nico that being gay is okay. This kind of coming out is not a queer wish-fulfillment, it’s a straight wish-fulfillment of getting to be the straight savior, the ally to show the gay the light of acceptance. And, additional to the ridiculous pacing of how fast Nico gets over his love for Percy, Nico also gets over years of internalized homophobia just because of, I don’t know, Jason’s few encouraging words and the fact that Will paid attention to him? For a gay kid who was in the closet all his life, the nonchalant way in which he publicly confessed his crush to Percy at the end made absolutely no sense and was written as basically a joke, finished off with Nico literally high-fiving Percy’s girlfriend despite those two never having seen eye to eye before but this is straight wish-fulfillment so all straights are Super Allies, because that’s the way straights want to see themselves, even though Annabeth has shown before just how jealous she can be and she most definitely wouldn’t go around high-fiving people who confess to her boyfriend. Nothing about Nico’s queer arc in HoO felt natural or queer or satisfying.)

Sure, Solangelo on a surface level is big because it's a canon queer couple in a YA book-series and kudos for that and yay for the kids who get to grow up seeing queers in YA books, but I actually do think that kids growing up with books written in the 2010s shouldn't grow up with 1990s levels of representation, because the 2010s overall are actually at a far more nuanced and better level of representation when it comes to queerness. And I do reserve the right to quit on too straight-written and too outdated queer rep in a landscape where I can get more satisfying representation elsewhere; we don’t live in times anymore where you necessarily have to love every bit of rep because it’s the only one you get.

Now that we've gone through my first two gripes, let's wrap this up with the final point, because it also directly ties into this.

3. The new wave of antis hiding behind this ship

A huge part of the fandom is so busy kissing Riordan's ass solely for giving them queer rep at all they think that both the author and the ship are beyond flawless and that kind of attitude is not good. Just because an author includes rep doesn't make either perfect. Absolutely no one is beyond critique - especially not when said critique comes from the very people the author is representing. And even beyond any "valid" critique on the ship, quite frankly, someone should also be allowed to just not like it, without any reasons given at all.

But there is a certain... protective obsessiveness about this ship that doesn't allow a not liking. Very similar to how PJO bore this mindset around Perc/abeth already. It's okay to have OTPs, even OTPs that you have a blindspot for and just don't want to see any flaws in. It is however not okay to then go around attacking people who don't like the thing and mind their own business.

Solangelo's bred a new generation of antis in this fandom. And, particularly with the fact that this post too receives an "anti" tag, I feel like there needs to be a clarification (because tumblr likes to forget what actually makes an anti). Not liking something doesn't make you an anti, venting in properly tagged posts doesn't either; it's the people who harass others, who seek out the content they dislike to then complain that it even exists and who actively try to make others stop creating for it - those are antis.

And with Solangelo's popularity, there was a high rise in Percico antis, who sought it out, were unnecessarily nasty about it, harrassed creators and tried to enforce some kind of "Solangelo supremacy" that won't allow other ships for the characters.

I've been in fandom long enough to be perfectly aware that not all Solangelo shippers count into this category and that there are completely normal and nice Solangelo shippers, but this is a Venn diagram where the overlap between Solangelo shippers and antis is too large to not widely associate the nasty people with the ship itself. (I've been there myself, shipping the very ship behind which a fandom's antis all hid. The second-hand embarrassment of having these people give the ship a bad name is horrendous and I do feel bad for all the normal Solangelo shippers.)

The more often I encountered these people, who made Percico bad (sometimes in wildly ridiculous manners that bent and deliberately misinterpreted canon) and who in the same breath praised Solangelo high, the more tired I grew of that ship. It's a simple game of association, really. You see that linked to the gross and nasty behavior and you start associating the ship itself with that gross and nasty behavior - and with all the things I said before that already weighed into my dislike of the ship, this just was the final tipping point, really.

And that's it. That sums up why I dislike Solangelo. It was hastily rushed, uncomfortable in its execution, it is outdated rep that very much feels as straight-written as it factually is and it does not feel aimed at me as a queer person but rather at the straight audience and it has gathered a cult following of quite uncomfortable people who on their own would be reason enough to avoid it so you can avoid them.

Send me a ship and I will explain why I do or don't ship it

[parkers-gal]

through the tears T.H.

warnings : child birth, cursing

summary : reader goes into labor, and the grandparents meet the baby !! (requested)

word count : 1800

i wrote this like months ago lmao but enjoy

Any day now, you had told yourself. Any day. Of course, you were nervous, and quite frankly kind of terrified of the baby Holland coming. Weeks into your third trimester, you and Tom couldn't be anymore prepared, and the preparation of the baby coming made you forget that she was actually coming.

You were watering the plants on the shelf in the living room. You were due any day now, and you were as ready as you could be. Maneuvering around some leaves, you started to pull the pot a little closer for easier access, but then you felt something leaking down your leg. Looking down you realized your water had broken.

Oh shit, here we go.

And then, Tom came in, a phone in one hand and a notepad in the other.

"Hey, love. Do you think we should go with the first model or th-"

But when he glanced up to look at you, you were slowly turning around, eyes wide and jaw slack.

"Love? Are you alri-"

"My water just broke."

You were making your way to the car now. Tom was grabbing the emergency bags, for you and the baby, making sure his wallet and phone were with him before he started the engine.

"Try to stay calm. Remember the breathing exercises we learned? In and out, in and-"

You had groaned in pain at the first, very minor, contraction. Though it was one of the less painful ones, it was still an unfamiliar feeling, and you weren't used to it.

"Almost to the hospital, love."

"Thomas slow down! We might get pulled over or something!" You said, a small smile on your face, grinning through the pain.

When you arrived at the hospital, Tom jogged in to let them know of your situation, and two nurses came out, one with a wheel chair and the other with a clipboard. They were wheeling you in and keeping you updated, asking you very few questions before letting you know that your doctor was preparing for your labor.

"You're the husband?" She turned to Tom.

"That would be me," he said.

"The cervix is still opening at the moment, but once it's wide enough we can start the process. We won't know for certain how long this could take, but at this rate it'll probably start within the hour," she informed him.

Tom was wide eyed at the mention of the cervix opening, but he nodded nonetheless. Then, he was back by your right side. You were laying in the bed, legs spread as the hospital gown was covering most of you. You were sweating, panting, and reaching for Tom.

"I'm right here, love. How're you feeling? You're gonna do great, angel."

"I'm-" you took a breath. "I'm alright. Hurts like a bitch though."

He laughed at you before kissing your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He leaned down to your ear to whisper a few words. "I'm gonna make a few calls. I'll be right back, angel." And then he kissed your shoulder and speed-walked out into the hallway.

He was ringing the landline to his parents, in hopes that word would spread and he would only have to make one call.

"Hey," Tom spoke first, testing the waters for who picked up.

"Hey, Tom? It's Harry. What's up?"

"Uhm, Y/N's water broke and we're at the hospital right now."

"Holy shit! What?" Harry screamed, excitement and nervousness evident in his tone. "Are yo-"

"Harry, you're gonna make me more nervous. Please, just tell mum & dad so they can get here. I need to go."

"Right yeah, of course."

"Thanks, bro."

"Anytime."

Tom sighed in relief, and he was about to hang up before Harry spoke up again.

"And, Tom?"

"Yeah?"

"Congrats, man."

Tom was starting to tear up. It wasn't everyday that him and his brothers had a heart-to-heart moment, and the realization of becoming a dad made it all the more emotional.

"Thanks, Harry. I'll see you soon, alright?"

"Yeah, man. We wouldn't miss it."

***

"Mum? Dad?" Harry called out, grabbing his phone and his wallet before heading in what he hoped was their direction.

"Yes?" Nikki answered, drinking tea from her mug as Dominic sat across from her.

"Y/N's going into labor. We need to go now."

The mug made a clattering noise from the small drop onto the table. It didn't break, but it sure did surprise both boys. And then, she was calling the rest of the Hollands and loading them into the car.

*** Harrison had arrived first, finding Tom's duffel bag on the floor in the hallway outside your room.

"Hey, Tom!" he said, walking in.

"Oh man -- hey, Haz."

They did a quick 'bear-hug' before making eye contact.

"You're about to be a dad."

"I know," Tom said, his voice more nervous than Harrison had ever heard.

"And you're gonna be great."

Once again, tears were welling up in Tom's eyes. But before he could continue the conversation any further, a nurse was coming up to Tom, almost disregarding Harrison's presence.

"Mr. Holland?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"Your wife is ready to go into labor, now."

The boys made brief eye contact, Harrison understanding, and he left the room to wait in the waiting-room chairs.

"Hey, love," Tom said, reaching for one of your hands, which you gladly gripped and squeezed.

"Thomas where the fuck have you been?" You whined, sweat coming out profusely and covering the entirety of your neck and face.

"I'm right here, darling. I'm not leaving, okay?"

"Get ready to push, Y/N," your doctor said from between your legs, interrupting your brief conversation with Tom.

Your husband had kissed your forehead, whispering encouraging words as you squeezed his hand for push number one.

"You're doing great love," Tom said, looking to the nurses for confirmation, to which one of them gave him a thumbs up. "I love you so much, Y/N. You're doing amazing. You're gonna push again, okay?"

You let out a loud groan, more like a cry and scream of pain and effort.

The doctor had felt your stomach over the hospital gown, mumbling something to the nurse beside her, before speaking up. "Last push, Y/N."

You groaned, attempting at one but failing.

"Just one more, love. Can you give me one more?" Tom said gently.

"I can't. I can't!" You cried, falling back onto the pillows.

"Just one more, baby. You're so close, and you've been doing great. Last one, darling. Okay? One more for me."

You nodded, hair sticking to the back of your neck as you squeezed his hand harder then ever. With a loud grunt, it was over, the baby successfully out as a nurse cut the umbilical cord. You fell back into the cushions as Tom went to look at his babygirl for the first time ever.

The nurse who was holding her smiled at Tom before letting him know they were going to wash up your baby.

Tom had taken a cold, damp towel and wiped your face. He got a new one to completely dry it off, before kissing your forehead and your hand. "Did so well, love. I love you so much."

"I love you, Tommy," You had managed to get out.

Less than ten minutes later, she was in your arms for the first time. Your gown was pretty low on your breasts, so the skin-to-skin was breathtaking. Tom was crying now, looking at his two girls and thanking whichever gods gave him you.

And then you were handing the baby over to Tom. Tom held her gently, like she was the most fragile being in the world.

He gasped through his tears. "Just like her mum."

"She's got your eyes, Tommy."

"Nonsense, darling."

You had breathed out a laugh, looking at Tom and your baby before letting one last tear fall.

"God I love you so much," you said.

"I love you. Both of you, so much," Tom had replied.

His phone had chimed in his pocket, and he was handing the baby back to you.

"What... what're we going to name her?" Tom asked timidly.

"Scarlet?" You said.

"After.. my grandmother?" Tom said, more tears forming.

"Yeah," You smiled softly.

"I like that," Tom said. "I like it a lot," he laughed through his tears. "Scarlet Leslie Holland?"

"Leslie," you repeated in a whisper. "Leslie," you whispered again. "Scarlet Leslie Holland."

"Yeah," Tom whispered back.

"I love it a lot."

Tom had kissed your forehead again before making his way into the hallway, where both sets of parents and siblings were waiting.

"Well?" Nikki said first, standing up as everyone else stood behind her.

"Do you want to meet her?"

*** The room was large, enough to fit everyone, thankfully. Upon entering, Nikki was first to catch a glance at you and her granddaughter, and the sight made her gasp, a hand to her mouth as tears formed quickly, falling just as fast.

"Oh, Tom. She's beautiful."

"They are, aren't they?" Tom said, standing on the other side of your bed as he watched his family's reaction.

"Do you want to hold her?" you asked, sitting up.

Nikki nodded, coming over and carefully taking the baby from you. She was in awe, cooing at the youngling while you whispered something to Tom about where your parents were.

"They said they'd give my family some time alone, first.. you know how your mum is: always the polite one," Tom whispered back.

You laughed before nodding. You turned back towards Nikki and the baby, silently watching them, as was Tom.

"Oh, Y/N," Nikki said. "She has your eyes."

"You see, love?" Tom said, smiling.

"She's so beautiful," Dominic confessed. "You two really... you two did really good."

"Thanks, dad," Tom said, a blush spreading on his cheeks.

"What's her name?" Paddy asked.

You glanced at Tom, smiling bashfully before replying. "Scarlet. Scarlet Leslie Holland."

"Scarlet," Nikki whispered, just as you had with Leslie.

While Nikki and Dominic were preoccupied with the baby, Harrison had made his way over to the two of you.

"Tom," Harrison said.

"Haz."

"You're a dad now," He said, his green orbs watering.

"Yeah," Tom said, laughing while stray tears fell.

"I'm so proud of you, man."

"Thank you, H."

"You know, Harrison," you cut in. "You're gonna be a pretty awesome godfather, don't you think?"

Tom looked down at you and smiled. He had let you choose who the godparents would be, and it warmed his heart to know you had chosen Harrison.

"Wait-" Harrison said. "You're serious?"

"Yeah," you said, laughing.

And then, the two boys were hugging and crying.

When they broke apart, Harrison spoke again. "I feel so lucky to have you three."

Each of Tom's brothers had a chance to hold the newborn, each one crying tears of joy and feeling immense pride in being apart of yours & Tom's journey.  

And then, Scarlet was back in your arms. You cradled her close to your chest, cherishing the feeling of her fresh skin against yours, the sweet smell of her new life starting, and you smiled through the tears.

[benevolentbirdgal]

Purim: a Jewish holiday and wild ride from start to finish

So let me tell you about the absolute soap opera that is the Jewish holiday of Purim. The scene is set in ancient (appx. 4th century B.C.E.) Persia during the first Jewish Diaspora, in the city of Shushan (typically identified in secular sources as Susa, a now-abandoned ancient city in what is now Iran). I’m telling you, as a work of literature (even beyond theological implications for Jewish people), this book has everything: love, drama, royalty, intrigue, ego, plots, irony, mystery, and a strong female lead. 

[some non-slur swearing below]

Ahasuerus, party-loving king of Persia executed or exiled (translations argue) his wife Vashti, and had to find a new queen. Why did he do this, you ask? Well, it really starts with an 180-day party across his kingdom for all his subjects to celebrate the third year of his reign. After that absolute rager, party-bro KA has another one immediately after for a week, this time just for the capital city of Shushan. Vashti was having a woman’s party in her quarters, presumably living her best life, when party-bro sends his top seven yes-men to deliver a message to Vashti. This sleaze-ball wants her to appear at his party in front of everyone, wearing her crown, with the clear implication being only her crown. Vashti more or less tells him to pound sand (I mean, not the literal translation, but that’s the sentiment). 

KA’s advisors convince him that this is not only an offense against the king but also against all the men in the country (ah, the joys of ancient patriarchy and toxic af masculinity). KA writes a degree that women must respect their husbands so he has an official reason to get rid of Vashti. Vashti is soon thereafter out of the picture and the king is short a queen. Whether she was a Wise Lady With A Point Who Got Screwed Over or a Vicious Jew-Hating Adulteress Who Had It Coming has been a matter of furious debate for over two millennia (the Babylonian Talmud and the Jerusalem Talmud vociferously disagree on her). In any case, KA regrets it pretty quick and wants a new queen. 

At the behest of his advisors (you know, since their last advice worked out soooooo well), KA had a big contest/forcible gathering of young women from around his kingdom and a Jewish woman, Hadassah, was the winner.  Hadassah was an orphan raised by her cousin Mordechai in the city of Shushan. Hadassah is more commonly known as Esther, because she changed her name to hide her identity as a Jew (at the behest of Mordechai). In any case, KA decided he liked Esther best and she became queen (it’s specifically mentioned both that he loved her most and that the palace staff liked her because she was nice to them-it’s unclear how much of an influence the latter was). 

Concurrently, a wicked man named Haman was the top advisor to the king and the king would basically rubber-stamp whatever Haman wanted. Haman was a raging Jew-hater-this will be relevant later. 

Some time into Esther’s reign as queen, Mordechai, who has taken to hanging around the gates of the palace to keep in touch with Esther, overhears a plot by two guards, Bigthan and Teresh, to kill the king. Mordechai alerts his cousin, and she tells the king. It’s recorded in the book of deeds and life keeps moving. 

Some time later, Haman decides (after a promotion to head lackey) that he wants all to bow to him as he passes. Mordechai refused to bow to Haman every single day (citing that as a Jew he bowed to no man), and that did not sit well with Haman. So despite being prime minister and presumably having more important things to do, “genocide the Jews” made it to the top of to-do list. He didn’t like them before, and Mordechai refusing to treat him like a special snowflake was something he took really, really personally (totally can’t think of any modern politicians like that, nope). He told KA, who frankly doesn’t seem to ask enough questions, that there was a people disrespecting the king and his laws throughout the land, and could he pretty-please exterminate them. As a bonus, Haman would “donate” 10,000 silver kikar to the royal treasury (modern conversion vary, but all agree this an absurd amount on money). 

KA handed him the royal seal to do so. Haman was feeling lucky I guess so he decided the best course of action was to draw lots to pick the day for the massacre. [Purim is lots in Hebrew, so that’s where the name of the holiday came from]. The message went out to all the provinces that on the thirteenth day of the twelfth month, that they citizens and leaders should murder all of the Jews, young and old, man, woman, and child, rich and poor and take their possessions as spoils. 

As this wasn’t exactly a state secret, the Jews knew and were quite distressed. The planned slaughter was like a year out, but what the actual fuck were they supposed to do? If you lived in Persia at that point that, the empire was functionally your entire world, unless you were fabulously/ridiculously wealthy and well-connected. Having several months notice the other locals and your rules were going to slaughter you and take your stuff isn’t particularly useful when there’s really nowhere to go. 

In Shushan, Mordechai (who, although not explicitly in text, is in oral/Talmudic tradition a leader of the Jewish community) goes into mourning. He dresses in sackcloth and ashes, he weeps, and he fasts at the gates of the palace, as Jews throughout shushan and the kingdom are doing. Esther hears of her cousin’s mourning behavior and tries to send along nice clothes through a messenger, which he refuses. It is then that she learns of the decree. Mordechai (through the messenger) implores her to go ask the king if the Jews not getting murdered could be a thing. Esther explains that she could be killed for approaching the king unsummoned. Mordechai stresses the severity of the situation. Esther agrees to ask the king and tells Mordechai to have the Shushan Jewish community fast day and night (as opposed to just day as prior) for three days, and she and her handmaidens will fast too (no word on what the handmaidens thought of this).

On the third day, Esther bravely approached the king, asked him if she could request something. He said anything, up to half his kingdom (which implies to me that homedude, for all his flaws, was actually into her). Esther invited him to a party, where he and Haman would be the only guests. At the party she asks if she can another request. KA is open to it and she invites him to another party the next night. Party-bro king is obviously down and Haman is tickled to death at this second invitation. 

He goes home to brag to his wife, Zeresh, about the invite and also to bitch about how angsty he is Mordechai is still alive (this angst reignited by passing him on the way home). Zeresh suggests he have fifty-foot gallows built to make Mordechai an example on, with the king’s permission, ASAP. Haman orders the building of the gallows, feeling secure in the knowledge that his bestie the king will execute Mordechai on them. 

Back at the castle KA can’t sleep. He demands a bedtime story from the his records, because those will presumably put him to sleep. The story that gets read, ~coincidentally~, is of Mordechai saving KA’s life. Haman had sidled on up to the castle to speak to the king about killing Mordechai, and the king called him in. KA asks Haman, if he were to honor someone, what should he do? Haman is thinking “this is obvi about me” and tells the king that the honoree should be donned in royal clothing, and ride through the streets on a fancy horse with people someone shouting how great he is. KA is like great, love it, perf, go do that for Mordechai. Haman is not a happy camper but does the thing. After that, he goes home and tells Zeresh about it, who warns him that this is a very bad sign. 

Finally, that night is the night of Esther’s second soiree. Haman and KA attend. The latter offers to Esther anything she wants, up to half of his kingdom. Esther asks that her life, and the life of her people be spared. KA is like “whomst” and Esther revealed it was Haman. At this point Ahasuerus.exe stops working and he takes a walk to the gardens. He comes back to see Haman begging Esther for his life, and KA thinks Haman is assaulting her. Haman was seized by nearby guards.

One of the chamberlains is then like, hey, KA, coincidentally there’s these super high gallows Haman just had built. Why not take care of the problem that way? (The fact that the random nearby chamberlain was like yup, that dude, hang ‘em in the morning, probably says a lot about how Haman treated most people around him, even more than forcing all to bow to him). KA orders it be done. 

Not that Haman was around to be sad about it, but what happened next would have massively pissed him off, as his old job then went to Mordechai. Esther then implored of the king that the degree to allow the massacre of the Jews be reversed. The king couldn’t Cntrl+Z the order to murder-all-the-Jews, but he could issue an order that they could fight back. The proclamation was sent throughout the land, and the Jews were able to prepare. Since the royal decree had been amended, the governments (princes, governors, satraps) largely reformulated their plans accordingly, but plenty of Jew-haters still wanted to use the opportunity. The ability to self-defend meant that the communities weren’t massacred. In most of the kingdom, the Jews were now safe. Outside of Shushan, the fourteenth of Adar became a feast day. 

Shushan was still not safe though. Antisemites were still out and mad (and apparently had not learned from the previous day), so Esther asked the Jews of Shushan to be allowed to defend themselves once more. Her wish was granted, and the Shushan Jews were able to defend themselves once more (so Purim is celebrated a day later in walled cities). 

The story ends with the decision to write it down, and although there some debate on authorship, it is traditionally attributed to Esther herself cowriting with Mordechai. 

Nowhere in the book is God mentioned. Nowhere is there divine intervention (at least not explicitly). Just Jews sticking up for themselves, being brave in the face of mortal peril, and a metric fucktown of chutzpah. 

[wiypt-writes]

Rock N Roll People In A Disco World

Part 5- Nobody Dance On A Sad Disco 

Intro: Paul doesn’t react well when your logical and practical side suggests you postpone your wedding…

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Word Count: 7k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 4

"I just don't understand why you think this is such a big frickin' deal, Paul." You said with exasperation. This argument had been carrying on for a good twenty minutes and so far, the only thing you'd accomplished was going in circles like a NASCAR driver. 

“You don’t understand?” He scoffed, hands on his hips, “seriously? You don’t see why I’m slightly pissed off you wanna postpone our wedding?” "You can't continue to tell me that not pushing everything back a few months makes the most sense right now. In a month’s time we were supposed to be going away for our stags, and since..... since... you.... This is just what's better for..." 

"Y/N, you do still want to get married don't you?" He interrupted. The strain in his voice was evident from both use and emotion. 

"What kind of fucking question is that?" Now you were raging. The absolute audacity of him to even ask that.  “Well it's non-rhetorical.” “Of course I still want to get married, you fucking moron!” You growled.  "Then explain to me wh.." his voice cracked out and he breathed harshly through his nose. “That!” You gestured to him. “That is why!” "So it hurts a little, it's fine. For fucks sakes, I'm fine," his voice was entirely strained from arguing, his chords stretch to their limit. “No, you’re not.” You shook your head before you took a deep breath and pinched your nose. “Paul, I want our wedding to be a day we both look back on in years, decades even, to come and still love every minute of it...” "And we will!" “Right, okay, so your voice fails during our vows or your speech and you’re gonna be okay with that, huh?” You put your hands to your hips and waited for his reply.  "No. I mean, I don't know." "My point exactly." You flung a hand up in his direction.  “But it’s another eight weeks off, plenty of time, I might be fine.” He shrugged you off like he could make it happen. You knew it wasn't possible. It had only been a week since he'd said your sweet nickname as clear as day and while more and more words were stronger and phrases longer and more clear, you knew him better than that and you knew he wasn't ready no matter how much he wanted to pissingly argue with you that the two of you could move forward as if his shooting were nothing. 

"Might. Key word." You sighed, clearly frustrated to the point of tears as they welled and stung your eyes.  “Okay, fine.” His hands flew out to his side. “Have it your way, call the venue and cancel.” Gritting your teeth, you replied, “I don’t want to fucking cancel, Paul, I just want to move it!” “You know how long in advance we had to book that place, Y/N, it could be another year before they have an opening again.” “Then we wait another year!” You sighed dramatically, “in the grand scheme of things what does it matter? Today, tomorrow, twelve months, it all amounts to the same thing.” "It matters to me, Y/N." “Okay... fine. Let’s keep the date.” She shrugs. “Let’s just go for it and when you can’t speak and start to get frustrated we’ll write our vows on a pad of paper. Or, better still how about we learn sign language?” “You’re a sarcastic bitch.” “Yeah? And you’re a stubborn asshole.”

There was a long, angry pause between the two of you, harsh jabs and insults now floating painfully in the air. The two of you glared at one another. Both of you furrowing your brows and chewing on the insides of your mouths.  Then, you sighed, again with a harsh tone. "God damned it, I hate this. I hate that we’re even having to have this conversation but we are. You were shot! You were moments from death and-“ "And now it's my fault?" He shrieked at a higher pitch than his voice typically was.  “Oh for the love of- I didn’t say that!” You balled your hands into fists, your body visibly shaking. “So what are you saying?” “I’m saying that given everything that’s happened, pushing the second biggest day of my life back is the least of my fucking concerns, Paul.” Now you were tearfully arguing, your eyes red as was the tip of your nose. You blinked hard to attempt to show your strength, not wanting to back down. “Second biggest?” “Yes, the second. Because when you...I mean the...” you swallowed back the sob that threatened to scream from you, so you choked in it. “The first was when they told me you were going to live.”

At your words, Paul blinked a little, his mouth opening before it snapped shut again and you shook your head, continuing to talk. “I know you’re hurting and struggling with all of this and it isn’t what you want but it hasn’t been easy for me, either.” You sniffed, the tears now falling from your eyes. “I might not have been the one that took a bullet to the neck but I had to sit there and watch you, barely able to live but fight so hard to stay and all I could think about was the fact I might have to live without you and for that reason alone I’d have changed places with you in a fucking heartbeat.” Your face scrunched up with heavy emotion that you'd held onto for weeks. 

“Y/N....” he tried to take a step toward you, but the damage was done for the night. You were done.  “Seeing you there, in that bed, wondering if you were gonna make it or not, it was the worse time of my life. So, yeah, frankly I don’t care when we say I do, but it can't happen the way we want it to right now. You’re alive. That’s enough for me. And right now, well it should be for you too.”

You turned on your heel and quickly left the living room. You slammed the bedroom door shut and leaned your back against it whilst you allowed your exterior to fully collapse. You buried your face in your hands as you sobbed. This wasn't what you wanted, you'd expected a better reaction from him as you'd hoped he'd have seen things the same way as you, but you were wrong. 

Now, all that was left was to go to bed. You had no fight left, no drive and right now, you didn't want to make up.

Eventually, you crawled into bed and moved no further. Sleep weighing on you heavily. 

****

When he'd watched her go, Paul was floored. The things she'd said to him had gone unspoken since he'd been home from the hospital. He knew it had been hard on her, the both of them, what he'd gone through but he'd never imagined how she'd have felt given she was always such a strong woman and that was one of the things he adored most about her. 

In frustration, he rubbed his hands over his face and decided he needed a walk. He walked around the neighborhood and back, taking in the cool air, realizing the fall weather was upon them. Shit, fall, the holidays were creeping up on them and he'd hadn't even given it a thought. 

It didn't matter, what mattered was the incessant need to push their wedding back another year, was his best guess, and that killed him. It wrecked him and he found himself getting angry all over again. He wanted to marry her now, drag her down to the Justice of the Peace and take her as his bride the minute the courthouse opened. So now, why, all of a sudden did she not want to do even so much as that. Was it cold feet? Was it him? What had happened to him? Was she ashamed of him being unable to speak? She said it was nothing of the sort but it didn't stop the thoughts from weighing on him. 

When he got back to their apartment, he found Y/N fast asleep in their bed, her back to his side of the bed. He hated that they were going to bed like this. He didn't believe in it, and if he was honest with himself, this was the first time this had ever happened in the span of their relationship. He was a firm believer in his parents golden rule, never go to bed angry and always kiss each other goodnight. Tonight he didn't get to do either. 

With a sigh, he pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it in the direction of the hamper in the corner of the room but it didn’t quite make it. Instead, it dropped about a foot or so away, ironically right on the spot where he’d dropped to one knee that November evening almost three years ago…

She'd stood in the bathroom across the hall getting ready for their dinner date, listening to him chatter on in their bedroom about whatever it was as he dressed for the night. It was mid-week and they'd both managed to be off in time for a dinner date. Paul had wanted to make it fancy, something special.

"Do you know what today is?" He asked as he tied his tie in the mirror that stood in the corner of their room.

"Er, Wednesday," she replied, loud enough for her voice to carry. 

"Of course, but try again," there was a hint of humor to his voice, sarcasm at best.

"Date night," she giggled. 

"Nope." He breathed out a nervous, shaky breath. A full two strides and he stood in front of their chest of drawers, pulling open his sock drawer, reaching for the small box in the back. 

"I give up."

He chuckled anxiously and closed the drawer. "Our anniversary." He took a knee, opening up the small box and waited. 

"What? No, that's not for a few more months," she said with a smile as she walked across the hall and into the doorway of their room. Her hands were at her ear, adjusting her earring.

She gasped seeing him on one knee, his eyes smiling but his hands shaking as he held out the ring box. The lid open to show her what he was asking. 

"Also true, but no. At exactly this minute, twenty-one months ago," he checked his watch, "I responded to a call for backup and my life changed forever. I met this woman who I just couldn't let go and that same woman took her time in giving me a chance. But I knew from the moment she kissed me that nothing would ever be the same. I fell in love that night, and I knew I wanted to make her mine, to keep on loving her forever. That is, if you'll have me forever?"

He watched as her eyes began to pool with tears as her own shaky hands covered her mouth as he spoke, a nervous silence crossing the room as she seemingly processed everything he'd said. 

Tearfully, she replied, "yes, absolutely, yes!"

Tears welled up in his beautiful blue eyes as he stood, and pulled the ring from its box, slipping it on with jittery fingers over the knuckles of her ring finger before he crashed his lips into hers for a deep, happy kiss. "I love you so much, Sugar."

With their foreheads pressed sweetly together, they both cried a little. 

"Tell me about it, Stud." She smiled.

They were late to dinner that night, both of them showing up glowing. But his surprises hadn't ended there, no. He'd had both their parents waiting on them for their eight o'clock dinner reservations to celebrate their new good fortune. It was a night he'd never forget, not ever. 

Paul glanced down at the ring on his girl’s finger as she slept. Her left hand just close enough to her face so it wasn't obscured as she still lay with her back to him while her right lay tucked up under her pillow. The five raw cut diamonds were set in white gold, a center stone with two diamonds on each side. The center cut wasn't gargantuan and it didn't need to be. She knew how hard he'd worked to buy her the simple design with the small stones it held. 

He'd wanted to upgrade it the month he'd solved his first case as a detective but she'd denied him, explaining that it didn't matter how big or fancy it was, the first one was special because of all the thought and effort he'd put forth to even consider her as his wife.

With a sigh he bowed his head and turned to go wash up, before he climbed into bed, Y/N’s back still facing him and he lay awake, looking at the ceiling until finally, an hour or so later, sleep finally took him.

**** The next morning your alarm went off for the first time in weeks. With a groan you hit the button to silence it and cracked open a sore, tear swollen eye, it was still dark outside. You rose, heading on auto-pilot to the bathroom and showered quickly before you wrapped in a robe and headed in to make yourself some breakfast. Just as you were finishing up, Paul walked into the kitchen and you stood up and left the room, not speaking a word to him, you had nothing else to say.

Unfortunately, your bad mood soured what should have been a happy return to work, a sign that your life was getting back to some form of normalcy. Instead, you were off your game, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

"Yo, Panny, you come to work or just fucking off?" Rodriguez hollered from behind you as an entire clip of used bullets lay at your feet, still hot from firing. You slammed your hand against the button that brought your target to you, all but four shots missing the target. "Fuck off, Ro." "Y/L/N!" Captain Rogers shouted from the doorway. "Outside, now." With a grumble, you rolled your eyes and holstered your weapon, but not before changing out the empty clip for a new one. The tone of his voice was not comforting. "You got your ass handed to you on the mats in hand to hand, you couldn't even shoot a decent hand at sniper poker, and now my ace shot, a skilled and decorated marksman, can't sink a suspect in range." Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek as you drew a deep breath. “Sorry Cap, must be a little rusty.” He sighed and shook his head as it dropped disappointingly to his chest. "You're not ready, go home Y/N." "Steve...." "I pushed you too far. Go home, chill the fuck out, take the weekend." You groaned, “I don’t wanna go home.” The petulance evident both in your tone and body language as you folded your arms across your chest. “I'm fine. It's just a rough start." "Go the fuck home, Y/N. Or I'll send the Mrs. after you." You couldn't stand his wife and given your relationship with Steve, it was a credible threat. Karen Rogers was as green as Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West. "I'd call you an asshole but you're my sup so...." "Now, Y/N." “Fine.” You shrugged. “I’ll go back home. Wonderful.” "I didn't miss the sarcasm," Steve called out to your back.

You flipped him the bird as you kept walking.

**** Paul slammed the door to his mom and dad’s house, storming into the kitchen. It had been a shitty morning, with Y/N not speaking to him and then that damned fucking speech and physical therapy he had to endure twice a damned week.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Big Jim looked at him, frowning a little. Paul ignored him and headed straight to the fridge, pulling out a soda.

“Paul, honey, what’s got into you?” Dot asked gently and he sighed, turning to face both his parents who were sat at the bar top, the remnants of a brunch on their plates in front of them. “Y/n wants to postpone the wedding.”

“Ah.” His dad leaned back in his chair. “And let me guess, you don’t?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Language.” His mother chastised and Paul rolled his eyes, as he paced slightly across the kitchen.

“And, you clearly discussed this in your usual, calm and rational manner?” His dad arched an eyebrow. Paul paused for a moment to eye his dad, before he resumed his movements.

With a sigh his mom spoke. “Paul, sit down for a second, quit pacing my kitchen floor.”

“I don’t want to sit down.” He shot back, petulantly.

“Paul Christopher Diskant, you sit your grown butt down, now.” His mother’s tone was sharp and with a groan he pulled a seat out from the breakfast bar, opposite his parents, and flopped down.

“Now, out with it, from the beginning.” His mother instructed and Paul let out another growl of frustration.

“I just told you. She wants to postpone the wedding. I don’t. There’s nothing else to tell you.”

“Don’t sass me!”

“I’m not sassing you, you’re just not fucking listening.”

“Hey, cut the shit. Don't talk to your mother like that.” Big Jim pointed at him, his voice stern. “You might be a grown man but I'll still kick your ass into next week, you little shit.”

Paul took a deep breath, his head hanging slightly. “Sorry Mom. It's been a really crappy couple of days.” At that he snorted. “Crappy couple of weeks one way or another.”

“Oh, Paul. I know it's not been easy.” Dot gave him a gentle smile. “But you're here with us and that's really all we care about.”

“I just feel like Y/N is getting cold feet. And that really sucks.”

“Don't be a dick.” Dot scoffed at his admission of feelings. “That girl has stood by you while you knocked on death's door.” “Mom, did you just call me a dick?” Paul looked at her, his brow raised and she nodded.

“Yes.”

“She’s not wrong.” His dad interjected.

“What is this gang up on Paul day?”

“You’re acting like a spoiled child who just had his best toy taken away.” Big Jim looked at him. “Son, she wants to postpone, not cancel!”

“Well it didn't feel that way last night or this morning. She stormed out for her first day back at work all pissed off I wasn't agreeing with her.”

“And I refer back to my previous observation. Maybe you should have attempted to discuss the issue in a calm and rational manner as opposed to shouting and getting all pissy.” Big Jim observed.

"I’m not pissy, I’m just... look, we've waited twice as long as we wanted to because she loved the venue so much, hell, I loved the venue. That place means a lot to us and it's so perfect. Everything has been perfect until now." He sighed, his voice again weak.

"What was her reasoning?" Dot pressed.

"Me." He said sadly, frustration clearly featured on his face.

"Paul, I highly doubt it's just you."

"She doesn't think I'm ready. Healthy enough. Healed enough. There's till eight weeks, Mom. Eight weeks, I can be so much better by then."

Dot reached across the granite for his hand. He took it, and held tight, like a boy needing his mother.

"My sweet, love sick boy," she softly smirked at him and he rolled his eyes .”Y/N is only thinking about you. She knows how frustrated you get when you struggle to talk and how would you feel if that happened during the vows or speeches? Look, Sweetheart, you’ve waited years for this, what’s another couple of months?” 

“Mom, it won’t be a couple of months, there’s no way that place won’t be booked up for at least another year. I just... Is it so bad that I want to marry her right now as we planned?" His voice breaking and cracking. Too much talking.

“No, Son, it's not.” Jim cut in. “But listen to yourself, your struggling to talk now after this conversation. Y/N just wants to have the wedding you both have dreamed of, and spent so much time planning. Don't take that from her or yourself. You'll look back and think, I should have waited, when I was at full strength.”

Diskant looked at his father before he sighed and his shoulders sagged a little. “Seems like I’m out voted.”

"Not out voted, just...." Big Jim couldn't come up with a reasonable example. 

But Dot interrupted, "We just think you need to think about this a little more and be open to what's going on."

"Open to what? The fact I’m now not gonna get married for another year coz some asshole shot me in the neck?" 

"Paul..."

He shrugged, "Whatever. Guess, I have some rearranging to do."

Automatically, he looked down at his phone and saw that Tom Ludlow was calling. If there were any better time to get off this hamster wheel of an argument it were now. "I gotta take this."

He stepped outside and took his call. An hour later, he was meeting Ludlow at their apartment, fresh bottles of beer in the fridge and two on the coffee table between them.

Ludlow filled him in on exactly what happened after he'd left the scene and Paul behind. He talked about how Biggs was using Ludlow to get to Wander, how Tom had killed his entire unit out of self-defence and in turn discovered all the corrupt shit Captain Wander had on Tom, the unit, multiple officers, judges, councilmen and other local politicians and prominent community leaders. He told Diskant about the stolen money, hidden in the walls of Wander's home and he explained how important Biggs seemed to think Tom was for IA and the department. 

It didn't surprise Diskant in the slightest that Ludlow's department was dirty. In fact, he'd half expected it and the realization hit moments before he was shot. The rest of Tom's story however was just insane, insane enough that he joked a movie could be made about it. 

That said, Paul trusted Ludlow from the start. And he’d clearly been right about the guy, even if helping him had resulted in him being moments from death. Painful memories aside, it was nice to see him too. They’d been through a lot, but Paul wasn’t dumb enough to figure this was a purely social call. He knew Ludlow felt guilty about what had gone down and that was partly the reason for his visit. But it was misplaced guilt, one Disco was happy to absolve him of.

"Listen, Paul, with what happened, I..."

"Hey, it's okay. Shit happens. I'm alive. I knew what I was getting into, the risks involved. You gave me an out and I didn't take it." His voice rasped a little.

"Felt like I took a kid to a gun fight." Tom sighed, tossed back some of his beer and shook his head with a slight shrug. "But you're one helluva kid. A fucking fighter. You're a good cop, even better detective and I'm sorry I pushed you so far."

“No hard feelings, man.” Disco took a slug of his beer and shook his head as Ludlow made to speak. “I mean it. I knew what I was signing up for the second the call came in. Our jobs are shady as fuck and twice as dangerous.”

“You can say that again.” Ludlow sighed. “Still, what happened was rough, I’m glad you’re through it.”

Disco gave him a smile as they clinked bottles and Ludlow’s eyes scanned the small living room, stopping on the photo on the small shelf above the television. Paul glanced at it, looking at his and Y/N’s smiling faces as they stood in his parent’s back yard, both dressed in casual jeans and t-shirts, taken a few months before he’d been shot. A time when everything had been simpler and his life on track.

“How's the Missus?” Ludlow asked and Paul took a deep breath.

"She's, uh, she's good,” he answered, deciding not to burden Ludlow with details of their argument, “first day back today, getting her ass kicked I'm sure. Rogers told her it was training day."

"That's rough. Rogers is a hard ass.” Ludlow mused before his eyes flicked down to the beer bottle in his hand. “She er, she due back any time soon?"

Paul shrugged, “I wouldn’t expect so. Why you ask?”

“Because I don’t intend to be here when she returns.” Ludlow replied. “She wasn’t very happy to see me last time.”

At that, Paul frowned. “Last time?”

“Did no one tell you I came by the hospital?”

“Well, yeah they mentioned it but-“

“Well your girl packs a mean right hook.” Ludlow ran a hand over his jaw, almost as if he was recalling the punch he was talking about.

“Wait, what? She hit you?” Paul leaned forward, deeply concerned and slightly proud.

Tom nodded, "then said that if you died, I was next."

“Dammed, she’s vicious.” Paul couldn’t help the smirk which flicked onto his face at the thought of his girl landing one on the man sat next on the small armchair opposite him. 

But the grin soon faded as it sunk in just how downright upset and distraught she must have been to do that. For all his jokes about her being a hard ass, she wasn’t one to throw punches around for no reason, in fact, given her job, she often did everything she could to avoid altercations in any shape, stating she saw enough of it at work without seeing it in her personal life too.

"Yeah, she is and frightening. But she's got good intentions. I don't fault her. I'd have popped me one too." Ludlow shrugged.

Paul took a deep breath as he pondered what Ludlow had said. His girl had that stupid nickname “Panny” for a reason, nothing much phased her. So for her to be rattled enough to sock Ludlow in the face just goes to show exactly how distraught she had been.

None of that was news to Paul, he knew all of this, and it had been pointed out to him again earlier that day by his parents. And then, in a moment of clarity, he realised that he might be being slightly unreasonable. Whilst logically, a compromise would be to perhaps cancel their current venue and forgo the huge day they had planned and book something smaller and less flashy for a few months down the line, Paul understood that she wanted this to be the best day it could possibly be for both of them. They had fallen in love with the Shutters on the Beach from the start, and had booked it with enough time to save for their dream day, even though they could have done something smaller and been married by now.

But that was a decision they had taken together, and hadn’t taken lightly, understanding that it would mean a long wait until they said “I do”, but that wait would be worth it. So, in the grand scheme of things, whilst he might not completely agree, she was right. Another year or however long made fuck all difference, even if he didn’t necessarily want to postpone, he understood.

And damned, now he felt like a right jerk.

*****

You pulled up to the curb to your duplex and frowned as an unfamiliar black car was parked outside, one you couldn’t recall seeing before. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, resting your head back against the seat as you gave yourself a moment, trying to rid yourself of the frustration of the day.

Rogers was right, you weren't ready to come back. Not yet. Or at least not after the argument you’d had. It frustrated you entirely that this one small thing had spiralled so much as to affect your job. Never, since you'd joined the force, not even since you'd been on S.W.A.T., had you been sent home for misconduct of your behavior. That angered and frustrated you more. And right now, that frustration was leveled firmly at Paul.

You knew he was angry and upset, but so were you. You were thinking logically, wanting your wedding day to be as perfect as it could be for you both, but Paul was blinded by emotion. You understood. Of course you did, it wasn’t like you wanted to postpone, hell you wanted nothing more than to become his wife but it wasn’t worth rushing if it meant that when the time came you could both make those declarations to one another without either of you worrying his voice would give out.

And it irritated you that he couldn’t see that.

Growling out loud and slamming your palms against the wheel, you shook your head. That was when you saw him, you saw the one person you unadmittedly blamed for your mood, your position and your current situation.

"What the... That mother fu..." you stopped yourself, downright pissed at seeing Tom Ludlow leaving your residence.

You waited until Ludlow pulled away before exiting your car, slinging your 'go bag' over your shoulder from the back seat. You didn't miss your fiancé tossing what appeared to be bottles into the recycling bin at the side of the duplex.

He saw you and smiled, but you did nothing to acknowledge his gesture, allowing the screen door to slam behind you.

“Babe?” Paul’s voice called after you as he followed you in. “Sugar, look, I’m sorry-“

“What the fuck was he doing here?” You dropped your bag to the floor of the small hallway and wheeled round to face him.

"What?"

“Don’t play dumb with me! Ludlow, why was he here?” Paul sighed, "He called me while I was at my parents, wanted to come by. We talked for a bit, had a couple of beers and clearly you saw him just leave." There was a pause between you. "Which by the way I heard all about how you decked him in the hospital lobby." "The fucker deserved it. He's lucky you pulled through or I would have killed him. It would have been a clean shot too, non-traceable round. I'm not a marksman for nothing." Paul rolled his eyes, “you’re being ridiculous, this-“ he gestured to his scar, “- was not his fault.” "It was and you know it was. This is all because he didn't think you could do your job on your own." “Bullshit Y/N!” Paul shot back. "He gave me an out and I said no. He told me to go home, but I told him I knew what I was doing." You could see him flush with anger and, at his surprising admission, you were shaking in it. "He what?" "You heard me." "You fucking asshole. You stupid, stupid son of a..." you couldn't bring yourself to talk about Dot like that so you carried on, your anger raging as you railed into him. “How dare you throw that at me? You had every fucking chance to come home and let him take the fuck up on his own and you still went. You still stepped right into the fucking madness when, Tom fucking Ludlow of all the people in the entire fucking department, gave you a chance to come back to me?"

“Stop it Y/N! You know as well as I do, you don't take up the badge and go 'you know what, I might die today, imma sit this one out'!”

He had you there, he wasn't wrong. You literally growled at him, your chest rumbling. Paul sighed, and swallowed, looking down at the floor before he raised his head and licked his lips as he glanced over your shoulder for a moment before meeting your eyes.

“Listen, about the wedding-“

You groaned, “I can’t do this now.”

“Just listen to me, will you?”

“Why? So you can tell me again how you don’t want to change our wedding date? Because of your pride and..."

At that something flashed in his eyes and he took a sharp inhale through his nose.

"My pride?” His voice his voice strained harshly, "Okay, how about we discuss why you do want to change the date because you’re embarrassed. You're embarrassed of me."

His comment floored you momentarily and you frowned. “Is that what you really think? That I’m ashamed of you?”

"Feels like it."

"Pull your God damn head outta your ass, Paul."

“The only person round here with anything up their ass is you, a big fucking stick about Tom Ludlow paying me a visit.” He croaked back. “What, you want me to be sat at home, helpless, waiting for you to come back? Does that fit with the narrative of why you wanna call the wedding off? Poor Paul, he can’t manage much at the moment so-“

“Fuck you!” You screamed back. “Fucking fuck you!”

Your chest heaved, your nostrils flared. You. Were. Done. You moved to leave, but as you made towards the door, his arm shot out and his hand wrapped around your upper arm.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere you’re not!” You spat, wrenching your arm from his grasp.

He grabbed you again, this time by the waist and pinned you to the near-by wall. It wasn't painful or abusive, it was just enough roughness to keep your attention.

“Get off me.” You hissed, attempting once more to rid yourself from his grip.

“Fucking calm down!” He instructed, his hands pinned yours to the wall, his chest lifting away from your body. It reminded you of how he'd treat a suspect, enough force to maintain control but not to hurt.

His words were said through clenched teeth, his own hot breath from his nose flicking your hair a touch, he was so close. His blue eyes, full of fire, blazed into yours as the two of you stood still, chests heaving from the exertion of the shouting and anger.

He was the one to break first as he slammed his lips into yours. It stole your breath as he kept you pinned against the wall.

Eventually he pulled back and you glared at him. “Prick.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed again, his voice breaking before his lips crashed back to yours. His hips ground into yours, keeping you pinned to the wall and it didn’t escape your notice that he was hard. The fucker was turned on.

But, in all honesty, no matter how pathetic it was, his display of dominance had you fluttering slightly but you were damned if you we’re going to show him that.

You felt him release your arms as his hands quickly moved to your work cargos. Your utility belt and flies were no match for his swift movements and you felt the release of their hold on you as the material flew open.

His chest and kiss kept you pinned to the wall as he undid the zipper to his denim and you quickly felt the head of his cock slip between your folds. “Seriously?” You whispered, making no attempt to stop him. “You think a fuck is gonna sort this out?”

He rutted up into you, stuffing himself right inside and jolting your body up the textured paint. The burn and stretch took your breath away, you weren’t as prepared as usual but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

"I said shut up." He growled as your arms swooped around his neck, trying to find purchase to grab and your fingers found the collar of his shirt. You gave a tug, no doubt stretching the collar but you didn't care. He thrust upward and used his hips to keep you in place as he leaned back enough to slip his shirt off, his built chest and less defined abs now on display, that necklace bouncing off his chest from the speed of his disrobing.

His eyes still blazed as you caught them in your own gaze. He looked down right feral, his skin flushed with anger. His hands flew to the hem of your navy uniform tee and in a wrench he had that over your head, his lips dropping to your collar bone and he nipped along the line, stinging bites that would no doubt leave their marks.

“Not so fucking mouthy now, are you Sugar?”

Your only reply was the 'fuck' that escaped your lips at a whimper as he spoke. The rasp of his injury mixed with the deep tone lust did to him had you fluttering in all the right places.

You weren't sure how he'd done it but your boots were unlaced and falling to the floor at his feet with a thud. You barely registered the way his fingers slipped under the hem at the leg of your cargos and slipped your socks away. He was rutting into you with such hard measure, his tongue aggressively and passionately dancing with your own. You felt a rawness against your back from the wall. He stopped kissing and fucking you long enough to tear down your pants and panties the rest of the way, leaving you in your sports bra, your nipples rock hard poking into the material. All whilst his body still pressed hard against you.

With a yelp, he lifted you and carried you the few short steps to the couch, dropping you on your ass and turning you to your knees. You caught just a glimpse of how he looked, chest naked and heaving, tattoos glistening with sweat, that look still raging in his eyes. You wagered you looked about the same because he looked how you felt. His cock glistened with your slick as he slipped right behind you, a knee on the cushion of the couch, the other boot planted into the carpet.

Without a word his hands grabbed your hips, unceremoniously repositioning you before he slammed straight back inside, jolting you forward a little as you cried out, your hands curling round the arm of the sofa, elbows locking to prevent you from falling face first into the cushions.

The angle change along your swollen walls filled you with a deep, rough pleasure and you groaned loudly as his hips rotated in a dirty grind as he bottomed out on one of his thrusts.

"Oh my... fuck..." you stuttered and behind you Paul gave a moan of his own.

“That all you got to say?” He panted, his voice cracking slightly, punctuated by his pants.

“Asshole.” You managed to whisper and with that, Paul grabbed that ponytail you sported and held tight, arching you head back towards him.

“Jesus Christ you just can’t stop can you?” His lips crashed to yours in a sloppy, filthy, tongue filled kiss before splaying his chest over your back, his hot breath against your ear as he made the most pleasurable grunts and moans, his hips pounding back and forth in a relentless rhythm.

He was close, you could feel it in the subtle rhythm change of his hips, his hand on your hip squeezing your skin, bruising it no doubt later.

"Do. It." You punctuated.

“Oh, baby girl , you should know by now,” he growled as his right hand moved from your hip, slipping around your belly and down between your legs, “not. before. you.” In no time at all his fingers had teased you to relief, your back arched as you cried out loudly, the heat and surge of your orgasm washing over you, the world spinning as you crashed over the edge.

He growled your name as he came, filling you but not stopping his relentless thrusts as if he couldn't help the automated way his body had taken over, taken you. You felt how warm your insides were at his spend, no doubt absorbing most of it. You fell forward onto the couch, his body lightly crushing you into the cushions.

As the two of you worked at recovering, his lips brushed over your skin in super soft kisses; along your shoulder, the back of your neck.

The only sound in the room were the two of you breathing heavily, a stark contrast to the screaming match you shared for the last two days. Then you felt his weight shift and a sweet kiss to the back of your neck.

"About the wedding...."

You groaned, after everything you just threw at each other and the most ridiculously, satisfying angry sex you had ever had, he wanted to start back up again. "Please don't. I don't want to argue."

He hushed you and your walls squeezed against him. He let out a low chuckle mixed with a moan. "I’m not." He kissed your shoulder. "Before you came in before like a buck shot grizzly bear, I was gonna say you were right."

You stilled and turned your head to look at Him. “I’m sorry, say that again?” You teased

He smiled and nipped at your neck, "don't be a dick."

He pulled out of you and sat down on the sofa. Your body was jello but you couldn't miss the chance to seize an opportunity to slip him back inside you and simply sit on his lap. He gave a grunt as you kissed him, soft at first, then lolled your tongue over his lips. "I'm sorry too."

“I never said I was sorry.” He playfully chuckled and this time you nipped at him, teeth grazing his jaw.

“Don’t be a dick.”

His hands moved to your hips and then up your back, pulling you against his tacky damp chest.

“Disco?”

“Sugar?”

“You don’t really think I’m ashamed of you, do you?”

"It'd crossed my mind."

"Look at me," you sat up and held his jaw in your palms. "Never, in my entire life will I ever be ashamed of you. You are the absolute strongest, bravest person I know."

"Okay."

You kissed those sweet little moles on his right cheek by his nose and just below his bottom lashes. "I love you like no other, Paul Diskant."

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and that gorgeous soft smile spread across his lips. Then you wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a kiss where you knew he'd feel and understand what you meant, what you felt. It was covered by a still healing scar, but he felt everything.

“I only want us to have the day we want, the day we deserve.” You whispered, sniffing a little as you blinked back tears.

"I'll call Shutters tomorrow. See what they can do." He whispered into your hair as he kissed your head.

“Thank you.” You lay your head on back his shoulder, his arms holding you close.

***** Part 6.1

[ladydaemon]

QUEEN OF CROWS

kaz brekker x female! reader

prologue /

A/N: Mmk so I've had this in my head for a while but am just now publishing it. If y'all like I could make it a drabble series because I honestly really like the concept. Also it's suuuuuuper short so I apologize in advance.

Summary: I really don't know how to explain this it's kind of just a backstory for the reader??? idk kinda angst not really. Just setting it up for a series I suppose.

Warnings: swearing, blood, non-descriptive rape, teenage mother idk, choppy writing.

They called her the Queen of Crows.

~

Brekker's bitch, they snarled. It was only a matter of time before he got someone pregnant. Why does he keep her around, anyway?

Poor girl, the nicer ones whispered. Such a waste of a pretty face. She would have made a nice wife.

No one really knew where Y/N L/N had come from. Only that at some point, it was a rarity to Kaz Brekker without her and the black-haired, doe-eyed child on her hip.

They made up stories, impossible rumors and tales. She can transform into a crow. She's one of those Saints from Ravka. She drinks blood instead of wine. She can kill a man with a glance. She's possessed.

Y/N didn't care. Didn't care, because they would never know.

~

A woman, he face gaunt and stretched, her face dirty, eyes lustful. There's a wailing girl in her arms, barely six months old. She looks down at it in disgust.

"How much for her?"

"How much will you offer me?"

~

The girl is fourteen now, walking down the street, late at night. Holes in her shoes, clothes worn through. Her hair is dirty, her face unwashed. A peasant.

But also a young girl, a weak girl.

Broken bottles.

Slurred laughter.

A young man.

~

It's barely been two weeks. The girl can still feel his hands on her body, her thin clothes being ripped from her skin. His fist in her hair, his drunken words.

She vomits in an alleyway, praying to whoever's listening that it isn't for the reason she thinks.

~

Her belly is round now, and her feet and back ache more than usual. She can't afford to eat, yet each day her hunger grows worse. She knows she should resent the child inside her, but she can't.

She can't.

She can't, for she loves it unconditionally.

~

The child, whom she named Raven, is three months old. Like the most of the now-fifteen girl's life, it was painful and hard, and she used up all her money for a proper medik.

But she has a daughter now, and she knows, with absolute certainty, she would do anything for her.

~

The girl is sixteen.

She has killed thirty-seven people, and she does not regret any of it.

She still lives on the streets, her hair is still matted, but she can afford food and some decent clothing for her two-year-old. On bad days, she goes hungry while she lets Raven eat, and on good days, she watches as her daughter's face breaks into a wide grin at the sight of a small piece of candy.

~

The room is lavish, for the lower streets of Ketterdam. She doesn't care who owns it, only if they have money in the drawers of their desk or food in the cabinets.

She finds a small velvet cloth jangling with spare kruge, and almost cries in relief.

A cane knocking on the stairs.

"Just what do you think you're doing, love?"

~

She isn't quite used to owning a mattress, or frankly, a room. But she is thankful, for every night she and her child go to sleep with full stomachs.

The crows outside her window are friendly enough.

~ Friends.

A foreign word, but not an unwelcome one.

Jesper, with his easy-going demeanor. Inej, with her quiet thoughtfulness. Wylan, bashful and shy, but smart and kind. Nina, ever-hungry and playful, witty and snarky. Matthias, frightening but calm.

She wasn't sure if Kaz counted as a friend or not.

Raven loves them all, though.

~

Kaz taught her how to deal, and she excels, used to snatching fruit from vendors and bread from bakeries.

She deals the cards, and the men play the game.

But one man, drunk and high and basking in the glory of winning his round, slides his arm around her waist.

No.

Nononononononono.

She reminds herself that she is safe. That someone would come to her aid if she screams. But memories come rushing in and she wants to sob because she can still recall exactly how it felt to be violated all those years ago, and what the cost was.

His hands drop lower.

No.

Nonononononononono.

A cane, soothing her with the familiarity of its heavy steps.

"Sir, I suggest you leave."

~

He squats in front of her, watching with his dark eyes as she breaks down, tears streaming down her face.

"I'm here."

~

"Am I a good mother?"

She asks the question tentatively, looking at Nina with heartbroken eyes. Raven is three now, and Y/N is seventeen. She can't help but see the children on the streets, bedecked in silk and pretty petticoats, swinging happily between both parents.

Nina takes her face in her hands.

"Absolutely."

~

The daughter is sobbing as she bursts into the first door she sees. Kaz looks up from the negotiations he was in the middle of, confused at first, anger flickering across his features as he sees the bruise on her face.

He gets out of his chair, crouches down beside with a gentle expression.

"How about we go downstairs and you show me who did this to you, and then we get Nina to help with the swelling, hmm?"

Her bottom lip juts out. "And then hot chocolate?"

He laughs then, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. "A true Ketterdam native."

~

The girl wasn't born noble. She was born out of a night of passion and then sold for drug money. She knows that. She knows that both her mother and father are far gone.

She still wants to know which she got her powers from, though.

~

"You're Grisha?"

The question is more an exclamation.

~

Her boot lands square in the man's chest, and he staggers back.

This is where she feels at home.

In the chaos.

In the streets.

In the blood.

Not with the perfect-people, with their perfect lives and their maids and servants and playthings. Not with the Second Army, with their kefta and their rules and their laws.

No.

She belongs in Ketterdam.

~

They called her the Queen of Crows.