#or. well. it would be my mother's daughter's.

[arson-is-chill-actually]

“Let me tell you a story. A young boy lived in a forest with his Mother. They owned a small cabin and a group of a few small trees around it. The rest of the forest was pure wilderness. Nobody owned it or claimed it, and the boy was too young to explore it safely.

“Time passed, and both grew older. Over time, nature went its course and some of the trees around the cabin died. The Mother and the boy, who had grown into a young man by this time, were saddened by the loss of the trees. ‘It will be alright,’ the boy said, ‘we still have many trees left.’

“More time passed, more trees fell, but it was hard to tell with the forest which trees were theirs and which trees were wild. Every time a tree fell, they told themselves that it was okay, there were plenty of trees left, but the truth was that there were barely any left that they owned.

“The boy grew into a man, and he finally left his home. He became very successful, eventually coming to own the forest around his home. He turned the forest into houses and stores and other places, and the forest was cut down, but he never touched the land that he had grown up on.

“Along the way he had a son of his own, a child who had only ever known the blues and grays of the city, and never the soft green of the forest.

“One dark day, long after the trees had bee turned into a concrete jungle, the man learned that his Mother had died. For the first time since he left his home all those years ago, he returned, and he finally realized what a sorry state it was in. There was only one tree left. It was old and sickly, on the brink of death. The beautiful greens of his childhood were gone.

“The son had come with the man, and was confused by his sadness. ‘Why do you grieve so?’ He asked, ‘It’s just some old tree. You should cut it down and turn it into something useful.’

“The man did not blame his son for his harsh words. How could the boy care for something he had never known?

“He decided right then and then that he would not let this tree die. Day in and day out he worked, clearing away rotten wood and pruning sickly branches, but that was not all that he did. He planted seeds so that more trees would sprout and grow and restore the greens of nature.

“The son questioned him again, and the man had an answer for him. ‘One day, in the far future, this place will be so much more than just one tree. It will be lush and green and beautiful. I may not live to see that beauty, but that is okay, for I already witnessed it in my youth. But you will see it. And I hope that you will thank me for working so hard to let you see it.

“This is why we are rebuilding Earth. It is our home, our origin, and those who come after us deserve to see it as well. Our sons and daughters deserve to know the beauty of the pale blue dot.”

"You humans have hundreds of planets under your control, so why do you waste so many resources trying to make that Earth planet habital? I genuinely don't understand."

[cranberrydietcoke]

bride to be - father charlie mayhew

content: 18+ !! mdni !! father charlie mayhew x female reader, coercion/dubcon, religious guilt, degradation and praise, slapping, crying, fingering, abuse of power, innocent!virgin!reader, toxic!pervy! charlie, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected (don’t be dumb yall), kinda breeding, size kink if u get a microscope

wc: 4.8k (sry i went a lil crazy)

a/n: hi yall this is literally my first fanfic ever ! drew some inspo from @hoffmansgirl @tokyoghls & @lucyisdoingfine

sundays were your favorite days. you were a good little church mouse. eager to serve. eager to please, always wearing white to early morning service. it was evidence of your innocence. father charlie always says your innocence is precious. valuable. your bible study together always left you so impressed, how a man can look at one paragraph and be able to take away so much. you had reached out to a deacon at the church, inquiring about some guidance in the word, expecting to be put in contact with a nun-in-training with less important things to do. that’s how you wound up in the priest’s office every sunday night. he said he needed to ‘connect more with his congregants.’  he knew you would believe it, and so would your parents.

the calming bustle of churchgoers finding their seats was abruptly cut off by the deep, layered boom of the organ, signaling the beginning of the service. you shift in the wooden pew, brushing your dark curls over your shoulder and adjusting the lace strap of your dress, preparing your heart to hear the word of god. the vibrations rattled deep within your chest, making you clutch the diamond cross adorning the center of it. the spotlight snapped on, an oval of light encompassing the priest as he eyed the pews almost nonchalantly, his vacant eyes wandering as he approached the pulpit, clearing his throat.

“brothers and sisters, we serve a just god,” his veiny hands gripped the worn oak of the stand, turning pale red as he supported himself, leaning forward toward the parishioners. you sat in the front row, eyes wide and glazed over as if you were looking at the god he spoke of.

“confront the reality of your desire, of your sin. because as we see in his word this morning, the wage of our sin is death.” he paused, letting out a heavy breath and loudly thumping his bible before shooting his empty gaze at you.

“what would your heart look like,” his chest fell ever so slightly, almost defeatedly, “when stripped naked before a holy god?”

charlie knew he was preaching to himself, coddling his guilt with verses as he always did. this wasn’t a message for the church, but rather for him. desire was a reality he needed to confront. the service slipped by as you hurriedly took notes in pink glitter gel script with doodles lining the sides.               ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚romans 6*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ.

“the lord be with you”

“and with your spirit”

applying a fresh layer of lip gloss, gathering your bible and smoothing the back of your dress, you and your mother shuffle out of the pew. your shoes tapping on the marble as you all headed towards the stained-glass doors where father charlie stood talking to the other congregants as they left.

“mrs y/l/n, always good to see you.” he remarked, giving a venerating nod toward your mother as the two of you stopped in front of him.

“father, beautiful service as always.” she said through a smile, leaning in to give quick air kisses on each side of his face. she looooved her some father charlie. you really are your mothers daughter. “so hows bible study goin’ with you two?” she mused, motioning to the both of you limply with her hand before placing it on her hip. his eyes snapped to yours, hands clasped behind his back as he anticipated your words, searching for reassurance in your expression.

“very well. we’ve been going through the old testament, some hard stuff. she’s a good listener.” he replied. your face stayed neutral, but inside, your nerves were tangling into knots.

“did you see both of christie’s girls got engaged? and joe’s daughter. got me thinking about y/n, her future.” your mother went on. charlie gave you a stern look as you rolled your eyes and hid your face in your hands.

“she has a lot to learn still. being a wife, i-i can’t say she’s ready. she’s so blessed to have the guidance of a godly man like you. just, uh, help her out.” she continued with a cheeky smile, patting the priest on his bicep.

now twirling a piece of hair between your fingers, you steal a passing glance at the father as your mom ushers you through the front door. “i’ll see you at seven, okay?” his finger hovered down at you.

“y-yes father! see you tonight!” you called out, voice growing fainter as you were dragged away and out into the sunlight.

the last few months had been excruciating for him. every saturday night, he dreamt about what white dress you would choose to wear, what fragrance you would spritz on your neck. he had gotten you more comfortable over time. you were showing your personality, asking more questions, confessing more sins. he loved it when you confessed. he got high on the essence of your pure shame and desperation, pleading for help on what to do, crying to him about how guilty you were. he wrote about you in his sermons, dreamt about you, imagined you bent over his desk begging for it harder. this could be his opportunity to make a real woman out of you. your mother’s words echoed in his mind as he wandered through the convent. he was determined to make you the perfect godly wife.

the orange hue of the sunset beamed through the windows on each side of the chapel, casting shadows that danced with the movement of the trees and birds flying by. the bright white of your lace-lined dress in the sunlight nearly blinded charlie as he emerged from a side door, hidden away by velvet curtains.

“y/n, just on time, as always.” his welcome was steady and warm as he approached nearer, a hint of a smile touching his lips.

the parallel clicks of his red leather boots and your kitten heels filled the still air of the room, each step slicing through the reverent silence.

“of course father, i wouldn’t miss it” you answered, looking up at him as you walked side by side to his office. his hand found its way to the nape of your neck as he led you, the softness of your tan skin and the scent of vanilla nearly making his eyes flutter. he was so wrong for this, but he didn’t care. you had to learn one way or another.

 you took your usual seat in the black leather chair opposite him, only separated by a large wooden desk. bookshelves lined the walls. a small crucifix hang in the empty space above his seat. he sat, flicking around a ballpoint pen and thumbing through his bible which sat open on the desk.

“so,” he sighed as he leaned back in the chair, legs spread as his hands glided over the thigh of his black dress pants, “tonight’s one is really important. i took some time to think about what your mother said, and i agree." he nodded, "i think a girl of your age is ready to learn.” his pointer finger tapped slowly on his right knee.

“yes, father. i think so too. i just don’t even know where to start.”

“well that’s where i come in,” he smiled, not like when he welcomed you in, it was different. almost predatory. “that’s why i’m here, my child.”  your eyes were glued to the floor, while his were busy surveying the curve of your hips as you sat. so soft. so perfect.

“what book are we gonna be in, father?” you asked absentmindedly, your long lashes brushing against your cheeks with each unhurried blink. you got comfortable in your seat as you opened your bible, pink faux leather full of sticky notes and neon-highlighted prophecies, promises, and judgments.

“we’ll actually be flipping back and forth a bit tonight,” he explained, clearing his throat and adjusting his papers. “the goal here is that you leave feeling prepared to be a wife, one that serves the lord, and her husband. do you understand?”

you nodded, your glossy eyes locked with his. “good. can you go to colossians 3 verse 18 and read that for me, please, sweetheart?”

“wives, submit yourselves unto your husbands, as is fitting in the lord.” you read.

“yes, submission. the definition is skewed nowadays.” he muttered, waving his pen around musingly. “christ did submit to father god, although the son has no less authority. you see?” he leaned forward, gripping the edge of his desk to stand up, circling to your side, bible in hand.

“go to first corinthians chapter 7, it says ‘the husband should fulfill his marital duty to his wife, and likewise the wife to her husband.” he chuckled lightly as you highlighted the verse in lavender. this poor girl has no fucking clue, he thought as he slid his papal ring off. that’s what drew him to you in the first place. he reclined against the side of the desk, legs crossed at the ankle.

“what does that mean father? how will the duties of a godly woman change once she’s married?” your pitch heightening with each question. “like cooking and cleaning? are they the same for bo-“ with a raised hand, he stopped you in your words.

“yes, y/n, yes. you’re eager aren’t you?” he breathed out, a wide grin plastered on his face. “it does include domestic things but also emotional things. honest communication, faithfulness…and physical things too.” he traced his words as he looked at you, “that’s what really changes when you get married.”

his eyes lit up as your jaw went slack at the realization of what he meant.

“oh…i see.” your shoulders slumping and eyes drifting to the marble floor. he could feel the disappointment in your sigh.

“where’d that smile go, sweet girl? what’s wrong?” he chided, a faux frown on his face.

“i just, that’s- i don’t know.” you huffed, “how am i supposed to know what to do on my wedding night? it’s just so unfair. an-and scary!”

“well,” he let out a shallow breath, reaching out to tuck a silky strand of stray hair behind your ear, “i can help you with that too, sweetheart. if you let me.” his fingers curled around the nape of your neck, steady and with purpose. his eyes bore into you as he tilted his head, attempting to coax your gaze up towards him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet them. the foreign heartbeat between your legs became a knotted bundle in your stomach, making you squeeze your thighs together. he traced his index finger down your collarbone, gripping the chain of your necklace between his fingers. he stopped, thumbing at the karats of your crucifix, lost in thought.

he drops the charm with cold indifference, then turns, pacing in circles. “first corinthians seven- thirty four. a married woman is concerned about the affairs of this world, how to please her husband.” the bass in his voice snapped you out of your daze, finally looking up to return frantic little nods and blinks.

“right, o-okay. but father,” you said, lowering your voice ,“i’m not married.” your eyes scanned around dramatically as if to search for witnesses, “we-we’re not married.”

he neared you, placing both hands on each arm of the leather chair, trapping you in. “we can pretend, okay? this’ll be how we conduct our lessons.” he could feel the heat of your breath mixing with the strawberry on your lips. “your mother said you have a lot to learn.” he said almost accusingly, but full of pity. “no more questions, sweet thing. i’m here to guide you, remember?” his words were coated in a nauseating sweetness, seeping into your impressionable mind and persuading you to trust him.

the scent of his cologne was overpowering, making the glossy stain in your baby pink cotton panties worsen. he was only inches away, his shadow encapsulating you as his eyes roamed your face, gauging every reaction as he carefully crept his fingers to play with the lace hem of your dress. sunday’s best.

“have you ever touched yourself, y/n?”

your breath caught in your throat. maybe this would have felt different from the safe shadows of a booth, but this confession was much different. embarrassment sent warmth rushing to  your cheeks as you looked through father charlie rather than at him. you nodded your head, “only once.” you spoke, a broken kind of whisper. he was tracing spirals into your thigh, immediately pausing after hearing that you, the purest little flower he’d ever known, had snuck under her nightgown to play with her pussy. immediately and without moving his head, his eyes flicked up, a sick smile curling on his lips.

“you poor thing…you didn’t cum?” he said with faux sympathy. your eyes widened, almost popping out of your head, as the cross resting just above your cleavage swayed with each breath. up and down. up and down. you shook your head, tears of vulnerability stung in your eyes. “hey…hey. it’s okay! we all start somewhere, right?”  he cooed, almost manic as his hand raised to pass a thumb over your blushed cheek. “i promise by the end of our sessions you’ll feel prepared, yeah? the duties of marriage include knowing your own body. and your husbands. that’s not a problem, is it?” his fingers laced with yours, thumbs tracing the valleys of your knuckles. your hand was so small in his.

“if that’s what the lord calls me to do, i have to listen.” you choke out, a single tear falling down onto the freckles of your thighs. he had never given you a reason to be afraid, but you were, the heaviness on your chest becoming unbearable.

after a long pause and a heavy sigh he whispered, “i knew you would be a good girl, so obedient,” wiping the stain from your face. “get on your knees for me, like you’re gonna pray.” he mumbled, drunk off his own words. hesitantly, you rose and knelt to the floor, palms flat on your thighs as your frightened gaze fixed on the man before you. a man of god. a man you could trust.

“let’s get some practice in, okay?”

his voice was soft but left you understanding you had no say in it. he bent down, his fingers gently hooking the straps of your dress, sliding them slowly down your shoulders until the fabric gathered at your waist. you watched him as he did so, his frenzied eyes not matching the tenderness of his touch. he groans at the sight of your barely covered chest, lace and gems adorning your push-up bra. he undid his buttons with a swiftness you’ve never seen before, now shirtless in front of you.

standing upright, he delivers two tiny taps to your jaw. light, but deliberate. urging you to open up. this was okay. you were husband and wife. the clinking of his belt being slipped off just sounded like wedding bells to you. by the time he shimmied and stepped out of his pants, you were spellbound - mind soft and yielding, ready to mold to whoever he needed you to be.

 your mouth lay half open, satin tongue hanging over your bottom lip and leaving it with a glossy sheen. standing over you, he grasped your jaw, tilting it up to guide you as he released a string of spit that connected his lips to your tongue as he hummed in approval. he clasped his thumbs on the band of his briefs until they fell around his ankles, freeing himself. your tears multiplied as you saw the inches slap onto his v line, twitching and bobbing in the air.

“see, this is your fault. open up real wide f’me.” he huffed as his thumb went to align himself with your mouth, tapping the tip on your tongue. a confused whimper escaped your gaping mouth as he pushed his length further in. musk and salt sat on your tastebuds as he instructed you to tuck your lips, collecting your hair in his fist as you tried to gloss his entire dick with spit. he started off slow, seeing you furrow your brows and gag, looking up at him for approval. he thrust into you as he guided your head, the grip on your hair making your scalp burn. your moans of protest were muffled as he fucked your face, tears now streaming down your chest. you tried pushing at his thighs, digging your almond french tips into the muscle, but it only made him go harder.

“nuh-uh, you’re gonna have to learn.”

as his head massaged the back ridges of your throat, his large hands cupped each side of your head with a commanding grasp, forcing the tip of your nose to meet his happy trail and holding you in place. his chest glistened with sweat, heaving as he looked down at you with absent eyes. the room was humid as your nose drew in wet, shaky breaths, gagging around this thick length.

“do you see now, why i have to do this to you?” he cooed, looking down as you struggled to breathe, blowing bubbles of slobber that collected at the base of his shaft. your face screwed as you sobbed and squirmed on the cold floor, dick down your throat. “you’re wildly unprepared.” he hissed, shaking his head, unimpressed. “look at you,” he spat, pulling you off, leaving you gasping for air as if each inhale would be the last. “why fight it?” grabbing your cheeks, causing your lips to pucker, all swollen and slick. you flinched at his touch. “a good wife isn’t supposed to be defiant. we just read that.” he scoffed, “i don’t even think you were paying attention.”

you clenched your eyes shut to avoid looking up at him, just shaking your head. “i was, i promise i was!” you attempted to cry out, but all that escaped was whiny mumbles.

 “no, no, look me in the face. give me some fucking respect,” he muttered, tightening his grip on your jaw, yanking it close. you forced your eyes open to meet his. breath hot on your lips, he was growing visibly more impatient. his irises were pure black, like that of a shark. one that could sniff out innocent little girls like human blood.

“i see righttttt through you, tryna hide behind your rosary, your psalms, your fucking dresses.” he mocked, hand leaving your face to tug the remainder of the lace mess down your legs, leaving you in your bra and panties. “but i see you. i see what kind of slut you are. looking up at me in the pew, coming to my office until well after sundown. fuckin’ asking for it.” he stepped back, his narrow eyes examining you in disgust.

“father- no i just, please,” you choked out, shame turning into stickiness between your legs.

“please?! please what? i’m exposing your sin!” his voice rose to a yell, dragging his hands down his face before gesturing toward you dismissively as you sat motionless on the floor. “no manners whatsoever,” he sighed out. your face dropped as he tapped the wood of his desk. “come, sit. spread those legs.” he commanded.

without thought, you rise from the floor and take a seat where he had told you to, ankles dangling in the air as you shyly open your thighs. anything to make him happy again. he bends over, gently running two fingers over your clothed pussy, noticing a wet mark right in the middle. “oh wow, i knew you wanted this,” he chuckled, holding one leg open while the other rubbed circles into your panties. “so wet, so ready.”  

hiding your face in your hands, you watched through your fingers as he focused on the growing puddle in the fabric of your underwear, attention solely between your legs. “this is the y/n i know…mhm.. always so good for me. i don’t know what got into you, huh?” he hummed. you could feel his words on the inside of your thigh as he continued to study you, making you whimper. before you could question anything, he was sliding the boyshorts past your knees, whispering praises as you kicked them off.

“fuck,” he moaned out, breathlessly admiring you while running his hands up your stomach to your chest. he traced the wire of your bra to the back, unclasping it with a pop and discarding it on the floor. your tiny, uneven breaths filled the air, giving way to quiet moans under his touch. he glided his hands on the underside of your thighs, spreading you gently with his index and middle fingers.

“awh, my pretty pink girl. so pure.” he spoke almost to himself as he bent over, playing in your folds. deep down, you knew you shouldn’t let him do this. but it felt so good. and he knew best, right?

his fingers ran the wetness up and down your pussy before working in his middle finger, forcing you to hear yourself, how bad you really did want this. you gasped, sitting up on your hands and looking down at the priest who was now pumping his whole finger into you. words tangled on your tongue, babbling and moaning with furrowed brows.

“ohh my god,” you managed to squeak out. he softly shook his head, never slowing down his pace.

 “no, baby. just me n’ you.”

he pulled his finger out, making you clench at the emptiness. encircling your slit, he lined up a second finger, slowly stuffing it into your leaky pink hole. you cried out, digging your nails into the wood of the desk and writhing against him. twisting his fingers in you, he started to speak. “this is the next step in becoming a real adult, y/n. as your priest, i have a responsibility….” his free hand dug into your hip, holding you in place to stop your squirming, “a responsibility to make sure you’re educated on certain things. ready for the real world.”

his fingers continued their assault on your pussy, fucking you open as your feet stirred aimlessly in the air, helpless and overwhelmed. “father f-fuckk i - ” you stuttered, attention being brought back to reality by a rough slap, one so hard it caused your ear to ring. your fingers trembled against your burning cheek, lips parted and eyes wide with panic.

 “watch your fucking language, how do you expect to find a husband with a mouth like that?” he huffed, removing his hands from you completely. how ironic. you sniffled and nodded, pushing yourself up, wanting to bridge the distance left by his absent touch. his thumb gripped your chin, guiding your eyes to his. “i think you’re ready though, don’t you?” his fat tip was now rubbing up and down your petals, as you babbled i can’ts and i dunno’s.

he lay his length against your stomach, touching your belly button, perversely rubbing it against the smooth of your skin. you rolled your hips against the desk, staring up at him. “will it fit?” you mewled, cupping your heavy tits in your hands and pressing them together. you were learning so well. he led himself to circle your clit, collecting your glaze and spreading it around. you threatened to cry out, the only thing stopping you being the sharp bite on your bottom lip.

“yes angel, i’ll make it fit…just a part of it” he breathed out, softly pressing his lips to your forehead. “this is what husbands and wives do..” trailing off, trying to distract you as he stuffed the tip in.

your gasps and whimpers of discomfort subsided to pornographic moans as he slowly worked himself in, bucking himself against you until there was nothing left to fit. cradling the back of your head in both hands, he forced you to watch yourself get filled up as he stretched you with slow, grinding movements. you brought your knees to your chest, spreading yourself more for him, little ah ah ah’s drifting from your tongue.

“thaat’s my girlll,” he hissed, knowing he was holding back. “now..” he paused, making you squirm your hips in search of friction, hands still entrapping your skull, eyes piercing yours, “i’m gonna fuck you stupid, okay? and you’re gonna be grateful.” his soothing tone not matching the brutality of his words.

your head nodded mechanically with a vacant stare, mouth agape. maybe it was a good thing your priest was taking your virginity. he was a man of god, after all. his grip on your scalp tightened as he repeatedly slammed into you, hitting that deep, spongy spot that had never been touched before. he angled you to watch every stroke, pressing on the bulge in your lower tummy. “you see that, dumb girl? does that feel good?” he grunted out, filling the room with sloppy noises each time he thrust into you.

“y-yess, soo good,” you squealed, leaving a creamy ring around his shaft.

another slap. but he refused to let up on your cunt, quickening his pace and violently snapping his hips against the back of your thighs. tears welled in the corner of your eyes as you got filled up.

“yes who?” he demanded, almost growling as he pressed his chest to your legs, folding you in half.

“yes fatherr, feels so so good, pleasepleaseplease,” you had no clue what you were even begging for at this point. his length was relentlessly sliding in and out, beating up your cervix.

“mhm, our little secret. our little fucking secret,” he whispered on repeat. like a mantra. a perverted one-on-one devotional. his hands, large and assuming, glided over your body before finding your throat, squeezing both sides. waves of pleasure washed over you, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “hnnmpphh- i can’t, please- it’s too much,” your hands rake at the muscle of his chest, searching for any mercy.

“ohh, sweet thing, you’ve been taking it so well.”  he soothed, finally slowing down for only a moment, “no fussing, just cum for me.”  

he immediately resumed brutalizing you, thumb circling your swollen clit. both legs spasmed as you came undone, juices leaking down onto the polished wood. any rational thought had left your brain, as a matter of fact, so had any thought at all. your absent, glassy eyes crossed and rolled with each motion, eyebrows knitting together in a blissful frown. he moaned shakily, making sure you felt every inch.

“tell me what god said to noah after the flood.” he grunted out, lips ghosting over yours, hand still tight on your neck. you were barely coherent, essentially speaking in tongues. a harsh slap landed to your cheek, jolting you into reality from the haze of your orgasm.

“c’mon kid, genesis 9, stay with me,” he snapped.

“be fruitful…” you yelped, straining through clenched teeth and a constricted airway, cupping your cheek, “increase in number, fill the earth.”

“mhm, we’re gonna make him proud, okay?” he coaxed you to agree. he knows you’re too braindead to comprehend, just obediently nodding your little head to whatever he asks.

“gonna give you my cum till it takes,” he pants out, loosening to grip on your throat to lock his hands to your hips, guiding your body up and down his inches with relentless force. your head bobbing loosely as he slammed into you over and over and over again. “god, fuck- gonna put a fuckin’ baby in you,” his hips stuttered, spilling his seed into you and pounding it deep into your cervix.

pulling himself out with a sigh, he watched with hooded lids as his cum dripped out of you in pearlescent globs. his hands smoothed the mess of hair on your head, sealing it with a tiny kiss before cleaning you up and retrieving your panties from the floor without words. his hands enveloped your waist, lifting you effortlessly to your feet beside the desk as your knees faltered. he bent down, holding open the legs of the undergarment for you to step in, gripping onto his shoulder for balance as you do so. next the dress. then the heels, sitting you in the black leather chair as he slides them onto each foot, clasping your ankle strap before placing a wet kiss to each knee. a small act of worship.

“my little bride-to-be...” he whispers, now standing over you, caressing your smooth skin with his thumb, trying to drink in the hollow stillness in your head.

“same time next sunday, alright?”

[lichenes]

I heard you were begging for Silco asks and I will take literally anything.

Jealous Silco or Jealous Reader (bonus points if Silco doesn't notice that someone is hitting on him)

I also feel like Silco would be an amazing dance partner/classical waltz style or some intimate partner dance but would only ever do it in private.

Silco with a reader who is maternal with Jinx ❤️

Smut or fluff, whatever you feel like writing I just want to treat that man right 👍

To all the anons that requested Silco i will be getting on that soon!! Now I present to you: Silco looking for a mum for Jinx, any takers?

This gif has such a fucking GRIP on me it's driving me insane. How can pixels be SO F I N E. Anyway per your request anon this is Silco x reader x (kinda) platonic!Jinx :D!! SILCO DESERVES SO MUCH LOVEEEE. I don't care if he commited like... actual war crimes, what does AIR mean to my LUNGS. CW: brief cursing!! not much besides that, pretty tame, kinda ooc.... sorri... wc: 1261 .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚

The Zaunite air was filled with an unrelenting heaviness. Each day, despite Silcos best efforts, the food was getting scarcer and people were more and more scared. It wasn’t ever too much. He could handle it no doubt. Right?

Jinx was sitting on his desk and talking his ear off.

She was enjoying her time with him while Silco was quietly taking care of some documents. Spending time together with Jinx was one of the few things he enjoyed in life. Sure, his unique appearance made many women drawn to him and most people in Zaun felt nothing but respect for the man but he never developed anything meaningful, anything… tangible. Aside from Jinx he had no one. 

The stream of words being let out of Jinx at, at least, 200 words per minute stopped when there was a knock at the door. “Come in.” Said Silco with his usual sombre tone. He always filled the room with a certain coldness few were able to tolerate or enjoy, for that matter. Sevika entered the room. “Someone wants to talk to you.” 

He nodded, giving her permission to let them in. 

During the conversation with whoever was sitting on the other side of the desk Jinx kept returning to the thought that brushed by her mind that morning. Shouldn’t someone as undoing as a daughter have a mother by her side? Jinx was good. Good at what she did, good at killing and even better at creation. She lacked the maternal hand that was supposed to lead her through life even if she wasn’t exactly aware of what she was looking for she needed someone to guide her through her life. 

On the other hand, Silco, the effective ruler of Zaun, didn’t have anyone to share the parental burdens of life with. The swooning crowd of power-hungry women in the city weren’t a good choice for a mother. Not for someone as unpredictable as Jinx. 

Jinx was convinced you fell from heaven for her, how could he not see it? A godsend perfect for what she needed.

The Last Drop was busy. People talking, the air stuffy with Zaunite tensions, dilemmas and the smoke being extruded out of the lungs of many. He noticed you before, an everyday woman, providing her parents with whatever they needed in their old age. He didn’t do many of the job interviews himself, his lesser henchmen took care of that, but the barkeep of The Last Drop was the person he came to care for. 

“You’re hired.” He said at the end of your chat.

You were used to people chatting you up while you were behind the bar, an additional drink, boredom or true infatuation were all at play here. Never… this. “What can I get you?” You said when someone took the only free stool at the bar. When they didn’t answer you so you turned around to check them out. If they were a danger to the well being of the people inside or the bar itself you’d rather they threatened the guards than you. 

What transpired was truly bizarre. You expected to see anyone here, Sevika in a foul mood, Jinx with a gun to your head or even one of the lesser lackeys of the many people running this city. Silco? Silco was last on your list.

You froze in place almost dropping the pint you were holding. Quickly you put it on the counter in front of the person who ordered it and turned your attention to him. He looked at you with an unusual intent, normally when you’d look over to his usual spot he’d be smoking and surveying the room with his ice-cold vision, today there was… need. 

You were stuck in place not being able to even utter a word in such presence. After a moment more of scaring you into an early grave he spoke. “Come to the back, someone will take your place for tonight.” Suddenly terror turned into anxiety. “Am I being replaced?” He only stood up and went around the bar to presumably accompany you there. 

Your heart was pounding and your hands were sweaty, this could be your execution you realised. Your mind was going a million miles a minute, combing through all your wrongdoings and if you were eligible for any pardon. 

He didn’t enjoy that scared expression on your face, he enjoyed them on most people with exception to Jinx and well… you. “Nothing to be afraid of, lady.” Said Jinx toying with her gun. That definitely didn’t mitigate your concerns. “She’s right.” Said Silco somehow appearing behind you. You jumped at his sudden intrusion into your personal space. 

Explaining what they wanted was certainly difficult. You had a lot of questions regarding your new position as a… babysitter for Jinx? You’d never say that out loud for fear of swift death. The payment was lucrative as well so you decided on accepting the offer. At the end of the talk you were more or less familiarised with what this job entailed, along with being a co-parent to Silco, you were to be on their beck and call, still you retained the position of the barkeep. 

As all people you were a bit afraid of Jinx. Looking at her she was inconspicuous, the braids giving her a child-like wonder look to her. Underneath you could feel a profound sadness sitting inside of her and you were determined to make this weird little fucked up family a happy one at least. 

You were happy to tend to wounds, look after The Last Drop when needed and listen to Jinx talk for hours. With time, Silco grew fond of you. Your mannerisms of a caring and doting parental figure, despite all which burdened you, would soon make him swoon. 

One night after closing when you were wiping down tables Silco walked in, in an unusually good mood. He leaned on one of the clean tables. “Hello. How was your day?” You asked mindlessly, not noticing him inching closer and closer to your figure. Nobody else was in the room when it all happened. 

You weren’t the best at concealing your growing affection towards Silco. The longing stares weren’t doing you any good and the fact that somehow he kept catching you was even worse. You were sure your position was soon to be terminated. 

He spun you around and caged your body between his own. His breath was warm and falling just over your chest. “Silco?” You dared. 

“You make me sick with worry sometimes.” He was… smiling? Silco was smiling? You couldn’t make anything out, your head was spinning from the proximity and his cologne. “Look at me.” He demanded grabbing your chin and tilting it upwards. “I’ve got a question.” You nodded. “Do you want to dance?” You were stunned.

The tables were moved to the sides as Silco put a few coins into the jukebox and began striding towards you with the delicacy and grace of a cat. You put your arm on his shoulder and grasped his other one. He led you around the room to the song being played and amidst the growing tension, brought his lips to yours, hesitantly. The kiss was magical, you could feel yourself rising above the roof when he finally closed the gap. You reciprocated the kiss and as the song faded away he put his hands on your cheeks trying to get as close to you as possible.

He thought he’d lost the spark and now, here you were. 

.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ masterlist

[eu-nicola]

enemies

summary: the love-hate relationship between Rafe and you

warnings: small mention of violence

word counter: 4151

author's note: english is not my first language

The first time you met Rafe Cameron, you were barely six years old. You clearly remember how his stepmother, Rose, welcomed you into her home with a perfect smile, while your mother insisted that you play with him and Sarah so that you wouldn’t be alone. 

The Cameron house was as intimidating as its miniature owner. Rafe was nine years old and had an attitude that made him seem much older. He looked down at you from the top of the stairs as if you were an intruder, someone who didn’t deserve to be in his space. 

“She’s the Davies’ daughter?” he asked in that mocking tone that would become his trademark. 

“Yes, and I want you to be nice to her.” Rose ruffled his hair before turning to you, but Rafe’s gaze was already fixed on your shoes, which were muddy from playing outside before coming in. 

“I hope she doesn’t touch anything, Rose.” His voice was dry, as if he was already tired of you before he really met you. 

From that day on, your relationship with him was marked by constant clashes. Every visit to the Cameron house felt like a cold war disguised as childish games. He always found ways to make you feel out of place, like the time he took your doll from your hands while you were playing with Sarah and threw it across the garden.

“If you don’t know how to play well, don’t play.” That phrase of his stuck in your mind.

In adolescence, the gap between you grew wider. While Rafe became the most popular boy among the Kooks, you began to spend more time with the Pogues. Your visits to the Cameron house became less frequent, and when they coincided, things always ended badly.

“Look at you, you’re a Pogue now.” His tone was always hurtful, accompanied by that arrogant smile that got on your nerves.

“And you’re still the same idiot as always.” Your response was almost automatic, as if after so many years the discussions between you were a rehearsed routine.

But the real problem wasn't just his words. It was the way he always found a moment to annoy you. During a beach party hosted by Kooks, for example, Rafe made sure your drink ended up spilled all over your new dress.

But it wasn't all enmity, when the search for gold began, your world became more complicated. You spent your days with the Pogues, planning, looking for clues, and trying to avoid Rafe, who seemed willing to do anything to get the treasure. The tension between you, which was already high, skyrocketed. It wasn't just childish enmity now; it was real danger.

Rafe had no limits. His eyes were always filled with that spark of arrogance, but behind it was something darker, something that made him unpredictable. Despite that, you never imagined you'd find yourself in the position you found yourself in one afternoon in the dense woods surrounding the Outer Banks.

You were following a trail of marks on the trees along with JJ and Kiara when you heard a noise. You broke away from the group, promising them you’d be back quickly. What you found was Rafe, kneeling beside a steep slope, holding his leg in a wince of pain. The ground beneath him was wet, almost muddy, and it looked like he might slide down any second. 

You stopped dead in your tracks. Part of you wanted to turn on your heel and pretend you hadn’t seen him. After all, Rafe wouldn’t have done the same for you, would he? But another part, that part you always tried to stifle, knew you couldn’t just leave him there. 

“What are you doing here?” Rafe snapped at you as you cautiously approached. His voice was heavy with distrust, but there was also a hint of relief he tried to hide. 

“I should be asking you the same thing. What happened?” You couldn’t keep the tone of your voice from being harsh. After all, he had done a lot of things that warranted your hatred. 

“I slipped. My leg… I can’t move it.” His face was pale, and his hands shook slightly as he tried to brush away the mud that covered his pants.

There was a long silence. You could have left him there. You could have turned and gone back to the Pogues. But something inside you wouldn’t let you.

“This doesn’t mean I owe you anything,” you said as you crouched down beside him.

Rafe looked at you in disbelief. “Are you helping me?”

“Shut up and don’t make it harder, Cameron.”

You offered him your arm and helped him up, leaning his weight on you as you slowly moved forward. It was an awkward process; his size made each step harder. But there was something odd about the silence you shared, a momentary truce amidst all the hostility.

When you finally dropped him off somewhere safe, away from danger, Rafe looked at you with a mix of wounded pride and something you couldn’t quite place.

“I’m not going to thank you,” he said at last, breaking the silence.

“I didn’t expect you to,” you replied, wiping the sweat from your brow. You turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“Wait.” His tone was softer than you’d heard before, almost vulnerable. You turned slowly to look at him.

“What?” you asked, tired.

“Did you see anything?” His question was direct, his gaze piercing.

You understood immediately. Rafe wasn’t just hurt; he was there for something related to gold. Maybe he’d found a lead, something he didn’t want the Pogues to know about. You could have told him the truth, that you’d noticed a map in his pocket when you helped him, but you chose to lie.

“No, I didn’t see anything.” Your voice was firm, although inside you felt a small knot of guilt.

Rafe seemed to relax a little, although he still looked at you with distrust.

Later, when the Pogues found a clue that fit too well with the area where you had seen Rafe, he understood what you had done. Someone, perhaps Sarah, told him that you were near the area when you separated from the group. It didn’t take much for him to put the pieces together.

The next time you saw him, his expression was completely different. There was no vulnerability or truce anymore, only fury.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you,” he snapped at you, coming dangerously close.

“What are you talking about?” You tried to remain calm, although you knew exactly what he meant.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You lied to me. You took what was mine!” His voice was filled with rage, and though you knew it was unfair, there was something in his eyes that made you feel a pang of remorse.

“I don’t owe you anything, Rafe.” Your response was cold, though inside you felt more affected than you wanted to admit.

Rafe was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on you. Finally, he took a step back, but not before making his feelings clear.

“Don’t ever cross my path again, Pogue.”

That was the beginning of a new phase in your feud, more bitter and personal than ever.

Your relationship with Rafe Cameron had reached a point where hatred seemed to be the only thing that united you. After your “betrayal” during the search for gold, any vestige of truce between you vanished. Although you would never admit it, there was something inexplicable that brought you back to square one: an enmity filled with tension, resentment, and something deeper that neither of you understood.

One of the worst fights you had occurred during a rainy night in the Outer Banks. The Pogues had been following Rafe, convinced that they had found another important lead to the gold. The chase led them to an old abandoned port, where you finally confronted them face to face.

“Always after me, aren’t you?” Rafe looked at you from the shadow of a warehouse, his soaked hair sticking to his forehead. The sound of the rain beat hard against the metal roof, but nothing could drown out the intensity of his voice.

“You have no right to that gold, Cameron.” Your words came out loaded with defiance as you clenched your fists. You knew you were probably playing with fire by facing him, but something in you couldn’t stop.

“And you are?” he replied, taking a step towards you. His eyes, dark under the rain, were filled with rage. “What makes you think you’re better than me, Pogue?.”

“For starters, I don’t try to kill people for him.” Your words made him laugh, a dry, bitter laugh that made you feel a chill.

“You think so?” Rafe leaned a little towards you, his voice lowering to an almost whispering tone. “You know perfectly well that you would do anything to protect your own, too. We’re not that different, even if it pains you to admit it.”

The argument soon turned physical. He tried to take the map from you, and you fought back with all your might. It was as if you were both so consumed by rage that nothing else mattered. You fell to the ground, feeling the cold wetness of the cement against your back, as Rafe tried to hold you down.

“Let me go, you moron!” you screamed, kicking him in the stomach.

“Give me the damn map!” he roared, clinging to your wrist.

For a moment, you thought it would all end there, that one of you wouldn’t walk away from this fight. But something changed. Rafe looked you straight in the eyes, and for a moment, his grip softened. He looked confused, as if he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t keep hurting you.

Finally, he let go of you and stood up, breathing heavily.

“I can’t do this.” His voice was barely a whisper, and it took you a few seconds to process what he had said.

“What…?” you were speechless, still lying on the ground.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, taking a few steps away from you.

“Go away. Take the damn map and go away.”

But not everything always ended in a truce. There was another time when it was you who had to decide between helping him or letting him face the consequences of his own actions. It was during a smuggling operation that Rafe had organized to finance his obsession with gold. You found him cornered in an alley, with a group of men who clearly did not have friendly intentions.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped at you when you appeared at the end of the alley. He was bleeding from a cut on his eyebrow, but he still maintained that defiant attitude.

“I saw your truck nearby.” You approached cautiously, analyzing the situation.

The men paid you no attention at first, but soon realized you could be a problem. One of them advanced towards you with a menacing smile.

“Another friend of yours, Cameron?” he said mockingly.

“Get out of here, Pogue. I don’t need your help.” Rafe’s voice was firm, but there was something in his gaze that made you stay.

Despite everything that had happened between you two, you couldn’t just leave him there. You picked up a rock from the ground and threw it hard at one of the men. It was enough to distract them and give Rafe a chance to fight back.

You helped him escape, though as soon as you turned the corner, Rafe turned to you, furious.

“Why do you keep butting into my business?” he shouted, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“Because I’m not like you, Rafe. I can't let someone die, even if they're an idiot like you.” Your answer made him let out an exasperated sigh, but he didn't say anything else.

In the end, it was always the same. They hurt each other, they hated each other, they betrayed each other... but they also always found a way to forgive each other. You didn't know why you did it. Maybe it was because you saw something in Rafe that others didn't see, or maybe it was because deep down you knew you weren't as different from him as you wanted to believe.

The only thing you knew for sure was that, no matter how hard you tried to hate him, something always made you go back to him. And the worst of all was that Rafe seemed to feel the same way.

Rafe Cameron drove you crazy in every possible way and that made you uncomfortable and annoyed, despite always finding gold on your path, you also found it on your path when you were calm, reminding yourself that you couldn't get rid of it even if you wanted to.

There were nights when the air was so thick that it was hard to breathe. The humidity was sticking your clothes to your skin, but it wasn't just the weather that made you feel this way; it was him.

Rafe Cameron always managed to find you, even when you didn't want to be found. His mere presence seemed to charge the atmosphere with an almost palpable tension, something that only existed between the two of you. Like that time on the dock, under the dim light of a broken streetlight. You were alone, waiting for JJ and Pope, when you heard their footsteps, firm, sure, approaching.

Your body tensed before you turned around. There he was, standing, with that arrogant posture that you detested so much. His messy hair and clenched jaw gave you every reason to hate him more than you already did. But as you looked at him, feeling his gaze sweep over every detail of you, there was something different, something that made you stop.

There was anger in his gaze, yes, but there was also something deeper, something dark that you recognized because you felt it too. Your hands clenched into fists, not because you wanted to hit him—though that was of course a tempting option—but because you wanted to stop the impulse that made you think about getting any closer than necessary.

It was a constant tug-of-war. One moment you wanted to push him into the water, make sure he disappeared from your life forever. But then, a part of you wanted to do the complete opposite, you wanted to get closer, erase the distance between you, and find out if that tension could transform into something more.

Rafe leaned against one of the dock posts, looking at you with a mix of defiance and curiosity. Everything about him seemed designed to provoke you. His gaze fixed, his shoulders relaxed but ready to move at the slightest hint of threat. It was so unbearably irritating, and yet, there was something you couldn’t ignore.

The wind blew hard, and you felt a chill run down your spine, but it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver. It was that unmistakable feeling of being on the edge of something dangerous, something you couldn’t control.

You wanted to kill him. For all the times he had made you feel less than, for every hurtful word, for every betrayal and fight. But at the same time, you wanted to get close enough to know if that spark you felt between you could catch fire.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

Instead, you took a deep breath, ignoring how your heart was pounding. You turned your back on him, your steps firm on the wood of the dock as you walked away. You knew that if you stayed one more second, the line between hate and desire could blur forever. And you weren't ready to face what that meant.

You felt him stand still, watching you as you left. You didn't need to look back to know that that feeling would continue to haunt you, just as much as he did.

And you were right, a few days later that line blurred.

There was a storm that night, one of those that seemed to split the sky in two with each flash of lightning. The rain was pounding on the roof of the old abandoned cabin where you had taken shelter, trying to escape the chaos that the Pogues and Rafe had caused in the last gold hunt. Your hands were shaking with rage, not so much from the cold, but from the frustration of knowing that Rafe had, once again, gotten you into this situation.

You were alone, at least that's what you thought, until you heard the door slam open. You turned quickly, looking for something to defend yourself with, but seeing that unmistakable figure enter soaked to the bone, your heart stopped.

Rafe.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you thought, although you didn't bother to say it out loud.

He slammed the door behind him hard, shaking off the water like a rabid dog. His dark hair, and his chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, as if he had run a marathon. His gaze met yours almost immediately, filled with that mix of fury and something more that always seemed to burn between you.

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t look away either. There was something about him that night, something different. It wasn’t just the usual anger you two shared, or even the constant tension that seemed to surround you like a force field. It was something rawer, more real.

The silence between you was almost deafening, broken only by the roar of the storm outside. You felt the air in the cabin grow thicker, charged with electricity, as if lightning was about to strike right there.

“What? Are you just going to stand there staring at me like an idiot?” You had crossed your arms, trying to hide the trembling that ran through your body.

He didn’t answer, but he took a step towards you, slow, deliberate. You could feel the intensity of his gaze fixed on you, as if he could see past the facade you always tried to maintain. Your heart began to beat faster, and you hated that he had that effect on you.

“Rafe, don’t start,” you warned yourself mentally, even though you weren’t sure what it was you wanted to avoid.

But he kept coming closer. You could see every detail of his face now: the raindrops sliding down his jaw, the way his lips were pressed together as if he were holding something back. His presence filled the small space between you, and suddenly, the hatred you’d always felt for him didn’t seem enough to explain what was happening.

You didn’t know who made the first move. Maybe it was you, maybe it was him, but in an instant, the distance disappeared. His hand slid behind your neck, pulling you closer to him with a force that made you gasp. His mouth crashed into yours with an intensity that left you breathless, as if all that pent-up rage had finally found an outlet.

Your hands clutched at his wet shirt, trying to push him away and pull him in at the same time. The kiss wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t tender. It was an explosion of everything you had bottled up for years: the hatred, the frustration, the attraction that neither of you wanted to admit.

You felt his body press against yours, trapping you between him and the wall of the cabin. His breath was hot against your skin, mixing with the cold of the storm that continued to rage outside. His every move seemed to call out something you didn’t know you’d been holding back, and for a moment, you let yourself go.

But it was only a moment.

Suddenly, you pulled away, your hands on his chest as you tried to catch your breath.

“This… can’t happen.” Your voice was barely a whisper, shaky but firm.

He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you said it all. There was something in his eyes you hadn’t seen before, something vulnerable that completely disarmed you.

The storm outside continued to rage, but inside the cabin, all was calm. Rafe didn’t try to come closer again, and you didn’t dare look him in the eye as you turned away, your heart pounding so hard you felt like it might explode.

After that night in the cabin, something changed, though you both tried to act like it hadn’t. That first time was an accident, you kept telling yourself, something driven by rage and storm. But what happened next made it clear that there was something more, something that went far beyond hatred or tension.

It wasn’t long before you met again. It was in one of the alleys behind The Wreck, where you had hidden yourself after a fight with Sarah and the others. Rafe appeared as if the universe was conspiring against you. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you with that mix of arrogance and determination that seemed to be part of his essence.

“You’re not here to worry about me, Cameron. What do you want?” you had snapped harshly, crossing your arms as if that physical barrier could protect you.

He didn’t answer right away, but the glint in his eyes made it clear that he knew exactly what he wanted. What followed was just as impulsive as the first time: his lips finding yours with a burning urgency, your hands clinging to his shirt as if the world could fall apart at that moment and you wouldn’t care.

Logic disappeared when you were with him. All you had left were pure emotions: desire, rage, need. In those moments, you didn't think about the past or what was coming next. You didn't think about the fights, the betrayals, or the reasons why you were supposed to hate him. There was only his hands on your skin, the sound of his breathing, and the way he managed to make you forget everything else.

But the next day, there was always something that reminded you why you hated him. Like that time you saw him bullying Pope at the dock, his overbearing attitude making it clear that the Rafe of last night and the Rafe of today were two sides of the same coin.

"You're an asshole," you had yelled at him later, when you faced him away from the others.

He shrugged, as if he didn't care, but his gaze searched yours, almost defiant.

"Don't expect me to change for you," he seemed to say without words.

You walked away furiously, promising yourself that this would be the last time. You couldn’t keep falling for that game, not when he was still the same cruel boy you’d known all your life.

But then, something always drew you back. Like when he found you after you were almost caught in one of John B’s crazy antics. He helped you escape, even covering for you when the Kooks passed by. It was an unexpected gesture, one that left you bewildered as you shared a moment of calm on an old boat hidden in the swamp.

“Thanks, I guess,” you’d told him, though your words were filled with skepticism.

He smirked, the kind of smile that always got on your nerves.

“Don’t think about it too much.”

But you thought about it. Every gesture of his, every glance, every clandestine kiss was etched into your memory, fueling a cycle you couldn’t break.

Of course, you had your part in that dynamic, too. There were times when your own actions infuriated him, like the time you stole information from him about the gold hunt and shared it with the Pogues. His reaction was explosive: he found you on the dock, his gaze filled with betrayal and fury.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” he said, his voice deeper than usual.

For a moment you thought he would leave you there, that this would be the end. But no. Even though you had betrayed him, even though you had defied him in every way possible, he always came back. Just like you came back to him.

[operationladybug]

Post for @mariandhamza ❤️🙏

"My name is Alaa, I am a Palestinian mother of two children: Maria and Hamza, as well as a wife and daughter... After 7th of October, my life turned upside down due to the war on Gaza. On the night of October 28th, the neighborhood we lived in Gaza – the neighborhood where my children grew up and where we started our family – was completely bombed... That night, my children and I witnessed unimaginable things – from casualties to bloodshed and bodies.

The suffering didn't end there. We fled... As evening approached, the bombing intensified in the area... We lost our ability to see clearly and had difficulty breathing, so I had to put wet masks on my children's faces in a desperate attempt to protect them. Their screams and fear didn't stop. I didn't know if we would survive. I held them close, trying to calm them, while sadness crushed my heart...

Eventually, we were forced to flee to the south... Rafah was overcrowded with displaced people, and we could only find a small tent lacking the necessities of life. My children suffered from epidemics and skin diseases caused by the pollution in the camp. Unfortunately, my little daughter Maria was infected with viral hepatitis due to the shared bathrooms in the camp. After miraculously escaping death with my children, I realized there was no safe haven in Gaza. With multiple displacements, we faced the harsh reality of lacking basics like water, food, and medicine, and the inability even to perform basic activities like bathing, eating, or accessing clean water.

We lost everything: our home, our jobs, our dreams. My biggest worry is for Hamza and Maria, their future is uncertain. Where will they live, study, and grow up? Gaza offers little hope now, as the essentials of life are being destroyed. My children's future seems bleak, overshadowed by uncertainty.

Today, I ask for your help. I ask for support for me and my children to recover from the traumas of the war we experienced. To have a new warm home for my family, to help my children go to school and get decent education, and to assist us in starting our lives anew. To live from the beginning once again. Your support is our hope and our future for a new chance in life for my children. Thank you for being a part of restoring hope and stability in our lives."

DONATE, REBLOG SHARE.

If you have the spare cash, which I know many of you do, please take the time to donate even a small amount to this struggling family. Imagine what you would want you to do if you were in this situation, and whatever it is, do it.

Reblog, add this post to your queue a couple of times, and share to your personal and friendly Discord servers.

We are all counting on your action.

[themastaralex]

the eldest daughters:

I've been in the works of a rhaenyra x f!reader fic for a while now, and it's omegaverse (cross posted on ao3) (my bad guys, accidentally posted it twice lmaoo)

TW: typical targcest between cousins, violence

Summary: Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, a proud and stubborn alpha, is set to marry her omega cousin, you, Princess Alerys Targaryen, in a manner to keep the blood of the dragon pure. You share the blood of the dragon, as well as the fire of it. In the end, however, all depends on if you can both manage to keep the realm out of war; war between kin, and war between dragons.

Chapter 1: The Heir's Tournament

You’d always known you’d end up with Rhaenyra, that much was obvious. You two had grown up practically attached at the hip after Daemon took you from your mother, Rhea Royce. He didn’t like her; ‘his bronze bitch’, as he called her, but still needed to produce some form of a child between them.

So he tried, once. Once is all he needed to do, because she had fallen pregnant soon after, much to both his luck and unluckiness. He didn’t want to do that again, hell, he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

You ended up taking your mother’s slightly tanned complexion and her dark brown hair, but your father’s eyes and streaks of white hair, luckily, which you normally braid back. A light purple, the only other trademark of Valyrian descent. He hated being reminded of the fact that he had had a child with her , but he had to have at least produced a child, but he loved you, in spite of having came from your mother.

Growing up with Rhaenyra in King’s Landing wasn’t bad, if that’s what was thought. It was the best place for you to grow up, on the contrary. You are a princess, not just some normal high-born lord’s daughter. You’re a princess of the realm, a Targaryen. Even if he wanted to, Daemon wouldn’t leave you with Rhea to grow up with her, to not have the luxuries you should- but did- grow up with.

You and Rhaenyra were mischievous kids, to say the least. Truthfully, they called you the ‘twin terrors’. But make no mistake, that didn’t stop you two. While you were indeed a princess of the realm, that didn’t stop you from wanting to pursue sword fighting. Not just because it’s interesting, but because it’d be the one thing you could have that could make your father proud of you.

You had natural skill, quite a prodigy, but not a prodigy in the eyes of every man in that training yard, purely because of their bias and overall thinking. But that’s normal.

By the time Rhaenyra presented as an alpha, most people of the court were surprised. They expected her to be an omega- to be submissive to her alpha, which they assumed would have been you, with your tall and slightly well built physique and your more masculine tendencies. And when you presented as an omega shortly after her, it caused nearly double the surprise that Rhaenyra’s presentation did.

And now, with all the commotion of Aemma and Viserys’ coming child- one that Viserys hopes is a boy, it’s as if the pair of you two have been left to your own devices. Along with Alicent as well, of course. She followed you and Rhaenyra in presenting shortly after yourself- at around 14 as an omega as well.

Regardless of the now stark differences between you and Rhaenyra, it was mostly all still the same since your presentations. Only thing was that guards were set at your doors when either of you went into your heats or ruts, because Rhaenyra is absolutely impulsive, reckless, and would gladly have taken that chance to have you early ahead of your coming wedding. And you would have let her have you.

But oh, yes, your wedding.

Rhaenyra presented at 14 and you a few moons shortly after her, so Viserys thought it would be best to betroth you two, to keep the blood of the dragon pure and what not.

It was the smartest idea to come out of him since him having made and named Rhaenyra.

The Heir’s Tournament is grand, as befit for the coming birth of Viserys’ new child, whom he very much hopes is a boy, and who he and Aemma (mostly Viserys though) have named Baelon in advance of the child’s birth. Although, Rhaenyra claims she wants a sister, and claims she’ll be a girl, even as while she and you were very close as kids, you weren’t sisters neither thought of each other as such, luckily.

By the time Rhaenyra finally arrives at the royal box, Alicent and mostly everyone else has already been seated, and it looks as if she was the last one there, excluding yourself because she’s sure you’re down there getting ready to compete. Despite everything, despite yourself having presented as an omega, Rhaenyra hadn’t witnessed her father or your father say anything to you about quitting and stopping your ‘nonsensical bullshit’ of training and fighting.

She supposes that’s what happens when you’re skilled, regardless of secondary gender, she thinks to herself, as she sits down next to Alicent on her right. The seat on Rhaenyra’s right is empty as well, being the one you’d usually sit in next to her when watching tournaments.

Viserys glances at her, and after recognizing that his daughter is there and accounted for, he stands and speaks, his voice oddly booming for once, “Queen Aemma has begun her labors!” He announces, much to the joy of the crowds and the people in the royal box as they clap and smile at him for a few moments before he sits back down and prepares for the first joust; between a knight of House Tarly and an unnamed knight.

Hooves of horses sound like thunder as the first men collide in a joust, with the unhorsing of the Tarly knight occurring with a sharp crack of the unnamed knight’s lance against his shield, or perhaps against his breastplate- although it’s hard to tell from Rhaenyra’s sightline. The unnamed knight seems to have no real way of differentiating him from a sword on the ground due to his bland and mis-matched armor with no house sigil.

Rhaenyra looks at him with slight interest, seeing as the man managed to unhorse a Tarly squire in one fell thrust of his lance.

“A mystery knight?” She inquires, with Alicent responding next to her, “No. A Cole, of the Stormlands.”

“I’ve never heard of House Cole.” Alicent would slightly shrug at Rhaenyra’s words, as they looked at the other knights, who with their decorated armor and resplendent jewels look every bit the part of wealthy noblemen who have never seen an inch of battle or war.

They spot one in specific, and Rhaenyra has a bit of gossip to share regarding him, so she tilts her body toward Alicent just enough to whisper to her without the possibility of prying ears, “Lord Stokeworth’s daughter is promised to that young squire.”

“Lord Massey’s daughter?” Alicent asks, as Rhaenyra nods and continues, “They’re to be married as soon as he wins his knighthood.” Alicent almost scoffs in amusement, but finishes their little gossip session with an added soft chuckle, “He’d best get on with it. I heard that Lady Elinor is hiding a swollen belly beneath her dress.”

Rhaenyra almost bursts out laughing at the news, but manages to control it into a small giggle as she leans back into her seat, watching Lord Boremund Baratheon ride over to the royal box, with his house sigil, a proud black and gold stag, etched onto his armor, and banners on his horse. He lifts his lance up toward Rhaenys, prompting her to stand and walk over to him as everyone watches him ask for her favor.

“I would humbly ask for the favor of ‘The Queen Who Never Was’.”

Rhaenys nods her head and indulges him, grabbing a favor and placing it on his lance as she offers him good fortune in the coming joust, even as he almost disregards her comment, “I would gladly take it- if I thought I needed it.”

That comment just rubs Rhaenyra the wrong way, as Otto grumbled something about Viserys possibly having Boremund’s tongue out for that. It rubs Rhaenyra the wrong way personally because despite her father being the king, she felt as if the crown should have been Rhaenys’. She was Aemon’s only living child, and she was still passed over for the crown twice. Once for Baelon, and another time for Viserys.

Over the set of the next few minutes, they just speak amongst each other until the Master of Revels introduces who is one of the main competitors of the event.

“Ser Daemon of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent!”

Daemon, Rhaenyra’s uncle, and soon-to-be father-in-law as well.

The smallfolk in the stands cheer loudly for him as he rides out on his steed, as Daemon is wearing black-scaled armor, with the helm looking like a dragon’s head. The other knights from the lists are lined up- once again minus yourself.

While Daemon trots his horse down the line, scrutinizing and choosing his opponent, Rhaenyra’s thoughts obviously wander to you. You wouldn’t miss a single chance to embarrass your father, especially if it’s in a joust, or even if you get embarrassed yourself, because you’d get to fight Daemon regardless.

“Where is she?” Rhaenyra would mutter to herself, one of her arms moving to rest on the arm rest as one of her thumbs played with the ring on her middle finger. Alicent notices Rhaenyra’s small mutter and her fidgeting with her rings- not that she’s much better because she picks at her nails.

But she notices regardless, and decides to distract her a bit by speaking of who he might choose, “Daemon will surely choose to face one of the great houses. Though he probably doesn’t want to tilt against someone he’s never faced.” She notes, getting Rhaenyra to sit back up a bit as Daemon chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower, Alicent’s older brother and Otto’s eldest son, with aiming his lance toward him.

This makes Alicent slightly frown, as Rhaenyra looks on in contemplation. The one person she wants to see compete in this bloody tournament isn’t even here yet, and it’s maddening, because she knows you’re a damn good warrior. Otto doesn’t even flinch at Daemon’s choosing of opponent, he expected it, if anything.

Daemon and Gwayne line up in their lanes, and charge toward one another. Daemon’s tactic of forcing the other man’s lance to drive into the dirt and throw him off the horse works, and Gwayne lands face first into the ground under him and his steed. Once Daemon wins, he takes a victory lap around, and then rides up to the royal box as he takes off his helm and wows the crowd with his obvious good looks.

Rhaenyra, Alicent, and truthfully, most- if not all- the ladies in the royal box immediately swoon, as Alicent and Rhaenyra go up and walk to him, as they both smile, Rhaenyra’s smile being just a touch more polite than anything else, as is Alicent’s.

“Nicely done, uncle.” Rhaenyra notes with a hint of praise, as Daemon gives her a small nod, acknowledging her words, “Thank you, Princess.” Then Daemon turned his eyes toward Alicent, tilting his lance up toward her, and then asking in an almost smug tone, “I’m fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it.”

At that, Alicent is almost taken aback, even with the blush on her face from the question. But she does as he requests, grabbing a favor and placing it on the lance, as it slides to the base, with Rhaenyra going back to sit down as Alicent offers some final words. “Good luck, my prince.”

Rhaenyra looks almost amused, but she doesn’t want to give away that this genuinely makes her laugh, as Otto glares down at Daemon. Beating his son, then asking his daughter for a favor, as if he’s someone he should cross?

All in all, the hostility between his younger brother and his Hand amuses Viserys to no end.

The tournament rages on, and finally, you make an appearance. You’re up against a member of House Tyrell, a knight of no real consequence. Even his movements on his horse seem sloppy, if anything.

The moment Rhaenyra spots your recognizable dragon armor- the same colors as Daemon’s armor, black and red, as it should be for most Targaryens- the helm, mostly, since it’s reminiscent of your dragon, Aeryx and her horn shape, she grins, finally able to relax and know you’re about to wipe the floor with that Tyrell man. Or maybe a boy, more like it.

“And now, for her first match of the day, Ser Alerys of House Targaryen, daughter of the Prince of the City, is tilting against Ser Heron of House Tyrell!” The smallfolk all cheer and clap at the mention and sight of their prince’s daughter, as the nobles in the royal box clap for both competitors.

Viserys both visibly smiles and looks worried. Not for you, but for Heron Tyrell. If you’re anything like Daemon– and you are, after all, he’s known you since you were a babe– you’re definitely going to either bend the rules a bit, or say ‘fuck all’ and just beat the man half to death. With the way Daemon handled Gwayne in his own match, he doesn’t doubt you were most definitely watching him and are taking pointers from him and his own actions.

Regardless, the smallfolk calm down a bit as you and Heron trot into your respective lanes after your introductions from the Master of Revels, as you watch Rhaenyra and Alicent stand up and walk to the guard-rails of the royal box to watch this joust. They’re your closest friends, and your cousin is set to marry you in a year or so, so it would only make sense for them to want to closely watch you embarrass a Tyrell.

You look up at Rhaenyra and Alicent, giving them a small nod and smile through your helm, with only your eyes and the middle of your lips visible through the small vertical open area of your black iron helm. They smile back at you, with Alicent’s smile being more friendly than Rhaenyra’s small smirk. The girl lives for both hearing drama and causing it.

Once you look back at Heron, it’s as if you can tell he’s nervous from beneath the visor of his helm, because his hand is slightly shaking as he holds his lance and shield. Now, for the lance, it might just be that it’s heavy, so you won’t blame him for that if that’s the case.

After a few more moments of a wait, you both charge toward the other, having a narrow field to aim your lance and hope it strikes true on either his shield or on his breastplate to push him off. Once you both get close, you meet the edge of his shield, but the tip of the lance slides to the side to strike his armored shoulder as he’s pushed almost off his saddle as you both ride down the line to the end to turn back around and go for a second charge if he can sit up. His own lance had missed- sliding off the iron edge of your own shield, which didn’t help him stay on his saddle, as he fell the moment the horse turned to the other side, falling into the mud of the tiltyard and losing the joust.

The crowd loudly applauds at their princess’s win, having all expected her to easily best the Tyrell knight, as Rhaenyra and Alicent stood at the rails the entire time, witnessing the usage of strategy that you used (you just aimed at his shield), and how you made the best of missing his shield.

You ride up to the royal box, removing your helm and holding it in your lap as you look up at them, as if a knight in shining armor.

“Princess Rhaenyra. Lady Alicent.” You greet, giving each one a small nod as a smile rose on your face regardless of who you were looking at– even if it rose mainly due to Rhaenyra. She looks beautiful in that dress, with the red and golds contrasting perfectly with herself. You don’t even have to address them with honorifics, you just want to. Besides, if you want to play as a knight right now, you have to be as courteous as one would be.

“I wouldn’t suppose that I could have your favor for the coming fights, could I, Princess?” 

‘Only you would be so bold as to ask for my favor over such a minor joust, Alerys..’ Rhaenyra thinks to herself, slightly tilting her head and having a small smile on her lips. She keeps eye contact with you, before giving her oral answer, dancing around it a bit before really answering.

“Hmm, I would suppose so, my gallant knight.” She walked over to where the favors are, and grabbed one as her father looked at her with a small neutral look for a moment before letting a small smile come on his lips and give a slight nod to her as if to say, ‘Go ahead.’

It's not like Viserys doesn't want Rhaenyra and you to not have fun neither not show that you are both steadily ready for your coming marriage, and giving you her favor would only reinforce the thoughts of most nobles; loyalty.

Otto side eyes Viserys for a moment, watching as the king gives the go-ahead to Rhaenyra to place the favor of a wreath of red roses on your lance, watching it slide down to the base.

Of course, Otto, being the King's Hand and a.. a friend , agreed with him the moment he suggested Rhaenyra and you be betrothed.

Though, his ambitions are large, large enough to take heavy steps to the crown if need be. Truthfully, he should have pushed to possibly have betrothed Alicent and Rhaenyra. It's not like Alicent isn't pleasant looking and Rhaenyra doesn't have affection for her– she does. But he's not sure as to how he might have taken it, especially since this was likely one of the few things that Viserys and Daemon had agreed on doing for their daughters in a while now.

But he's sure that with a bit of persuasion , or perhaps seduction of sorts from Alicent’s way toward Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra might voice her opinion to want to marry someone other than the obvious choice of her cousin with Targaryen blood..

But Otto quickly gets himself out of his own head and plans, watching as you and Rhaenyra conversed for another few moments, with you claiming brave words of victory.

“When I win this entire tourney, I’ll come up and name you my Queen of Love and Beauty, cousin.” Your words came with a cocky grin, looking up at Rhaenyra, as she just quickly snorted, out of humor if nothing else. Just the name of ‘cousin’ toward one another makes her laugh, as she humored you.

“We’ll see when you win then, won’t we?” Rhaenyra smiled, slightly tilting her head for a moment as she kept eye contact with you for a bit more before you placed your helm back on and rode back toward the boy acting as your squire.

Alicent- who was witnessing the entire flirting session between the two of you, side-eyes Rhaenyra, having a look of something similar to saying, ‘Well, I’m sorry I was here to witness this..’, as they sit back down.

Over the course of the rest of the day, Lord Boremund Baratheon is humbled and promptly knocked off his horse by the previously unnamed knight, the Cole of the Stormlands, who they announce as, ‘Ser Criston Cole’. Now with a complete name to the man, Rhaenyra is partially curious about him, so she waves over for Ser Harrold Westerling, her Kingsguard knight, to ask him about the man.

“What do you know about this Ser Criston Cole, Ser Harrold?” She asked, as he seemed to think about it for a moment, responding back to his princess to the best of what he was told. “I have been asking the same thing, Princess. I’m told Ser Criston is common-born, the son of Lord Blackhaven’s steward. Other than that, and the fact that he has unhorsed both of the Baratheon lads, I could not say.”

They watch as Ser Criston lines back up in the lane as he awaits his next opponent.

The Master of Revels calls out the next opponent, “Ser Criston Cole will now tilt against Ser Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the City!”

That catches Rhaenyra’s attention again, seeing as her uncle is about to tilt against this Ser Criston. She thinks Daemon will make quick work of him, and then after that, he would probably joust against you, his own daughter. However, he might have the slightest bit more pity for you, and not be as harsh as he would normally be with any other opponent.

Both Alicent and Rhaenyra’s interest peaked at this match, as they stay seated but watch with careful eyes, as Ser Harrold stood and walked back to his post.

The joust is a quick one, with both of them charging toward one another, as Daemon hits Criston’s breastplate dead on, breaking his lance. Unfortunately, Daemon is the one who is dismounted, with the amount of force he placed into the attack, he’s forced back, falling off his horse and onto his back.

Though, he quickly scrambles back up and signals to his squires to bring him Dark Sister, offering it to him hilt first, as he quickly draws said sword– the Valyrian steel rippling in the light of the afternoon sun.

“Prince Daemon wishes to continue in a melee!” The Master of Revels proclaims, as the crowd cheers and hollers, with Ser Criston dismounting his horse and continuing this match in a melee. While Daemon had a squire to hand him Dark Sister, Criston has no such man, so he runs to grab a morningstar from one of the posts set up with weapons on one side of the tiltyard. But Daemon doesn’t wait, he quickly and angrily slashes at him with Dark Sister, with Criston evading with the speed of a much smaller and agile man.

With his evasion, he turns around and snares Dark Sister with the chain, gripping the blade and quickly pulling it away from Daemon’s grip and into the mud. Daemon is disarmed now, as Criston throws him into the ground, hitting him on the back with his morningstar once, to stun him, as he says, “Yield.”

But in true Daemon fashion, he tries– and fails– to reach for Dark Sister, with Criston kicking away the sword to somewhere else, now standing over Daemon as he holds his morningstar above his head, ready to strike again if he does not yield. The crowds are going absolutely wild, at both Daemon being bested, and Daemon being bested by a relatively unknown knight.

Viserys stands and claps and laughs loudly, as Otto politely claps, but both are appreciating that Daemon has been humbled and bested for once. Criston helps Daemon up out of the mud, as Daemon spits some blood on the ground, angrily.

“Well fought, my prince.” “It was. By one of us.”

After his snarky answer back, Daemon walks away, picking up Dark Sister as he leaves the tiltyard, and perhaps the tourney grounds in total.

Ser Criston remounts his horse and rides to the royal box, looking up at Alicent and Rhaenyra, and due to having already witnessed the earlier match of you versus the Tyrell boy, decides against asking Rhaenyra for her favor, lest he wins and gains your wrath against him. He removes his helm as Alicent and Rhaenyra come up to the rails, watching him for a moment; witnessing his dark hair, dark eyes, and olive-colored skin.

“Gods, he’s Dornish.” Alicent said, almost falling for him right then and there. Of course, Rhaenyra doesn’t exactly feel the same thing. He’s attractive, sure, but he’s not you.

As they witness Criston’s looks for the first time, a maester comes into the royal box and speaks quietly to Otto, who quickly wears a somewhat distressed face, as he whispers to Viserys, who after receiving the news, quickly but quietly makes his way out of the royal box and into the Red Keep with Otto and the maester, where his wife, Queen Aemma, is having birthing problems.

Criston asks for Alicent’s favor, even as she had earlier given one to Daemon, but her eyes do partially light up as she does, because he chose her and not Rhaenyra to ask for a favor.

Afterwards, the tourney takes a more brutal turn, with bones breaking, blood being spilled every which way, and death being something the slightest bit more common right now, as a Corbray knight walks over to the Tarly knight who unhorsed him, and begins to beat him. Their pages and squires rush to pull them off each other, to no avail.

In the next match after getting them out, it’s Ser Criston versus you, still having the favor that Rhaenyra gave you that was on the base of your lance, which is now on the junction of your left arm, of your inner elbow.

“And now, Ser Criston Cole versus Ser Alerys Targaryen!”

You both charge with loud yells, striking true on each other’s shields, shattering one another’s lances, as well as a part of your shield. You rush to throw your broken lance down, grabbing another from your temporary squire’s hand, being careful to grip the inside as Rhaenyra eagerly watches you race down the lane a second time, hoping you knock Criston on his ass, purely because Daemon lost, so you need to win it. For House Targaryen, for your own pride, and for Rhaenyra.

It’s almost a make or break moment, the moment that you aim in and have a set point as to where the tip of the lance will strike. No, not almost , it is a make or break moment.

Even with the sweat rushing down your forehead and almost into your eyes because of the heat and your heavy black armor, you manage a breath before you collide.

It’s over in merely a second as you feel the lance hit him, but you also feel his lance against you– pushing you down as both of you hit each other’s breastplates with all the speed of the racing horses, and your own strength.

And you are both knocked to the ground at the same time, off your horses- disoriented because of the force- as you barely shuffle up onto your feet, regaining your eyesight as you motion your squire to grab your sword, and he quickly hands you your sword, a well-crafted iron sword, whom you dubbed, Stinger. You couldn’t really think of anything better because you were a child when Daemon gave you it.

“And they decide to continue into the melee!”

You witness Ser Criston having stood back up as well, grabbing a morningstar, no doubt about to try the same tactics he used on Daemon, considering he knows who he’s facing; his daughter.

You don’t slash as angrily as Daemon did, more so just gauging your chances and taking shorter slashes, since he has the advantage of wielding a weapon that could easily dent your breastplate if you’re not careful and if he’s harsh with his strikes.

You both go back and forth for a bit trying to know the other’s striking pattern, as you get a bit too eager once you see an opening, going for it as he notices and uses the morningstar to hit your shoulder, denting your armor and forcing you down, almost letting go of your sword, but not quite.

He quickly tries to disarm you by kicking your hand, but you grab some dry dirt from a patch, and throw it in his eyes, in classic Daemon fashion, barely getting up and hitting the morningstar out of his hand as he almost wipes at his eyes, forcing them open, growling angrily. This is when he starts going for hand to hand combat, knowing his morningstar is too far to reach now, and he’s partly blinded.

The crowd gasps, seeing as you pulled a ‘dirty trick’. It’s something that- again- Daemon would do, so they’re not too surprised. 

Both you and Ser Criston continue, with you pushing him back a bit with your sword, trying to kick him down and make him yield, but he stays up. It’s frustrating, and almost makes you irritated, but while your frustration and irritation hits you, your distraction gives him an opening, so he shoves your sword aside with his armguard, and makes sure to hit your helm guard with the metal covering his knuckles, forcing it to hit your nose. And with the strength of his punch, it makes you bleed a bit, as you stagger backwards; disoriented again as your vision failed you and eyes started watering.

He grabbed your collar of your neck armor, and threw you down onto the ground as if you were nothing but a sack of flour, in which you groaned as you hit the mud. He places one foot on your hand wielding your sword, and the other on your breastplate, on top of the Targaryen sigil in the middle.

“Yield.” He said, knowing you’d have to. You literally can’t move with his feet on you.

“I-I.. I yield.” You reluctantly say, and he takes off his feet from you and your body, and moves to give you a hand. He’s a strong fighter, you’ll give him that. But then again, you’re only a 14 year old girl, and you lasted that long and almost bested him. Good try.

You take his hand up, giving him a small nod of thanks, even as the blood rushes down your nose and lips, then down your chin and onto the ground and probably your breastplate.

“Good fight, Ser.” You manage out, as he gives a small nod back, “I say the same to you, my princess.”

The entire fight did rub him the wrong way for a bit, seeing as he was fighting a princess, not a girl specifically. But to be acknowledged by a princess, one that worked to hone her skills to participate in a tourney, is good nonetheless.

You both walk away, to get treated for your wounds, and because Criston pretty much won the entire damn thing already.

And then, not even half an hour later, during a different melee, you join Rhaenyra and Alicent up in the royal box, rubbing at your nose as you sit down in some clean clothes, in a black tunic with red accents and embroidered silver dragons on top of where each breast is.

Rhaenyra looks at you, and feels a bit bad, until she realizes you lost, and totally wasted her favor. “You wasted my favor, oh, gallant knight.” She sarcastically says, and she doesn’t really care about the favor much.

You look at her for a moment, slightly embarrassed and frowning, “Sorry. He got my nose, and my eyes started watering.” You grumble, holding it as you witness the new violence down in the tiltyard, whereas Alicent looks away and Rhaenyra- like you- continues to look.

As the violence reaches a standstill, as in the bodies being dragged away after everything, Otto finally returns, and shares the new news to the small council.

“The Queen lives, but the boy is dead.” He quietly shares, earning a small gasp from some of them. It’s enough to draw attention, from all three girls down in the first row, as well as from possibly Laena and Laenor.

The Queen lives, but the boy is dead.

Aemma survived off of nothing short of a miracle. They sacrificed Baelon’s life for Aemma’s, but she is narrowly surviving.

Viserys chose her, in a rare twist of fate.

[sarawritestories]

Oh Gods I Wish You Were Here

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: The holidays are fast approaching, and Cassian can feel the void now more than ever.

Content warning: mention of death, holidays, grief, and tears probably, not proofread.

A/N: Not how I intended to come back, but I got in my feelings, and this was the result.

Don't take it personally that I didn't tag this one...I just wanted to get it out as the words came.

Joy to the world. The war was over Feyre's birthday was upon them, along with Winter Solstice. Velaris snow covered, warm lights illuminating the longer evenings. Cassian could hear your daughter laughing alongside his cousin Nyx. All was right with the world.

Just not Cassian's.

As he looked at the daughter, the two of you shared, he reached out that familiar bond, and he did his best to cover his flinch as a reaction to the winter breeze rolling in. And not the ache of the end of the fading gold bond being hollow. The painful reminder that you were not here. Not watching your daughter growing up or laughing at his corny jokes.

The Mother was cruel.

"Daddy," he smiled, swallowing the tears threatening to form, "Nyx said we get to go decorate the tree at Auntie FeyFey and Uncle Rhysie's house" Aria, your 6 year old, raised her arms up and was in Cassian's embrace in an instant, his wings curving to block the wind. "Can we, pretty please?"

Cassian wanted to fall to his knees. She had your smile, the twinkle in your eye when you were excited about something. It wasn't fair.

You should have been the one to soak in these moments. To enjoy in the holiday luster. To see your child grow into a person. To see that she had your looks, personality, and your mate's whole heart.

But illness doesn't discriminate. It takes and it takes. He continues to take until its victim has nothing left, and the General of the Night Court's army only had a tombstone, and the memories you both shared as illness managed to claim another innocent soul.

Cassian had no time to grieve as Aria needed him, needed him to live, to move forward, to get out of the bed. He had to live so that Aria had her best chance at life.

The sounds of familiar voices hit his ears as Nyx led him and Aria to the townhouse, a continual meeting place for Solstice. Rhys greeted them, and Aria was greedy to get out of her father's arms and embrace her uncle. "Can we decorate the tree?"

Rhys laughed and kissed her cheek, "Of course, Starlight. Go find Auntie FeyFey and Uncle Az." Aria was quick to grab Nyx's hand, leaving the two Illyrian males behind. Rhys' gaze met his, and talons scratched at Cassian's walls.

"I'm fine," Cassian grumbled.

"Well, over 500 years, and you are still a horrific liar." Rhys flicks some lint off his shirt and sits on the stoop. Cassian joined him his wings tucked in tight. "I know the holidays are hard."

Cassian shook his head, "Aria, started school. She's made friends and takes art classes. It's not fair, Rhys. Aria shouldn't have to learn about her through stories at night time. She should be here Rhys." Cassian tucked his face in his hand a sob racking out of his body. "I want her here."

Rhys held his friend tightly. As Cassian roared, "Oh God's I wish you were here!" The door creaked open, and tiny hands gripped onto Cassian's wrist. He uncovered his face to see Aria smiling. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart," he sniffled as he pulled his child to his chest, trying to compose himself from his outburst.

Aria kissed his cheek, "Look, Daddy. A gift for you. Uncle Azzy said you could open it early." An envelope with his name in her tiny hands with...your handwriting. He gently took it from the small child and opened it.

Hey Handsome,

If you're reading this, then it must be Solstice, and our little girl is not so little anymore. I need you to know that if you're reading this that I fought hard. I fought so that you would never had to open these. I think we both know the outcome. I know you are hurting. I know you are fighting to keep our girl safe and protected and loved. I will never be able to thank you enough for the bravery you had before, during, and after this hardship.

Know I'm there with you, every big milestone, every storytime, every boo boo you kiss for Aria. And I'll be there through the bad stuff too, I'm sure. I get to look down at you from the stars and make sure you're safe and protected, for once. I love you, Cassian. I promise that we will find each other in the next life and we will have more time. There are letters for both you and Aria for big milestones, Az was given strict instructions on when to deliver them for you. When the world seems like too much and the void is too great, maybe my words will help the two of you grow and move on in my absence.

All My Love,

Your Sweetheart.

"Daddy?" Aria looked at him with eyes that matched his own, "what did it say?" Cassian smiled aware that the two were now alone

Cassian held her close and looked up at the stars, illuminating the town. "Look up at the night sky, little one." She did, and as the two looked on, a star flashed across the star, and Cassian heard her little gasp. "That was Mommy. She was letting us know she was here."

Aria snuggled against her father's chest, "I miss her." She whispered.

"Me too, Princess, me too." And the duo looked up at the night sky and wished that their favorite person was looking back at them.

~Fin

[haythemnabhan]

Now...

no salaries..

no dues

No our apartment

Part of our tragedy and catastrophe due to war..

I haven't posted anything for five days, why?

Because of the news that was like a thunderbolt to my family..

My wife and I received the news of the termination of our contract with our institutions that we were living on before the war and we had bought the apartment of our lives through them..

They informed us of the termination of work and we borrowed from the bank to buy the apartment and they said that our dues would go to the bank and be withheld..

Now there will be no salaries and no dues for more than 10 years and the apartment that we bought was bombed and burned and we cannot go to it because Israel prevented us from returning to the northern Gaza Strip..

All of this and for one day days I have not received any donation to complete my goal which stopped at 50k $..

We were affected by great anxiety and fear from this unpleasant news especially since the future of my daughters is in danger especially since we live in the southern Gaza Strip and there is almost a famine as there is no flour to make bread and the prices of vegetables are very high and there is an exorbitant inflation to the farthest extent not to mention the constant fear of the bombing and the war that has not stopped for 14 months..

My friends on Tumblr..

I support my small family with my wife And my two daughters and also my big family my father, mother, sister..

and my older brother who lost his wife and three children due to the war..

My friends on Tumblr..

We need your support we need to intensify sharing our story and our suffering so that we can complete our goal of reaching $75,000 and make our family live well before hoping to hear good news about the opening of the crossing so that we can leave to a safe place..

Thank you..

@valiantbarnes @violatine @sumikatt @peachbellini-candle @riotbard @cagandante-communistoide

@meshugenist @rhubarbspring @butchniqabi @lizardbytheriver @binglam @aeonazo

@meshugenist @rhubarbspring @butchniqabi @lizardbytheriver @binglam @aeonazo

@bahrmp3 @fleshdyk3 @emil @anti-democratic-russian-bot @comrademango @kamek

@starsplitter @evillesbianvillain @anissapierce @bakugames @legoyuri @necromancersdoitbetter

@sar-soor @dlxxv-vetted-donations @dlxxv @rebecca-levin-art @tangleslime2

@newporters @neptunerings @nabulsi @malcriada @mauesartetc

@jezior0 @variantsofblue @victoriawhimsey

@strawbebbynya

@faggotbutch

@darkmoonhyena

@captainbaddecisions

@daxdraggon

@fancysmudges

@aleciosun @khizuo @timetravellingkitty

@rhubarbspring @anyonghalimaw

@memecucker @palestinegenocide

@akajustmerry

@sar-soor

@annoyingloudmicrowavecultist

@feluka @tortiefrancis @tsaricides

@visenyasdragon @belleandsaintsebastian

@ear-motif @kordeliiius @brut

@raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish

@theropoda @tamarrud @tamamita

@el-shab-hussin

@nabulsi @buttercuparry @fancysmudges @brokenbackmountain

@aleciosun

@fluoresensitive @khizuo @lesbiandardevil

@transmutationisms

@schoolhater

@timogsilangan @appsa @memecucker

@sayruq

@malcriada @palestinegenocide

@sar-soor @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist

@feluka @tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies

@tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt

@visenyasdragon @belleandsaintsebastian

@ear-motif @kordeliiius

@brut

@raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @theropoda

@tamarrud

@jonahmagnus

@qattdraws @sealsdaily @footlongdingledong @blogsonthefritsnfribbles @hurtz-whale

@toastybugguy @spiltcandycoatedpunkblood @sasukeless

@stanleys-big-chemicals

@thejasontoddarchives @u3pxx

@skippiefritz @newsfromstolenland

@spiderman616

@three-croissants @pocketsizedquasar-3 @gorillawithautism @el-shab-hussein

@nikoco11

@thedigitalbard @therottenkingsreckoning

@timogsilangan @brutaliakhoa @muminshoom

@brokenbackmountain

@breathtakinglandscapes

@cockworkangels

@khanger @knownoshamc @the-awkward @reblobber @theartofanimation

@hello-from-the-night-archives

@stillstreet @stalinistqueens

@roseillith

@lady-shadow-and-darkness

@nabulsi @iloveplantssomuchiwanttobeone

@tboyunt @wildfeather5002

@heritageposts @honeytonedhottie

@h @cheloneuniverse @cheaperimint

@sinhasfluffyheadfur @antinmonyie

@amatteurrwave @awesomepeoplehangingouttogether

@sissa-arrows

@taviamoth

@shamelessshepherd @1tsny4nc4t

@fairycandles @girlinafairytale

@sarazucker

@fairuzfan @sayruq @palesora

@agentfascinateur

@13ag21k

@stil-lindigo @vakarians-babe

@el-shab-hussein @sar-soor

@90-ghost @communistchilchuck

@nabulsi @just-browsing1222

@bat-luun

@kaneverse @nightowlssleep

@khanger @babygoatsandfriends

@self-hating-zionist

@dlxxv-vetted-donations @neptunerings @mangocheesecakes

@thatsonehellofabird

@buttercuparry @malcriada

@neptunerings @butchmagicalboi

@appsa @rhubarbspring

@paparoach

@commissions4aid-international

@a-shade-of-blue

@galactic-mermaid @khanger

@jezior0 @lesbianmaxevans

@lonniemachin

@monstermashpotato

@raatwitch @crapscicle @tortiefrancis

@mangocheesecakes

@comrademango

@deathlonging @girlinafairytabe

@littlegermanboy @c-u-c-koo-4-40k

@sweet-honey-bunnies @nevert-the-guy

@fromjannah

@classyeyeballs

@heliopixels @akajustmerry

@tamamita @autisticmudkip

@fading-event-608

@wilwheaton @wellwaterhysteria @paper-mario-wiki @prisonhannibal @razzberrydazz

@officialspec @ot3 @o-lanterns @imlizy @bixels @butchfeygela @buttercuparry

@virovac @variantsofblue @2spirit-0spoons @27moremoons @kinderes

@halalchampagnesocialist @heydreamchild @halimaidmf @wizardarchetypes

@commissions4aid-international @redbuddi @reginaofdoctorwho @tamamita @littlestpersimmon

@lovetododeku @libertineangel @imjustheretotrytohelp @straycatj

@skunkes @sayruq @the-telltale-heart

@emil @notallmensheviks @opposite-of-aster

[i-love-ptv]

I Just Ride ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

(Prologue?)

Pairing: Knight!Rafe Cameron x Princess!Carrera!Reader

Wc: 719

An: Heyyyy guyssss…..So this was supposed to come out for HALLOWEEN but i got lazy n wrote other things.

I debated on posting this, i was thinking of making a series, but that depends on whether or not y’all want it! so lmk loves!

Feedback is always welcome and encouraged! <3

“This would be monumental for the family, Rafe!” Rafe’s father, Ward, exclaimed.

Rafe remains unsure of how long this conversation has been going on, he fears his horse will have passed on by the time his father decides to make his voice scarce.

Ward Cameron was one of the mightiest knights in all of Kildare Kingdom, if not the.

Everyone knew that he only cared about the family legacy; for the wealth that came from notoriety.

His eldest daughter, Sarah, was arranged to be wed to Prince Topper Thorton. —But it was painfully aware that her eyes lingered elsewhere, they always remained on the Thorton family’s jester, John Routledge.

Ward is even in the process of accommodating his youngest, Louisa, despite her constant protesting. All the young girl wanted was to become a knight, just like her big brother Rafe. But of course this behavior was not allowed in Ward’s book. No, Ward’s daughters need to be nothing but royalty, and the only way was through marriage.

Ward and Rafe’s step-mother Rose had an almost dictatorship-like relationship. Ward’s word goes, no matter what. Nobody even in the family dared to disobey his order.

Hence why, although he isn’t interested in the slightest, Rafe knew he wasn’t going to get out of it.

“Think about this, Rafe! You are already a knight, my son! Now you would just work for one family!” Ward shouted, growing more agitated by the second.

“Unfortunately for you, father, I am not interested,” Rafe maintained with a blank tone.

Ward huffs, raking his fingers through his hair frustratedly. “My word is final, that is it.”

“But-“ Rafe attempts to object.

“That is an order, Rafe! You are to serve the Carrera family, and provide them with the utmost respect,” Ward almost snarls.

He continues, “I wish not to hear another word about the matter, Rafe. Start packing, you will be residing there as well, they’ve offered you one of their spare rooms.”

Rafe stomps to his room, similar to how a young child would.

It’s not like he has a problem with the Carrera family, It’s quite the opposite actually. They treat him with such niceties that would make anyone fawn; since he was a Cameron and all.

The youngest, Kiara, albeit continuously holding a grudge towards Rafe, wasn't his main concern.

You, were his main concern.

You somehow always managed to have that twinkle in your eye, even when falling bored.

You always smiled at him brightly, and he knew that it wasn’t fake like the others’.

You held beauty unlike the rest; Rafe swears there could never be a time where you don’t look divinely ravishing.

He’s thought about writing you a letter, confessing his admiration for you and his want to have your hand in marriage.

Unfortunately, the Cameron boy knew that seeking a relationship with you was futile. After all, was just a mere knight, and you deserved to be married to a man of royalty; since wealth was no issue for Rafe.

Rafe doesn’t know if he’d even be able to handle being in the same vicinity as you, let alone guard you and take up your sacred space.

The thought alone makes his stomach fill with the flutters left behind by butterflies, but he also feels giddy, believe it or not.

He’d be able to see you freshly from your slumber.

….That's rather strange, isn’t it?

It’s not like he was an odd stalker of some sort, he just wanted to be bare witness to the beauty you behold, especially when you rouse from your nightly escapades.

The mere thought of being in your presence makes his heart pound against his chest. The tight feeling makes him reach his arm out and grip his nightstand for stability, as he drops onto his bed.

It’s late now, and despite his urge to just succumb to slumber. Rafe packs his bag, which will reside on his horse tomorrow morning.

Once he’s done, he flops onto his bed, resting under the covers on his back, looking at the ceiling in thought.

‘How would this transpire? Only a god would know,’ he thinks to himself. He thinks about praying, although he doesn’t really have the words in his throat.

Rafe finally rests his head on his pillow, and hopes for the best.

[lush-lavenders]

❀Late Bloomer❀

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: You are late to enter society, but that doesn't mean you don't catch anyone's eye...

Request: Nope

Author’s Note: Sooo I'm really bad about disappearing. But recently I've been binging Bridgerton and been in the mood to write, so here we are!

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None, just fluff here

Buy me a Ko-Fi

!I don’t own this gif!

Dearest Reader,

It has come to my attention that a Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N), youngest daughter to Baron Arthur (Y/L/N), is making her debut, mid-season. Not only that, but she is almost one and twenty!

While this author cannot see the future, she can certainly predict it (and I do predict it well) - this season will be nothing if not eventful for Baron (Y/L/N) children.

—

As you stepped into the ballroom, the flutter in your stomach threatened to escape from your mouth. 

Lady Whistledown had come out this morning, and your mother was enthralled by the mere mention of your name. This made her fuss over you all day, needing to make your debut even more ‘perfect.’ 

You tried on three different dresses before the right one was picked out. You had five hairstyles tried out before your mother decided on the very first one. You had spent two hours out in search of the perfect matching earrings and necklace.

You were exhausted by the time you had to get ready, and severely tense as you arrived at Lady Danbury’s ball.

Cassandra, your sister-in-law, squeezed your arm softly. “Take a deep breath. This is just a party.”

You quickly took a breath, sighing it out. “That is easy for you to say. You married my brother in your first season after courting for a week.”

Cassie opened her mouth probably to give you more words of encouragement when your brother butted in. “We cannot stand here and talk all night. You need to present yourself to suitors.”

Before you could even think about protesting, Matthew walked ahead of you with Cassie on his arm, leaving you to trail behind.

—

“That there is Miss Buchan, she’s the only child of Earl Buchan.” The dowager Viscountess Bridgerton was discreetly pointing out young ladies to her two eldest sons, whose attentions would rather be anywhere else.

Benedict was scanning the room for someone he could use to politely excuse himself from his mother’s matchmaking. 

It would be an understatement to say he wasn’t interested in marrying yet. He had just recently started at Art School and wanted nothing more than to enjoy his work as a bachelor.

That’s when he spotted Lady Danbury. Normally he avoided the woman, as she could be as scheming as his mother, but she seemed like his only refuge.

“Excuse me, Mother, but I believe I should give my regards to Lady Danbury for the invite.” Benedict bowed to Violet before quickly heading off in the direction of the hostess. 

He thought about turning away last minute, evading all the prying eyes of those who might want to set him up, but something caught his attention - the once-alone lady of the house was now talking with a young lady. One he had yet to see in the sea of lovely debutantes. 

“Mr. Bridgerton!” Lady Danbury’s distinct voice cleared his mind as he approached. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She knew better than anyone that the Bridgerton boys tried to avoid her at these balls.

Benedict bowed, offering a smile. “Lady Danbury, I just wanted to compliment your wonderful party.”

Lady Danbury raised her, knowing that there was an ulterior motive. She glanced at where Violet Bridgerton was standing with her eldest, noticing her eyes were following her second child.

She flashed a scheming smile and turned her attention back to the young lady she was with. “Where are my manners? Miss (Y/N), this is Mr. Benedict Bridgerton. Mr. Bridgerton, may I present to you Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N). This is her first ball, so I expect you to be on your best behavior. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should go talk to your mother.” 

She gave him a little pat on the shoulder, pushing him towards you as she went to Violet.

You lightly curtseyed as Benedict bowed his head to you. As you stood up straight, you froze, staring into the most beautiful blue eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the man’s features, stunned that someone such as him could be before you.

“Miss (Y/L/N).” He took your gloved hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing the gentlest kiss one could muster.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you returned, not knowing what else to say. He had captured any words that might formulate within you.

His grasp lingered on your hand, longer than one might consider proper. It was good that the two of you were sequestered to the back of the ball.

At least you had thought you were hidden away.

A hand and sudden voice from behind told you how wrong you were.

“(Y/N), we have been looking for you. We turned around and you had disappeared.” Cassie let go of her husband to take your arm. “Who might you be talking to?” She asked, hiding the joy she felt for her best friend talking to a very eligible bachelor.

Benedict bowed to her and introduced himself before you could do it. “Benedict Bridgerton, at your service.” He joked lightly, and you bit your lip softly as you smiled.

“Bridgerton,” Matthew said as he bowed his head. “I’ve done quite a bit of business with your brother.”

If it wasn’t for Cassie being between you, you would have elbowed your brother right in the ribs for creating such a boring conversation.

Luckily, Cassie was thinking similarly enough to you. “Now now, my love. I’m sure Mr. Bridgerton does not need to hear about his own brother.”

Benedict chuckled, agreeing with her. “Yes, well, as well not needing to hear from him.” He joked, just as a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Well, Brother, maybe I shall take a look at your allowance?” Viscount Bridgerton came up out of the blue.

It seems as though each of your siblings was trying to prevent the two of you from speaking.

And they just kept coming.

Eloise Bridgerton arrived next, in an effort to escape from her mother. “Anthony, Benedict, you really must not leave me alone with Mama.” She sounded sort of breathless as if she had rushed here.

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling parched. “Pardon me…” You muttered to no one in particular. Matthew and the Viscount seemed to be conversing about business, while Eloise tried to convince Benedict to return to their mother for her.

Cassie silently went along with you, still holding your arm.

You were silent as you made your way to the refreshments table, grabbing the first glass in front of you. You tried to appear as ladylike as possible while you practically gulped down the lemonade.

“I am so sorry for our interruption, (Y/N),” Cassie said after you had finished. “I did not realize you were speaking with a Bridgerton.” 

You shook your head, setting the glass down. “It’s alright. We didn’t really start to converse yet.” Not that you had the chance.

She picked up a glass herself and took a sip, her thoughts lingering. “You seemed… quite enamored with him.”

You scoffed, but not in a way to be rude. “Did you even look at him, Cassie? He’s…” You were at a loss for words as your gaze landed back on the Bridgerton in question. His eyes were wandering, ignoring both of your brothers. They wandered and wandered… until they eventually landed.

On you.

Your eyes met for the second time that night, but this time you quickly looked away, cheeks growing hot. 

That wasn’t before you noticed his perk up and began heading in your direction.

“Cassie, he’s coming over here. What do I do?” You ask in a panic. The only men you’ve ever really talked to were your father and brother, and neither counted towards this.

She put both hands on your shoulders, making you look at her. “Just be yourself.”

That’s the best advice you have, you thought to yourself.

You barely had the time to think up a response when Benedict made it to you, bowing his head again in greeting. “Mrs. and Miss (Y/L/N).”

You both courtesy, Cassie standing up before you. “I believe my husband needs me.” She says before snicking off, leaving you two alone.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you say after a moment, lifting your eyes to take a look at his features. Features that seem to be drilled into your mind from the beginning of the night. “Has my brother bored you so much you seek me out?” You joke in a self-deprecating manner, knowing you aren’t exactly worthy of his attention.

He smiled at your humor but shook his head. “Our brothers together are an apparent force to be reckoned with, but it is not them that brings me here. It’s you.”

Your breath caught in your chest at those last two words.

He actually wanted to be around you. There is nothing you could’ve hoped for more.

He looked around your surroundings before having you take his arm. “It gets so stuffy in here, does it not? Let us get some fresh air.”

“Just the two of us?” You asked with raised eyebrows. You had never been left, unchaperoned; yet the thought of it, with Benedict… it excited you.

He smiled a crooked but sweet smile. “Only if we leave now, while no one’s watching.”

You smile back, looking around as you follow him quickly into the hall before going out a backdoor into the gardens.

In the first few moments you observed him under the moonlight, your whole future played out. Everything centered around him.

[petriwriting]

Bright Future Ahead - JJ Maybank X Reader

Based on THIS request.

Summary: Reader tells JJ they are pregnant.

A/N Did not proofread, wrote this at the gym lol

“C’mon baby girl,” JJ says, the little girls footsteps thud on the floor as she toddler-waddles over to JJ, whose across the hall.

John B and Sarah had a few errands to run, so you and JJ had offered to watch over their sweet daughter Ella Rouledge while they did so. She was so sweet, an Angel with little curls and eyes like her fathers. She was bold and adventurous, taking after both of her parents in that regard. One thing she particularly liked was playing dress up with JJ. Her god father was her idol, she wanted to be just like him, even mimicking his mannerisms from a young age, it was so heart warming to see. You couldn’t wait to have your own child.

Over the last 5 years, the Pogues had given up on treasure hunting, and everyone was settled into a comfortable and safe life. You and JJ had been through everything together, and you loved him more than anyone could imagine and in return you were his whole world. You had gotten engaged shortly after Morocco, JJ had said he didn’t want to waste anymore time because he knew you were the one, and in case they were swept on another crazy adventure he wanted you to be his, officially. You’d taken his last name and had a backyard ceremony with the group with string lights and beer, and a pastor certificate pope and Cleo found online it was in fact legally binding. Since then, JJ had put a lot of his energy into his business, JJ Maybanks deep sea charters, a huge success, now with a second location opening on the other side of the island. Everyone was making enough money to live comfortably, however in Pogue fashion they certainly did not live like kooks. John B and Sarah were fully invested in their family, Cleo and Pope were doing well too, as pope was finishing his degree. All was well for those 5 years, the good and the bad. You were thankful that JJ stuck with you through it all. He had grown into himself, and matured a lot after the incident with his father. He had healed significantly. You were thankful to have seen it all. Reminiscing on the past had only further directed your mind to your future ahead of you…

“Can I brush your hair?” The little girl squeals excitedly, her mother had her hair in braids with bows and they wiggled as she moved excitedly across the playroom. “Sure kiddo, anything.” JJ chuckled and sat down on the floor while the girl brought out her play makeup and hair accessories. You approached the room, and stood in the doorway. “Whose hungry for lunch?” You say with a smile. “Me me!!!” The girl yells excitedly. “Me too,” JJ chuckles. “Well, I’m thinking tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches?” You offered. “Sounds delicious!” JJ exclaimed, looking at himself in the fake mirror.

“Are you sure about this one?” He asks, playing along with the girls banter. She was desolately trying to reach JJs head while he sat on the floor and was brushing what she could reach while comparing the butterfly hair clips with his complexion. “This one,” she says insistently, settling on a blue clip, JJ had to clip it to his own hair because she struggled to do so by herself, her tiny hands weren’t quite strong enough. “Wow! This one really brings out my eyes, huh Y/N?” He turned to you who was admiringly watching playtime unfold from the doorway still. “You look so fabulous.” You reply still holding a slight smile. You would have gladly played with the girl if she wanted, but there was something about JJ that she just loved and you couldn’t blame her. She had said he has better hair the last time they played princess together, and that it was more fun to play with than your hair, you weren’t particularly offended by this though. “I’ll get lunch started, you say, disappearing into the kitchen. You didn’t want to leave, lingering for a few moments watching Ella begin to paint JJ’s nails a glittery purple color. He was no match for her.

As you prepared lunch for the three of you, you could hear the girl’s innocent laughter and JJs colliding. She was delighted her uncle JJ was playing with her. It warmed your heart to imagine how sweet and tender and caring he would be when the two of you decided to start a family. It made you flush, and you felt fuzzy and warm as if you had only just fallen in love with him, instead your were falling deeper in love with JJ.

The thing was, you had just found out you were pregnant. The morning prior, you had taken a test after not feeling too great for a few days and as if shocked, you gasped when you found out. It wasn’t that you weren’t ready for this step in your future, it was that you were slightly sad to mourn the loss of the things you were able to do with JJ alone, like showering together and having sex on the couch in the middle of the day. Sure, they were great, but that sadness and slight doubt was replaced when you saw how amazing he was with Ella, he was attentive and caring, gentle and soft. He showed his gentle side only with her, and sometimes you wanted to squeal in excitement because of how cute it was.

Pretty soon, there would be a little JJ running around causing trouble, and you couldn’t be happier to think of it. Now, you just had to tell JJ himself. You’d taken 4 boxes worth of tests to be sure, and Sarah had helped book an appintment for you later that week with the doctor that helped her through her pregnancy, you had told kie as well and she immediately bought you a pack of prenatal vitamins and healthy snacks. Something she said was absolutely vital. She even offered to show you some pregnancy yoga stretches she taught other women. Everyone was excited for you, even John B, who Sarah had told by accident. You were slightly worried you wouldn’t find the right moment to tell JJ, not that he would react badly, just that it was such a big moment for the two of you.

You were lost in your own world while you prepared the soup and made the sandwiches in the routledge kitchen, you hadn’t noticed how quiet things had gotten. It had only been a little less than an hour, so curiosity got the better of you and you wandered back into the playroom. JJ shushed you before you could say anything and your eyes met his. Ella was sleeping peacefully cuddled up my JJ’s side, she must have wanted him to read a story and had fallen asleep. The poor girl must have been exhausted from playing. JJ looked at you with a soft smile, 2 pink butterfly clips were in his hair, and he looked a bit goofy but he was still your JJ.

You smiled softly at him, “Let me,” you mouthed to him, reaching for Ella and gently picking her up in your arms to tuck her into bed. JJ pulled a soft blanket over her as she lay peacefully sleeping. You turned for the door, while JJ leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Sleep tight cupcake.” He said softly, before joining you. You gently shut the door behind you and lead JJ to the kitchen.

“Gosh she is somethin’ else.” JJ says with a slight laugh, taking the clips out of his hair. “I love the nail color on you, very complimentary.” You joke. You proceeded to the kitchen, where you both enjoyed the lunch you had made in comfortable silence. JJ knew something was up since you were acting oddly in that moment. After eating, you sighed and went to clean to rinse the dishes, putting them into the dish washer.

“Hey,” you said finally. “Can we talk?” You ask, JJ smiles gently “of course.” He says. “What’about?” He asks you. “Well.” You begin, he can tell you’re upset, nervous at least. He takes your hands in his gently holding them in a comforting way he waits patiently for you to let it out, and when you are ready after a moment you do. “Seeing you and Ella makes my heart melt, you are so sweet with her and it just,” you stutter, stopping yourself. “It makes me realize how much of an amazing father you’ll be.” You look up at the ocean eyes of his, “I can’t wait to start a family with you.” He admits softly. “And you know I’m ready whenever you are.” He explains. He had said before he was patiently waiting for you to be ready, and he would support you however you needed. “Jayj,” you say gently. “I’m uh,” you sigh softly. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence, JJs expression that was soft turns into an elated smile. “Really, baby?” He asks in disbelief. “Yes.” You confirm. “Like 6 tests.” He embraces you tightly for a quick moment. “Oh my god,” he says through a smile and a joyous laugh. “We’re havin’ a baby!” He exclaims. “Woo!” He says loudly, with a fist up in victory. you shush hun reminding him of Ella sleeping a few doors down. JJ gets kinda serious for a few minutes, and leans down so he his face to face with your stomach, “hear that baby Maybank?” He says, “your mama and I are gonna spoil you rotten. I’ll give you everything I always wanted as a kid. We’re gonna love you so much,” JJ says, his voice cracks as he’s gotten emotional, teary eyed. “I love you so much.” He says, to both you and your baby. He embraces you with his head rested on your stomach.

You enjoy his touch and run your fingers through his hair for a few moments, he finally stands up fully again and wipes the tears from his eyes and kisses you deeply, you are so swept up in his embrace you don’t hear Sarah and John B coming back home with a few groceries. JJ pulls back immediately and goes over to John B, “we’re having a baby!” He exclaims. John B shares his excitement and they embrace. “Congratulations, man.” He pats JJ on the back. Sarah is excited too and smiled at you, scurrying to put the handful of groceries away. “Well I didn’t know you were going to tell him now.” She says with a sigh, reaching under the sink and pulling out a very expensive and fancy bottle of sparkling cider. “But we got this as a gift to celebrate!” She exclaims popping the bottle open with a satisfying fizz of bubbles and a pop.

The rest of the evening is spent in a happy daze, a night you’ll remember for the rest of your life. Kie had come over and hugged both of you very happily, and Pope and Cleo shortly after. The evening was spent in celebration, sharing happy memories and drinks. Nob alcoholic ones for you of course. Deep down you knew you were right where you needed to be and you couldn’t think of a better man to have as your baby’s father than JJ Maybank.

Taglist: @jsbaby

[melaniepilled]

the storyline is brilliant. (most) characters are well-developed. the animation is gorgeous. the soundtrack, though a bit on the nose, is pretty cool. HOWEVER:

what's with the copaganda? like come on, lesbian cop? all those corny scenes trying to make the viewer empathise with this cop or that cop? i dont need to see the poor fate of a cop's daughter to know cops are human beings with loved ones. that's nowhere near the point. it's disrespectful as hell to pair scenes of, idk, a cop's suffering with a zaunite's suffering to be like: we're all the same, guys! no, you're not 😭

all that shit with marcus was so annoying like they want us to think he had some noble motive for his corruption. lmao? like, sure, at the end his kid's life was threatened by silco but what about before those five minutes? didn't he team up with silco of his own accord for YEARS?

idk, man, i think the showmakers could've made the point of "silco threatened this cop into doing this woo scary" without all that corny sad music and 1000 scenes of poor helpless enforcer marcus. I DON'T CARE omfg.

now back to the lesbian cop. GIRL was that necessary? seriously, the best queer rep you can imagine is a female cop? argh. ew. be for real.

any way, who even is caitlyn kirraman? noble girl felt caged by noble expectations blah blah blah overused trope blah blah. she wanted to 'see' the real world and the best she could do was join the Brutal Oppression Force to get some hands-on action in harming the real world? huh?

on one hand, i can believe an almost-princess wouldn't know the reality of this oppression but man. come on. it's so cliche. sheltered rich kid joins a police or police-adjacent service with pure intentions only to learn the service is only at the disposal of the elite? jeez, never heard that one before.

AND she could have been mildly tolerated is she wasn't so intent on throwing her power and status around. and for what? pumping the undercity with toxic gas to faciliate her witch hunt?

annoying. negative rizz. could have done way better. every time caitlyn kirraman appears on screen i have to stifle a groan of frustration.

and what's with the uniform? the rest of the character designs were so good you can almost forget it's arcane League of Legends and then there's ... this.

anyways, i want to complain about one more character before i can move on to other things.

this mf. he's so blank. no personality. switches his motives every episode. i don't even think he's meant to be a real character. what's his deal? characterless mf sorry i dont even have anything to say forget it

overall, the way arcane tries to equate the harm done by this or that zaunite to the harm done by topside is ... suspicious, to say the least. i DO think zaunites have a right to take up arms against topside and i feel no sympathy for poor helpless enforcers or noble councillors. womp womp

anyhoo. on to the good shit. arcane is like 20% action and 80% political intrigue and if i had known that i would have watched it ages ago. nevertheless, all the side characters and sub-plots are highly entertaining and if not for them arcane would be nothing.

characters i liked!

jinx and vi are ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ that's sisterhood for ya.

viktor my man. he was sexier when he was dying.

ekko my cutie patootie

silco is a weirdo and an edgelord that being said he is pretty interesting

sevika. so hot. answer my calls sevika please

let's talk about my fav girl now

MEL MEDARDA. soft-hearted girlboss fighting her warmongering mother. do i think she's selfish and does not care about her 'people' as much as she says? yes. but she does have principles. also, i have no idea what her sub-plot is going to lead to. it's cool. she's cool. love to see a beautiful girl suffer xoxo

that's all i will say for now. this post is already super duper long. i havent even talked about jinx and vi. meow. bbye.

[gwynautismfanblog1]

Not going to lie, I was really enthusiastic about the idea of an antagonist figure Caitlyn. Arcane could've woven a phenomenal narrative about how easily people of privilege, even the ones who try to be empathetic to an oppressed class, can be swayed into genocidal fervor with ease when their comfort is disrupted.

To some extent they did, but I wish Arcane committed to the bit and pursued a villain!Caitlyn. Plus I'm a sucker for lovers to enemies and would love to see Vi having to choose between Caitlyn and Zaun. I think they were headed in the direction of a villain arc for Cait but ultimately chickened out on it.

Also, I feel the familial relationship Ambessa and Caitlyn had was such wasted potential. Ambessa and Caitlyn were perfect for each other in a familial way. Ambessa was a bitter mother who was estranged from her daughter, leaving her essentially daughterless in her eyes. And Caitlyn was just made motherless.

The two could've had such well written toxic synergy. It would've been a Greek tragedy having Caitlyn slowly corrupted by Ambessa's influence to the point that when she reunited with Vi, she was barely recognizable. I can't say I'm fond of Caitlyn betraying Ambessa. Ambessa's character definitely stagnated once Caitlyn was out of the mix.

I think right now in the age of radicalization, Caitlyn could have been a very scary and effective cautionary tale about how easily fascist thought can win. That scene with Ambessa recruiting Caitlyn felt so ominous and foreboding, like the birth of a monster. The first act had such a good set up, but ultimately nothing came out of it in my opinion.

Anyways, this is just my opinion and I would love to know if anyone else shared similar thoughts regarding Caitlyn's character arc. Who else wanted a legit Caitlyn corruption arc?

EDIT: I do like the idea of her falling into fascism, but then changing her mind to support the Zaunite resistance. That could send a valuable message that it is not too late to turn back from evil ideologies to any people who've been radicalized.

[novankenn]

What If...

Pyrrha was also under the sway of Salem Cinder and Pyrrha love each other (Pompeii) Jaune and Emerald are married (Topaz) Jaune and Emerald have a child (Jasmine Esmeralda Arc) Jaune and Emerald are on the run from Salem & Ozpin

Scene : A park in Vale

==> @draggokid What if perhaps meets emerald and jaune kid instead of doing anything evil she just talk to it until emerald and jaune finds her with their kid and then they start talking to each other about past and what they want to do an then pyrrha leave not telling cinder anything.

Pyrrha wandered through one of Vale Cities, parks. With her crimson hair died midnight black and pulled into an elaborate bun, her emerald eyes tined purple due to contacts, and wearing a rather no descript tracksuit, no one was the wiser to her true identity.

She was amazed as she walked through Vale at how much it had recovered and blossomed after the Fall. All of her and Cinder's efforts at the behest of Salem, seemed for naught. It was a troubling realization at how fleeting the effects of their plan was. Vale still stood, the kingdoms had banded together instead of being forced apart, even with Atlas' robot soldier blunder.

So Salem had withdrawn. Reverted to more clandestine methods, to achieve her goals. Which basically left Cinder and herself out in the cold. Too famous to be seen, with even a hint of them being in a Kingdom, let alone a Village or Settlement was enough to have a place swarmed with soldiers, huntsmen and huntresses.

"So Cinder and I hide like rats, while trying to locate Jaune and Emerald." Pyrrha muttered to herself. "What's the point? They know nothing. Why is she so set on finding them?"

Tired of walking without any real direction Pyrrha found a secluded bench and took a seat. She pinched the bridge of her nose, and sighed. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This is not the life she was promised. She and Cinder were to be Maidens. To stand at Salem's right and left hands. Given the freedom to live life how they wished. Being hunted like rats, was not that. Her bed should be warm, with the body of the women she pledged herself to. The woman she murdered to be with... and now most nights it was cold and empty.

As she sat there lamenting how everything, all the plans and schemes just collapsed in upon themselves, she heard a small, whistling voice.

"Are you alright Miss Lady?"

Lowering her hand Pyrrha was struck by the smiling image of innocence and cuteness standing in front of her. She instantly knew whose child it was. The likeness to her mother and father was unmistakable.

"I'm fine sweetie." Pyrrha replied, plastering a smile on her face, to hide her shock. "Are you here alone?"

"No, Auntie and Uncies is here with me." the little angel replied, with a huge grin showing of her missing front tooth.

"What about... your mommy and daddy? Are they here as well?"

"Nope." The hope she had finally found Jaune and Emerald was dashed. If they had also been at the park, she could have approached them, "Auntie says they need alone time."

"Alone time? Why would they need alone time?"

"So they can hide it!" the little girl happily declared.

"Hide what, sweetie?" Pyrrha asked a little more than confused.

"My new baby brother or sister!" the bundle of adorableness exclaimed.

Pyrrha's heart felt pangs of jealousy, and pain. She and Cinder had talked about children. About having a family of their at some point. But Cinder had grown cold, and shot down any attempt Pyrrha made to speak to her about their future. Yet here, by pure chance she was speaking with Jaune and Emerald's daughter, and hearing that they were trying to expand that family further. Pyrrha felt hollow.

"Jasmine Esmeralda Arc! Get your behind out here!" Pyrrha froze. She knew that voice. "Jasmine!"

"Over here Auntie!: Jasmine called out in her whistling voice. "Over here!"

Pyrrha tensed, as Nora marched into view. A stern look on her face. Pyrrha tensed, just enough so she could bolt if Nora showed any signs of recognizing her.

"You know better then to go wandering off like that." Nora calmly reprimanded the little girl. "What if the CP found you?"

"CP is not real Auntie!" the adorable bundle stated. "Plus you would kick her bum if she did show up!"

"Yes I would, but still. No wandering off."

"Okay." Jasmine agreed. "Does this mean no panny-cakes?"

"No, we'll still have pancakes. Now thank this nice young lade who kept you safe from the CP, and then we'll get uncle Rennie, and stop for desert pancakes."

Thank you for protecting me from the CP, miss." Jasmine shot Pyrrha a massive heart stopping smile.

"I'm sorry, about her." Nora spoke to Pyrrha, with no sign of recognition. "Thank you for indulging her."

"It... it... was not problem. She's a delightful little one."

"I know right?" Nora beamed, before reaching out with her hand, to take Jasmine's. "Let's go find uncle Rennie!"

"Is uncie Ren lost auntie?" Jasmine asked.

"I believe he is!" Nora gasped in a playful manner. "Should we go find him?"

"Yes!"

Pyrrha's heart was slamming against her ribs, as Nora walked off, holding a skipping Jasmine's hand. It was then she noticed the acrid smell of cigarette smoke. Turning to her left, towards the smell, she clenched her hands into fists, as she came face to face with Mercury Black.

"You know if it wasn't for Jas, being here. Nora would have broken you face." he calmly stated before taking another draw on his smoke. "And I'll tell you right now, She's already told Ren, Jaune and Emerald about seeing you."

"So?"

"You don't get it do you?" Mercury smirked, as he flicked his cigarette away. "That little angel means more to all of them than life. You being here is a threat to HER future... understand?"

"I could always come back with..."

"Fire Bitch?" Mercury scoffed. "She hasn't even touched you in years. I was there remember? I saw what happened to her when Emerald chose to live her own life."

"She's still..."

"Listen... and listen good. That angel is the best thing in Jaune and Emerald's life. She is there everything, and if you think you can try and take that from them... your sorely mistaken. Besides..."

"Besides? Besides what?"

"You'd have to get through me... first." Mercury coldly stated. "That little rug-rat loves me for some reason... calls me... uncie."

Pyrrha rose from the bench, turning so that she was fully facing Mercury, her body tensing for action. She then froze, as the cold steel of a pistol was pressed into the back of her neck.

"Hello... Pyrrha." came another voice she never wanted to hear. "Don't try it. You're not that fast. Now why are you here in Vale?"

"Hello... Ren." Pyrrha returned the greeting before answering, "Nothing really. Just a walk."

"Well I suggest... you keep walking, and don't look back." Ren's tone was the most hostile she had ever heard.

"I'd do what Uncie Rennie tells you." Mercury grinned, and he slid into a loose combat stance.

"Only Jas gets to call me that." Ren growled at Mercury over Pyrrha's shoulder. "Now some advice, from a former teammate to another."

"Advice Ren? What advice?"

"Forget about who you met here. Go on and live your life and stay away, because if we see or even think you are around Jas, Jaune or Em..."

"You won't see another sunrise." Mercury added.

"Do we have an... understanding, Pyr?" The use of her old nickname caused a lump to form in her throat.

"Yes. We have an understanding." Pyrrha replied.

"Good. Guess you better get going."

"Yes, I should. Nice hearing your voice Ren." Pyrrha responded, before taking a couple shaky steps forward, her path taking her past Mercury, who leaned in to say something.

"If I was you, Nikos." Mercury spoke, his breath thick with the stench of cigarettes. "I'd take a long hard look at what you have... and think..."

"Think?"

"If what you have is worth fighting so hard to keep, or if... there is something... better out there."

"Is that what you did?"

"Yes, and I don't have one fucking regret about making the choice I did." Mercury shot Pyrrha one of his smirks. "Have a good one Nikos."

Pyrrha made her way to the edge of the park. She knew she was being watched. She would have been an utter fool to not understand that fact. Once she was back with in the press of pedestrian traffic, she pulled out her scroll. Stepping out of the flow of traffic she opened it, and activated the encrypted call application. The she froze, her thumb hovering over the icon for Cinder's scroll.

"I should... I should..." she tried to convince herself as her thumb continued to hover. "But why should I? Will it change anything for us?"

She stood there for several more minutes before closing the application and collapsing her scroll. Moving to the edge of the street she hailed a cab.

==> A/N - Stay tuned for a "flash back" on how Merc ended up part of Jasmine's expanding circle of Aunties and Uncles!

[youshouldjustliveinmychurch]

Symbolism of Jinx's Hair

*Arcane spoilers*

CW: Violence, self-harm, suicide

OH. MY. GOD. So so so many thoughts, but for now a few quick thoughts on the symbolism of Jinx's hair.

-The bangs are there the whole time and represent her relationship with Silco since we see young Silco with similar bangs. (credit to Tik Tok for that).

-After Isha's death, Jinx's very long hair is completely undone from its braid. This calls to mind Rapunzel, perhaps symbolizing that in her depression Jinx is isolated in the tower of her mind and - maybe - needs someone to rescue her but it's difficult to reach her unless she tosses her hair down and lets someone in. Problem is, Jinx doesn't feel worthy of letting anyone in. Silco, while well-meaning, is reminiscent of Mother Gothel, who keeps Rapunzel trapped by teaching her to act a certain way. The hair is unbraided, which symbolizes the loss of her identity as Jinx. Her inability to form and be comfortable in a distinct identity not explicitly attached to another person leads to a lack of self-worth that causes her death.

-THEN she cuts her hair to the length it happens to be when she's powder in the other timeline. This symbolizes a reversion to - not necessarily her old self (too much has happened) - but to someone closer to who she would have been without so much trauma. This is the point when she's about to *you know* and Ekko manages to stop her. The sad thing about Jinx in the current timeline is that her identity has become irreparably tied to other people because of her trauma so she doesn't think she has any value on her own. First she (and her identity as a younger sister / daughter) was linked to Vi and Vander, then attached to Silco (as a daughter). When she loses Silco, she loses her identity, until she once more finds an identity in being a sister / attaching to Isha. She thinks she has value by playing that role. When she loses that, she once more loses her sense of identity and worth because she's never been allowed to grow up / form one on her own because of her trauma. That's why her "sacrifice" in the end is such a tragedy and not actually something to be admired.  It all stems from her lack of valuing herself, which is a tragedy. The Powder in the other timeline is different because she's had time to form an independent identity and sense of self-worth which we can see demonstrated by her clothes and the fact that she's not very susceptible to the slight pressure from Vander and others to be more ambitious and live up to her potential. The ONLY thing that makes her help Ekko is the fact that Vi is alive in the other timeline. She expresses her love in her own way by creating something contrasted to how Jinx expresses her love for Vi by destroying herself. Also, Ekko is the only one who can reach her in that moment and stop her self-destruction because he sees her soul - the real Powder. It's like the difference between friends and family. We love our families. They are (good or bad) important. But they have preconceived notions about us and our identities related to them. Our friends, on the other hand, CHOOSE us. They choose to be around us (ideally) because they like us for who we are in our natural state.

-When she zooms up with Ekko, her hair has been changed yet again. She keeps the bangs (representing Silco) and has dyed a streak purple (to represent her and Vi together - pink + blue and also VIOLET). The rest, however, is jaggedly cut off close to her head. Instead of this representing an entirely new identity, I see it as representing the hope and POSSIBILITY of a new, more authentic identity growing (see hair growing) while still keeping the foundation of her care for the people she loves. The hair is cut jaggedly and isn't necessarily beautiful or put together by typical standards, but it doesn't have to be. One of the main themes of this season is that "brokenness" is essential to who we are and isn't always a bad thing. As Ekko says, it's a chance to build something new. Unfortunately that never happens because of the consequences of trauma.

I'm not sure I agree with Jinx's death because on the surface it feels like the tired trope of villain / morally grey character is redeemed by sacrificing themselves for someone else. Personally, I think it's much more powerful to have a character take responsibility for themselves while also forgiving themselves. I concede that this was done in a really nuanced way. The thing is, I don't think we're actually supposed to read Jinx's death as a heroic act that redeems her. Instead, it is more in line with the themes to read it as a horrific suicide caused by trauma, oppression, and a lack of self-worth/identity. In that split-second decision, Jinx reverts to all that she knows and has been taught, even though for a moment she did have a shot at a new identity. She chooses to die because she doesn't value herself / doesn't know who she is and has been taught all her life that you show love through violence (even if it's violence in protection of those you love). With as clever and innovative as Jinx is, don't tell me she and Vi couldn't have figured out another way to best Vander. It makes sense to read this moment as an avoidable, tragic suicide because Jinx is clearly suicidal and even makes an attempt. The song that plays during her attempt also plays during her death. We're supposed to see this event more in the light of what happened to Isha, which HEAVILY foreshadowed and paralleled Jinx's death by showing a child's misguided attempt at expressing love. An innocent child shouldn't feel obligated to sacrifice their life to save someone else's life. That moment is horrific. Not even an adult should be asked to do that. That's an unmistakable tragedy. Just like Isha was doing what she was taught (the simplicity and complexity of "pew-pew"), Jinx was doing what she was taught. It's a cycle of innocence, violence, and trauma that also mirrors Jinx's accidental role in Vander's death when she was trying to mold herself to what everyone expected her to be. It's haunting that Jinx says, "Killing isn't mercy." She doesn't give herself mercy in the end. We see that even though Vi tries her hardest to show Jinx she's loved and can have mercy/ a second chance, Jinx doesn't know how to accept that. It's not a coincidence that in that same conversation with ghost Silco they talk about identity. That's just my personal interpretation.

Anyway.

[stephstars08]

History

Titans!Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader

Warnings: Adult Language, LONG INTRO, Angst, Fluff, Weapons, Injuries, Trauma, Heartbreak, Death Mentioned, Dark Themes Mentioned, Violence, Anxiety, Jealousy, Loneliness, and Possible Grammar Errors. (Sorry If I Forgot Any!)

Summary: Y/N is the daughter of Black Canary and Green Arrow. That’s how her and Jason met. They met through their parents. The two have so much history between them that is full of ups and downs.

Word Count: 2,212

Author’s Note: I’ve basically had this in my drafts unfinished all year till I finally just decided to finish it since the idea isn’t all that bad. If it’s a little confusing I apologize and the intro is basically a summary of how the reader and Jason became so close. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it!

Y/N and Jason share a lot of history with one another. Y/N is the only daughter of Dinah Lance and and Olivier Queen who are Black Canary and Green Arrow. Y/N has the same powers her mother has which is a scream that sounds like a canary crying. However, Y/N’s scream is different. Her’s sounds more like a siren than a canary cry. That’s why when she goes out on patrol she goes by the name Siren.

Y/N is also a good and strong combat fighter. Both of her parents are good fighters but have different fight styles, so Y/N knows how to fight using both of her parents' fighting styles. And of course, she also knows how to use a bow and arrow as well.

Y/N and Jason met when her mom was helping Bruce who is Batman on a case that involved someone her mom had dealt with before and ever since that mission Y/N and Jason have grown a bond and have worked together on multiple occasions.

They joined the Titans together. Jason was excited but Y/N felt the opposite. Y/N felt like she did not fit in with a team even though everyone loved her. Jason and Dick helped her a lot with that feeling and made her feel like she belonged on the team.

Everything was going fine till Dick brought in this girl named Rose who just happened to be the daughter of Slade Wilson who is no other than the deadliest assassin, Deathstroke. When Dick let Rose stay in the tower, she butted heads with everyone especially Y/N. It was mostly because of who her father is. Deathstroke has a long history with Y/N’s parents. She knows all of the horrible things he has done.

It only got worse when Jason didn’t listen to Dick and got captured by Deathstroke. He tormented Jason. When Dick and Kory went to get him back Jason almost fell to his death till someone who looked just like Superman came to the rescue and caught him. When Jason returned to the tower Y/N knew something had changed inside of him. All he did was stay in his room which really concerned her. She would tell everyone that something was wrong, but everyone was dealing with their own shit and seemed not to care. They would just tell her he’s just still recovering from what Deathstroke put him through.

One night Y/N finally decided to take matters into her own hands and go talk to Jason. She felt like she was the only one that gave a fuck about Jason. She went to his room and went to knock on the door, but music was playing pretty loud so she just decided to just walk into the room which she immediately regretted it. She walked in to see Jason and Rose kissing. When Jason noticed her, he immediately broke the kiss. Before anyone could say anything Y/N just walked back out. After that happened Y/N couldn’t help but feel angry. She also felt jealousy boiling inside her too which did scare her. Jason is her friend, and she feels jealous about him kissing another girl. Why was she feeling jealous?

More chaos ensured after Dick confessed that he murdered Deathstroke’s son. The old Titans were the most upset. Everyone left the tower except Dick, Gar, and the guy who saved Jason were the only ones that were left. Y/N left with Donna and Rachel while Jason left with Rose which did hurt Y/N. She felt like he rather be with Rose than with her. Things didn’t end well between Rose and Jason. Turns out she was just using the team because her father wanted her to help him destroy the team. Y/N didn’t hear about the breakup till Rose reunited with the team to take down her father.

Y/N didn’t see Jason till Donna’s funeral. Donna had gotten electrocuted saving Dawn. They just shared a look and that was it. After Donna’s funeral Y/N went on her own.

She went back to Star City and started to fight crime on her own. She didn’t hear from any of the Titans till Jason became Red Hood after coming back from the dead. Dick brought Y/N back to help Jason come back to the good side which worked. After they finished Crane off and sent him back to Archam, Jason confessed his feelings for Y/N which she returned them. When she was out on her own that’s when she realized her feelings for Jason. When Jason was going through all that darkness Y/N was the one that helped him get through it and that’s when he realized he has feelings for her.

They started dating each other but sadly the relationship didn’t last very long.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jason was at the Gotham City Police Department with Barbara in her office. He’s helping Barbara solve a case that needed help from a vigilante more than a detective. There is a villain named Cupid who has showed up in Gotham. She’s been leaving dead men in alleyways. There have already been two victims. One man was found with an arrow through his chest and the other man was found with an arrow going through his head.

Barbara asked Jason if he’s ever dealt with Cupid which he said no. “Okay then I know someone who does know Cupid.” Barbara said which made Jason let out a sigh since he knew who Barbara was talking about. “Y/N.” Jason said putting his hands into the pockets of his zipped-up jacket.

“Yes, can you go to her and ask her for some help defeating Cupid, she’s done it before.” Barbara said to him. “I don’t know about that, Babs.” Jason said with nervousness in his voice. “Jason, I get it. You two had a shitty breakup but we really need her help with this case.” Barbara told him. Jason let out another sigh because he knew Barbara was right. Plus, he would’ve crossed paths with Y/N sometime. “Okay, I’ll go stop by her apartment.” Jason told her and walked out of the office.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jason drove his motorcycle to the apartment building he use to share with Y/N. When he walked inside the building he could feel his heart rate speed up. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He stood in front of the door that read 3C in gold. He took a deep breath to calm his pacing nerves down.

He knocked on the door and waited. A couple minutes passed and there was no answer. Jason knocked on the door again and still no answer. Jason figured Y/N wasn’t home so he turned to walk away but before he could reach the steps the door opened to reveal Y/N. When he looked at her, he saw the broken look she had in her eyes. Those were the same broken eyes he saw the night he walked out on her.

“What the fuck do you want?” Y/N hissed obviously not happy to see him outside her door. “Y/N, I’m not here to fight.” Jason told her in a stern tone. “You have no business being here, so I don’t give a fuck why you are here.” Y/N told him in a snappy tone. She went to close the door, but Jason stopped it from closing with one of his feet.

“Y/N, please. It’s important.” Jason told her. Y/N noticed the serious look in his eyes, so she knew he was telling the truth. “Fine.” Y/N said with a heavy sigh and walked away. Jason walked into the apartment and closed the door. He followed Y/N into the living room. She sat down on the chair while he sat down onto the couch.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked him. “Barbara sent me here because we are dealing with a girl named Cupid. She’s already left two men dead in alleyways with an arrow in them.” Jason explained to her. “All I’m going to tell you is that she’s a skilled archer just like my dad.” Y/N told him and stood up.

She went to walk into the kitchen, but Jason quickly stood up and grabbed one of her arms. “That’s it?” Jason asked her. “You’re not going to help me take her down.” Jason added which made Y/N let out a heavy sigh. She pulled her arm out of his grip. “No, because that’s not who I am anymore.” Y/N told him which took him by surprise.

“You’re not Siren anymore?” Jason asked with a surprised look on his face. “Why?” He asked her. “Going out there as Siren just reminds me too much of what happened between us.” Y/N told him looking away from his gaze.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Jason told her with sincere in his voice. “If that was fucking true you wouldn’t have said what you said.” Y/N told him in a snappy tone. “I didn’t fucking know saving your boyfriend from a bullet was such a wrong thing. I didn’t know saving your boyfriend would make him lash out at you and just fucking leave you all by yourself!” Y/N told him looking back at him with a glare in her eyes.

Jason heard the pain in her voice. He regrets everything he said to her that night. Everyday he wishes he could go back in time and take back every word he said to her that night.

“I-” Jason started to say but she immediately cut him off. “You need to leave, now.” Y/N told him in a stern tone. Jason knew not to argue with her, so he walked out of the apartment. At least he gave her something.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The past couple of days Jason and Barbara had been tracking Cupid. Tonight was finally the night Jason was going to attack. They thought tonight was the perfect night, but it wasn’t going as Jason planned.

Jason was in his Red Hood gear getting his ass kicked by Cupid. When Y/N said Cupid is a skilled archer she forgot to mention that Cupid was also a skilled martial arts fighter. He got thrown into one of the concrete walls. He was too worn out to get back up.

“Now.” Cupid said as she walked up to him. She had her bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. “It’s time to put you out of your fucking misery.” Cupid said aiming her arrow at Jason’s chest. Before she could shoot the arrow a siren like scream knocked Cupid down making her drop her arrow and bow. When the screaming stopped Jason looked over to see Y/N standing there in her Siren suit.

“Long time no see, Cupid.” Y/N said walking towards her. Y/N picked up Cupid’s bow. “Did you miss me?” Y/N asked with a taunting smirk. Cupid let out a growl as she got back up onto her feet. Before she could charge at Y/N, she used the bow to hit Cupid across the head. Cupid fell down onto the hard ground unconscious. “Crazy bitch.” Y/N hissed throwing the bow down onto the ground.

Y/N walked over to Jason. “Are you okay?” Y/N asked helping him up. “Nothing, but some cuts.” Jason told her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After the cops picked Cupid up Y/N took Jason back to her apartment to help address his cuts. She had him sitting on the couch. He had two deep cuts on his shoulder that she had to stitch up. Jason was sitting on the couch with just his pants on while Y/N sat next to him stitching up the cuts. There was a comfortable silence between the two.

“All done.” Y/N said after wrapping up his arm, so the stitches stay safe and in place. “Thanks.” Jason told her. Y/N just gave him a nod as she put all of the supplies back into the first aid kit.

“I thought you weren’t Siren anymore?” Jason asked her. Y/N let out a sigh as she closed the first aid kit that was sitting on the table. “Y/N.” Jason said in a soft voice. “I was scared that you would’ve been Cupid’s next victim.” Y/N told him without looking at him.

Jason took one of her hands into his’s which made her look at him. “Everything I said to you that night wasn’t directed at you, but it was directed at me.” Jason told her. “What?” Y/N asked in a confused tone. “When you took that bullet for me, I thought I was going to lose you.” Jason confessed as his eyes started to fill with tears. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” Jason cried which made Y/N’s heart ache for him.

“Jason.” Y/N said putting her free hand onto one of his cheeks. She wiped away some of his tears with her thumb. She had tears streaming down her face, too. “Please take me back. I love you so much.” Jason said looking into her eyes. Y/N gave him a nod. “I love you, too.” Y/N told him.

“Want to start over?” Jason asked her. “Yes.” Y/N said with a nod. Jason leaned in and connected his lips with hers. Y/N returned the kiss. It felt so right for them to be back together, again.