#they didn't care. because they loved her. I remember that moment ALL the time it affected me ACUTELY and it still does to this day

[s-wave-entertainment]

*BAM*

THAT WAS THE SOUND OF ME BUSTING THE DOOR DOWN. HI. Okay so first thing's first, I recently saw an animatic (??) by @/armintist on Instagram about N's perception of Tessa as of ep. 6 and it has broken the dam. Your honor I think about what must have been going through his head at that given moment So Often; some may say too often (I know my roommate definitely would, sorry Anna-). Y'all, he literally just remembered her existence and because we have no canon timeline as to how long was between eps. 5&6, I'm going to assume it was no LESS than two hours, IF EVEN. Doll could have gone straight to "Tessa" from Uzi's house, we'll never know. But like... what in the fuck was going on in his brain? This person, who he KNOWS that he knows, that he has vague, barely comprehensible memories of from a time far back into his past that he only just got back, is suddenly standing right in front of him again. And he hesitates, because OF COURSE HE DID. It looks like her (or does it? He doesn't remember his face, he never even truly saw it), it sounds like her, it feels like her... but how long has it been? And why here, why now?

Honestly, "Cyn's" pretty smart. She knew he would be willing to go along with what he told her because he's never really pressed into his memories before. He's relieved the tidbits of them, sure, but he tends to acknowledge them and move on. She knew all she had to do was act right and he would probably trust her. But what she didn't account for was him finding a love worth fighting for, and that's where her ultimate fucky-wucky was. But I'm not here to talk about "Cyn's" strategy, I'm here to talk about our beloved traumatized murder robot puppy.

What do you think happened when it hit him that that skin over Cyn's body wasn't of it's own creation? That his friend was technically still alive, if you count her preserved remains being thrown over a robot body like some sick and twisted reverse fursuit. And it can't be said that that didn't happen, because it definitely did. N's little episode in the hallway while "Cyn" hunted them down showed us that he is in fact recovering his memories. Slowly, and at very unfortunate times, but he is. And I can almost guarantee you that at some point, in some way, he must have recovered the full memory of the gala massacre. And oh me oh my, that must have been a long, hard day for him. Thank God he has Uzi now-

That aside, he must eventually realize what happened. And as he remembers more and more good times with her, his little heart probably just shattered more and more. Along with all of the other BULLSHIT he must be remembering following ep. 8.

AND ANOTHER THING ON THAT NOTE. I have so so so many emotions about N and how good he is and how,,,, Genuinely Good his heart is. Like actually. Y'all, need I remind the court that he was supposed to KILL Uzi. He had her PINNED TO THE WALL with a wing, but after watching her father turn around and ABANDON HER, he stopped. And sure, it can be reasonably said that this is because he spent some time with Uzi beforehand, but how long would they have had together, logistically? Ten minutes, maybe twenty, tops?? The fact that that was enough for him to COMPLETELY CHANGE SIDES and want to help her instead (which is also attributed to the conversation they had in the cockpit but again, TEN MINUTES)... listen, Uzi had no one before she found N, but N had no one either. J openly abused him, and V had to act like she hated him to protect him. N was lonely, just like Uzi. Somehow, someone found him who was kind to him and seemed to actually care. She was a little edgy, but she talked to him and she listened. It was more than he had at the base - and the same was true for Uzi. But again, I could talk about how much I love NUZI for hours, right now I want to talk about how good N's heart is. He was a worker, once. A worker who did everything he could to be... useful, to Tessa's parents, but a good friend to Tessa. And he loved his friends. He has,,, so much love in his heart. He always has. And he gives it so readily, and it can hurt him, but he like - he gets better about it, I believe. He can guard himself better these days, but he just. He still cares. And he cares so much and he just. GOD. GOD I LOVE HIM AND I FEEL SO TERRIBLE FOR WHAT HE'S BEEN THROUGH. FUCKING HELL-

[piinksdoll]

→ [808 | Spencer Reid/Emily Prentiss]

Pairing~ Spencer Reid x Fem!Bau!Reader, Emily Prentiss x Fem!Bau!Reader

Genre~ angst, fluff, kissing

Word Count~ 2.8k

Warnings~ heartbreak, wine thats rlly it

a/n~ k this is very angsty, sad spence, sad reader, cute emily tho so yeah! have fun lmk what yall think! also NOT PROOFREAD!!!!

Today is the day. October 17th. 808 days. 

Spencer and I have been together for 808 days. I've counted every day since the first time he said ‘I love you’. I remember that day like it was yesterday. It was after a particularly hard case, and I had gotten hurt. After coming back to Quantico he insisted on driving me home. He walked me to my door and stood in front of me. His hands were trembling, the rain soaked his hair and his clothes. He looked at me with pure adoration before the words left his lips. “I love you Y/n.” 

I have been up for 6 hours, pacing my apartment trying to prepare myself for what's to come. He's on his way here and I know why. It’s over.

I glance up at the clock, 7:58. He’ll be here any minute. Suddenly I'm snapped out of my thoughts with the knock on my door. I opened the door and there he stood.  “Come in.” I moved out the way to let him in. He enters my apartment, his eyes scanning the familiar surroundings as if he’s trying to memorise every detail. The warmth of my home feels so stark against the chill of the situation.

“Hey.” His voice barely above a whisper. “Hey.” I replied, my voice almost inaudible. “Do you want some coffee or-?” I start, desperate to break the silence, but he cuts me off. “No, I- ” He hesitates, glancing down at the floor before meeting my eyes. “I think we need to talk. I swallow hard, nodding slowly as the knot in my stomach tightens. “Yeah, I think we do.”

“Y/n, I don't know how to say this. I've been thinking about us, about everything.” He looked at me with those damn brown eyes. I could melt in them. “I think... I think we need to take a break. I need time to figure things out.” My brows furrowed in confusion. “Spencer. I don't know what to say to you.”

He nods slowly, tears pooling in his eyes. “I think it’s for the best. For both of us.” I shook my head, laughing bitterly at his words. “The best? For both of us? No Spencer, I think this is just for you.” His brow furrows, confusion mixed with hurt flashing across his face. “What do you mean?” I close my eyes trying to stop my tears from falling. “I mean, you’ve found something with JJ, haven’t you?” I cross my arms defensively, my heart racing. “You’re too scared to admit it, but you want her. You’re using ‘us’ as an excuse to justify leaving.”

“That’s not true!” he protests, his voice rising slightly. “I didn’t plan for any of this to happen. You know how much I care about you.” I shake my head at his words. 

“No Spencer, you don't because if you did, we wouldn't be here. Don't act like there's nothing going on between you too because there is. I've seen the stolen glances, the lingering touches. Do you think im stupid? I've seen the way you look at eachother so don't. Don't try to pretend you care about my feelings because you do not.” A sob escapes my lips. My hands are shaking and tears are streaming down my face as I continue “You don't get it do you? You are my whole world Spencer. I'd give my life for you and all I get is ‘I didn't plan for this to happen?’ You’re leaving me for one of, not only yours, but also my best friend. Like who does that to someone they love.” I shake my head, my tears blurring my vision, and for a moment, it feels like the world is collapsing around me. 

“I thought we had something special,” I say, my voice cracking. “Every day for 2 years, I believed we were building a future together. But now, here we are, and you’re throwing it all away.”

“Just go Spencer, I can't look at you without it ripping my heart out.” My voice trembles. He freezes for a moment, his hand still hovering over the doorknob, and I can see the hurt in his eyes “Y/N…” he starts, but I can’t bear to hear any more. “Please,” I choke out, forcing myself to meet his gaze one last time. “Just go.” His eyes search mine, a mixture of longing and despair etched across his face, and I want to scream at him to stay, to tell him I’ll forgive him, that we can work through this. But I can't do that to myself.  “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking as he leaves my apartment for the last time. 

My knees give in, I hit the floor unable to hold myself up. A gut wrenching scream leaves my lips, it feels as if the walls are closing in on me suffocating me with the weight of my heartbreak. I curl into myself, clutching my arms around my legs, the tears flowing freely now as sobs wrack my body. Each cry is a release, a desperate attempt to let go of the pain that clings to me like a second skin. It's over

—

Tonight is the first pasta and wine night at Rossi’s since Spencer left me for JJ. I smooth out my dress before heading out. Emily came to pick me up, “Hey, gorgeous! Ready to have some fun?” she asks, pulling me into a quick hug. I force a smile. “Yeah, let’s do this.” 

The drive to Rossi’s was quiet. I felt like Emily wanted to say something but chose not to pry. As we pulled into the driveway of Rossi’s gorgeous house, I saw Spencer’s car already parked. It made my stomach uneasy. I feel a pang in my chest, but I shake it off as we step inside.

“Y/N! Emily! You made it!” Penelope squeals, rushing over to pull me into a tight hug. Her excitement is contagious, and I can’t help but smile. “Of course! Wouldn’t miss Rossi’s cooking for the world,” I reply, attempting to sound cheerful. I felt Emily squeeze my hand, she gave me an encouraging smile as we walked further into the house. 

I catch glimpses of Spencer and JJ together as we walk past the kitchen into the living room. They’re sitting side by side on the couch, sharing quiet laughs and playful nudges. The way Spencer leans closer to her, the way JJ tucks her hair behind her ear, it all feels like a cruel reminder of what I’ve lost. I swallow hard, forcing myself to look away.

I walk back into the kitchen not wanting to witness them for another second taking a seat on the island with Emily standing next to me. “How are you doing bella?” Rossi asks concern etched on his face as he sets down a plate of freshly baked garlic bread.

I force a smile, trying to mask the hurt inside me. “I’m okay. Just… enjoying the night.” He gives me a knowing look, one that makes my heart sink a little. “You know I’m here for you, right? You don’t have to put on a brave face for me. And I know you’ll find someone, in fact they may be closer than you think.” I look at him confused. “Thanks, Rossi,” I reply, my voice soft. “I appreciate it.” I look back at Emily whose cheeks are now covered in a pink hue.

“What’s going on with you two?” I ask, raising an eyebrow playfully to mask my curiosity. She straightens up, her demeanour shifting. “Nothing! Just… a little wine, that’s all,” she stammers, glancing at the glass in her hand as if it holds all the answers. “Uh-huh, sure,” I tease.

After dinner we all begin to, wine is flowing a little more freely, and laughter filling the spaces between conversation. I catch JJ glancing at me more than once from across the living room, but I do my best to avoid her eyes, pretending to be focused on Emily’s story about some misadventure with Penelope. Eventually, JJ stands up “I’ll be right back,” she whispers to Spencer before making her way to the couch im seated on, and I feel the dread in my stomach grow as she walks towards me.

“Y/N?” JJ’s voice is gentle as she comes to stand by me. “Can we… talk for a second?” I hesitate, glancing at Emily, who gives me a subtle nod. I take a deep breath, then nod, standing up to follow JJ out of the living room and onto the back patio. The cool winds brushed me, I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself. 

“Y/N,” JJ begins softly, “I know I should’ve talked to you sooner. I just… I didn’t want to hurt you more than I already have.” I blink back the sting of tears in my eyes, She takes a breath, “I didn’t plan for any of this to happen. It just… did. And I’m sorry. I never wanted to cause you pain.” I nod slowly, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “I know, JJ,” I whisper, my voice softer than I expected. “But you did. You really hurt me.”

JJ’s face falls, and I can see the guilt in her eyes as she steps a little closer, her voice shaky. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. And you have every right to not forgive me or let me in your life. I care about you. You’re my family.”

I give her a small, sad smile. “That’s the thing, Jaje,” I say quietly. “You’re like my big sister. I’ve always looked up to you, trusted you. That’s why this hurts so much. I don’t know why you’d do this.”

She looks down, biting her lip as tears well up in her eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you,” she says again, her voice breaking. “It just… I don’t know how to explain it. Spencer and I, we just…”

I shake my head, cutting her off gently. “You don’t have to explain. I get it. These things happen, and I know you didn’t plan for it. But it still hurts, JJ.” Her shoulders sag, and I can see the weight of her guilt bearing down on her. “I know,” she whispers, tears spilling over. “And I wish I could take it back. I really do.” I reach out, placing my hands on her arms lightly, offering her an understanding look. “I can forgive you, JJ,” I tell her softly. “With time, I will. But right now… I just need space. I need time to heal.” JJ nods, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I understand. And I’m so sorry, Y/N. I wish I could make it right.”

“I know you are,” I reply. “And I appreciate that you’re here, apologising. But it’s going to take time.” She sniffs, trying to compose herself. “If you ever want to talk, I’ll be here. I just want you to know that.”

I give her a small nod. “Thanks, JJ. You’ll always be my sister. No matter what. I love you.” JJ’s breath hitches at my words, her eyes widening in surprise. But as I pull her into a tight hug, I feel her tense body soften against mine, and she wraps her arms around me in return. “I love you too, Y/N,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “I always will.” I give her a warm smile before returning to the group. 

—

It’s been a month since everything with Spencer and JJ. A long, painful month, but slowly, things have been getting easier. I’ve been spending more time with Emily lately. She’s been there for me, a constant source of support when I needed it most. What started as a few friendly drinks after work or late-night phone calls turned into something more, a connection I hadn’t realised was forming. 

Tonight, the team is out for drinks, one of those rare evenings where the case is over, and for once, we don’t have to rush off to the next one. The bar is lively, the music loud, and the energy infectious. Emily and I have been dancing for the past hour, laughing and letting loose. I haven’t felt this carefree in a long time. I step away from the dance floor for a second, and go to the table where Derek, Penelope, Aaron, Rossi, and Spencer were sat. Emily and JJ went to grab drinks. 

“So, you and Prentiss looked pretty cozy out there. Do I sense a relationship perhaps?” Derek teases me, nudging my shoulder with a playful grin, I roll my eyes, trying to play it off, but I can feel a blush creeping up my face. “Derek, it’s not like that,” I protest, though my voice betrays me. 

Penelope leans in, her eyes have a look of mischief. “Uh-huh, sure. You’ve been glued to each other all night. Just saying.” Even Hotch cracks a small smile, sipping his drink. “It’s been nice to see you so relaxed lately,” he says, with genuine warmth in his voice. I can’t help but smile back “I’m just enjoying the night, guys. And even if I like her, who says she likes me?” They all look at me in shock, “Y/n be serious for a second, she cant get enough of you. You guys are attached at the hip every second you’re together.” Penelope exclaimed, trying to convince me. “I- I don't know you guys…” I shake my head reluctantly, as Morgan is about to reply Emily and JJ come back with drinks for everyone. “What’re we talking about?” Emily asked as she slid into the booth next to me. “They’re being ridiculous as always and I kinda wanna leave…” I whispered the last part leaning into her shoulder. “Alright we can leave, ok you guys I think we’re done for the night. We're gonna head out!” I let out a breath of relief as we made our way out of the bar. 

Emily took my hand into hers shooting chills up my spine. I thought about Penelope and Derek’s words, could she really see me like that? Especially after seeing me and supporting my relationship with one of our mutual friends? As I was about to speak up Emily beat me to it. 

“You know, you're someone I look forward to seeing everyday Y/n.” The look in her eyes made my heart skip a beat. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, I swallowed, nervousness and excitement swirling inside me. “Emily…” I look down to hide the grin forming on my face. 

“And I don't want to rush you. I know this isn't where you thought you'd be but Y/n I- I like you a lot. And I underst-” she continued, but before she could finish I reached up pressing my lips against hers. 

Emily froze for a split second before melting into the kiss, her hand coming up to gently cup my face. The world seemed to stop as we stood there, wrapped in each other, my heart pounding in a way I hadn’t felt in so long. It felt like all the tension and unspoken words from the past few months were pouring out between us in that single, tender moment.

When we finally broke apart, she kept her forehead pressed to mine, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t think I’d be this lucky tonight.” I let out a shaky laugh, feeling a surge of emotions that I’d tried to ignore for so long. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way again… but here you are.”

Emily smiled, her thumb brushing over my cheek as she pulled me close. “One step at a time, okay? We don’t have to figure it all out tonight.” I nodded, a wave of relief washing over me. “Yeah. I’d like that. One step at a time.”

(Spencer’s Pov)

I stepped out of the bar and caught sight of Y/N and Emily up ahead, walking together under the dim glow of the streetlights, her hand held in Emily’s. My heart clenched. Not being with her has been eating away at me, more than I wanted to admit. She was right about everything—how I took her for granted, how I’d let myself fall for JJ, that I lost sight of what really mattered.

Seeing her now, laughing softly with Emily, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. I’d tried to convince myself that walking away was for the best, that it would be easier on both of us, but watching her find happiness without me made it all feel final. She deserves someone who would make her feel seen, who wouldn’t let her slip through their fingers. And maybe Emily could be that person in a way I never could.

As they turned the corner, I hesitated, realising I didn’t have a reason to go after her anymore, and it ripped my heart out. 

“2 years, and 75 days…”

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Poly!plastics x sassy!reader

A usually quiet reader now sassy towards everyone but their girlfriends and the plastics are loving it

"Prince Charming"

|| poly!plastics x sassy!nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; short drabble, brief swearing, guy tries to flirt with the plastics, brief almost misgendering moment, reader insulting the guy

|| Summary; when a guy tries to flirt with the plastics, reader takes control of the situation.

Requests open!

Started; November 6th

Finished; November 6th

~~~

This was not the you the plastics had come to know. Usually, you were quite quiet. They weren't sure what had gotten into you recently and honestly? It was hot. You'd gone from quiet to sassy and witty in just a few short days. Gretchen was sure it was because they were rubbing off on you. Regina didn't care for the reason, she was just taking it all in. Finding it rather amusing. While Karen didn't really know what was going on, other than you were talking a whole lot more than you used to.

Lunch today started off calm. You were sitting next to Regina like you usually did, Gretchen and Karen across from you. Holding hands and giggling about something you weren't sure of. That's when some idiot decided to be brave today. He walked right over to the table, buddies laughing and nudging each other in the background. His eyes roamed the four of you as he grinned. Trying to seem more charming than he really was.

"Hey, ladies~ and uh, Y/N." He added the last bit awkwardly, seeming to remember from Regina's glare that you were nonbinary. You held back a laugh and have Regina a thankful smile.

"Whatever it is, go away. We're busy." Regina gestured to the four of them with both hands. They weren't all that busy, really it was just simple conversations. With no topics being particularly important. Regina was clearly just trying to get him to leave them alone.

"Oh come on, don't got room for one more?" He asked, trying to sit down next to you. Regina's sharp glare and possessive grip around your waist made him think twice.

"Oh absolutely not." You made a fake gagging sound, earning a laugh from Gretchen and Regina. Karen looked a little concerned, having thought it was real.

"Baby, you okay?" Karen asked, you glanced at her and gave her a subtle nod. She seemed to relax a bit after that.

You looked back at the guy and stood, giving him a once over as you folded your arms across your chest. "Your clothes are tacky, your hair style is- just, wow really? Hope you didn't pay for that. And the fake "prince charming" trick? Also, why do all men feel the need to lower their voices?" You looked back at your girls, Gretchen and Karen both looked stunned as you just clocked this guy. With no hesitation or stutter. Regina meanwhile, was laughing her ass off. Oh she wished she recorded that. Wherever you seem to have gotten your newly found sass from... she was not complaining.

The guy was at a total lost for words. Mouth opening and then closing again serval times, trying to come up with at least some comeback.

"Ugh, close your mouth. I can smell your breath from here." You scoffed, settling yourself back down next to Regina. Regina grinned as you sat with her, her arm going back around your waist and pulling you impossibly close. She kissed the crook of your neck softly. Gently nibbling on the spot as she hummed.

As for him, he stood there for a moment. Before walking back to his table, head down and tail between his legs. Even his buddies looked a little stunned by everything they just overheard you say. Cause damn.

"That was so hot." Regina murmured against your skin, the feeling of her breath sending shivers down your spine. Gretchen nodded in agreement.

"Literally like so cool!" Gretchen replied, you smiled at them. Finding yourself relax under Regina's touches.

"I'll keep that in mind." You were almost hoping there would be another moment like that. You just wanted to show off to your girls now.

[musical-chick-13]

unpopular opinion: I loved Eurus Holmes. She made s4 so much better and she had great chemistry with Sherlock. I feel like people only dislike her due to the old “a woman wrote by Moffay?? must hate!”

BIG AGREE!!

I mean, this is basically the Problematic Women Blog, so this comes as no surprise to anyone, probably, but as many issues as I had with season 4 (one of which, I will admit, was the way they hand-waved how she could, for all intents and purposes, mind control people), I greatly enjoyed watching her. She was smart, she was terrifying, and she was incredibly vulnerable too! All of which is a hard balance to strike well, but I think it really worked here.

The reveal of her identity-and that she was the woman John had been texting-was wonderfully done, and the scene where Sherlock hugs her while she's having her breakdown legitimately had me in tears the first time I saw it. She added a lot to the Holmes family dynamic, and Siân Brooke did a fantastic job of not making Eurus a direct clone of either of her brothers.

One of my biggest pet peeves is how people immediately dismiss (or actively, vitriolically spew hatred at) any woman in a Steven Moffat property just for the sake of talking about how much they hate Steven Moffat. Which it's fine if you hate him or think he's a terrible writer. But I think it's reductive and unhelpful to automatically write off every single female character in his shows and to refuse to consider them on even the slightest deeper level.

send me controversial or unpopular opinions and I'll tell you if I agree or disagree

[writersdrug]

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of man who:

In your shared home, always sits with his legs spread. Manspreading king. Adores it when you cross your arms and give him a disapproving look, saying there's no room for you. "Course there is, luv. Jus' sit between my thighs."

Refuses to let you do simple tasks around the house, like making tea, folding his underwear, or putting away the dishes. One might think it's a sweet, husbandly gesture - but he's just super picky. You made tea in the microwave once, and now you're banned from ever touching his tea stash. Likes his underwear folded in a specific way, and you don't understand the importance of it. He got tired of you stuffing his underwear in his drawer, so now he folds it himself. And the dishes? Couldn't stand how you put them away. "There's no rhyme or reason to 'em." "I didn't think there had to be, Si-" "Just gimme the damn bowl." Fewer chores? You aren't complaining.

Looks like he's always on edge - and he is, kinda. When he's out with you, he can't help but be alert and watchful, and extremely protective of you. You've tried to get him to loosen up - it's the supermarket, what could happen? - but have just come to accept it as his nature. Plus, you get that giddy feeling when you see other men look straight down at the floor, avoiding Simon's stare as the two of you pass.

Is the grumpiest, poutiest, and most indignant man ever when he gets sick. Doesn't want you doting on him in case you catch whatever he has. But, wait - where are you going? "Get your ass back in this bed - 'm cold." Grumbles like a child when you force him to let you get up to grab him soup, tea, or medicine. And no, he doesn't care how sick he is, he's not wearing that stupid, floppy ice pack hat.

Brings Johnny over unannounced, and you've grown used to it. The moment you hear that Scottish yapping out the front door as the key unlocks, you grab a third plate for dinner - he insists you don't need to feed him, but you always make extra for Simon's lunch the next day regardless, and the last time he'd said that, he ended up grabbing an extra fork and picking from Simon's plate. Which, of course, had Simon up at 1 am making instant ramen because he was still hungry, but didn't have the heart to ask you to make him a decent meal. So, yes, Johnny would be fed.

Loves spoiling you on your birthday. What is a man if not someone who spoils his partner rotten? Orders in food from your favorite bakery, sets all your presents neat and nice on the table (the excellent wrapping job done by yours truly, Gaz), flower petals sprinkled on the ground and the table top (also Gaz's idea), and a seat on his lap so for you while you open your presents. Loves watching your face light up, and each little "you remembered?!" fall from your lips as you open each gift. Scoffs and shifts in his seat. "I's not that much of a fuss, luv..." as you squeal excitedly, but you know he's biting back a proud smile. The blush, he can't even attempt to hide.

Is somehow a magnet for your young nephews. Every time he comes along to your sister's place, he's either making conversation with her husband in the living room, or he's interrogated and cornered by her two sons. And, lord help him, he doesn't understand it either. He'd always expected kids to look at him like a monster, but, especially with these two, that was never the case. They'd ask him for stories about "being in war" - half of the time, he'd make up some not-too-gory adventure, sparing them the details of real war. The rest of the time, he'd talk about "Soap, my mate who blows everything up." And they'd listen with wide eyes and jaws on the floor.

Has scared you unintentionally, more than too many times. He'd come home at three in the morning from a mission, and all he wanted was to quietly peel his dirty uniform off and slip into bed with you. His main intention was to avoid waking you up, because you'd force him to shower before joining you in bed - and he was too tired for that. However, you'd been rounding the corner, up for your 3 am glass of water - you screamed as you saw the hulking, dark figure by the front door, launching your phone at him. He'd caught it effortlessly and shoved it into his back pocket. "What've I told ya 'bout using the bat?" "I was just getting water!" "I coulda been anyone." "Well you're not." "Missed ya, luvie." "Missed you too- but you're grimy. Go take a-" "No." He grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, ignoring your protests as he hauled you back to bed.

[social-cocoon]

I read Nona the Ninth and I didn't think I could be MORE in love with this series but here I am

[lowkeyerror]

Ours Together

Agatha Harkness x Reader x Rio Vidal

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: Spoilers for Agatha All Along (entire series), Angsty, hurt/comfort (ig), Happy ending, Familiar!Reader, Familiar lore for this: They are weakened when away from the witch they are connected with, being with the witch amplifies powers, think of the familiar here as some mythical creature close to a witch but not exactly

Summary: When Agatha and coven summon a Green Witch to the road, they're surprised to be met with 2 people instead of 1. You yourself we're surprised and disappointed to be trapped with Rio and Agatha

An: Another one so soon... they're on my mind

Masterlist | Part 2

“Uh who is that?”

The coven was so distracted by Agatha’s reaction to Rio, that no one saw you struggling to climb out of the ground behind her.

“I’m Y/n, and I could use some assistance,” you say stretching out your hand.

Teen and Alice are the one’s that eventually help you out of the ground.

“I though we only summoned one witch,” Jen eyes you skeptically.

“I'm sorry what?”

You take in your surroundings frowning at the darkness. Your frown grows even larger when you spot Rio and Agatha.

“We're on the witch's road and-”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “Beg pardon?”

“The witch’s road it’s-”

You shake your head, “Not real.”

“Then explain this sweetheart?” Agatha speaks and you glare at her.

“You of all people know that the road is a scam,” your jaw clenches as you speak to her.

“You’re more feisty than I remember, pet,” her voice keeps a teasing aura around it.

“Don’t call me that,” you snap at her, voice echoing, with your eyes being absorbed black.

The outburst makes everyone except Rio and Agatha jump back.

“Now, now ladies play nice,” Rio interjects.

“Send me home, now,” you speak to her.

Rio tilts her head, “I think I to want to stay awhile, just to see how things turn out.”

You groan and move to walk in the back of the pack. Agatha refocuses the group and they continue to move forward.

You watch as Rio attempts to rile up Agatha. You see the woman in purple stiffen a few times, throwing her hands around wildly. It makes you want to laugh, centuries pass, but her mannerisms stay easy to read.

Once Rio has had enough of Agatha she trails to the end of group by your side.

“Long time no see hot stuff,” she tries.

“Not long enough,” you shoot back at her.

Rio pouts, “I thought you came along to be reunited.”

“You know I have to go with you if you're summoned liked that,” you mumble mostly to yourself.

“Oh that's right, because we’re fated for each other,” Rio says dreamily.

“Because I'm your familiar,” you correct her.

She shrugs, “Same thing.”

You redirect the conversation, “Why haven't we left yet? You know as well as I do that this is not real.”

Her eyes shift to the ground, “You haven't missed her? Even a little?”

You inhale sharply, “Of course I have, but I respect her wanting nothing to do with us. Rio, we can never undo what we did to her.”

“It wasn't our fault,” her fist clench at her sides.

You guard drops for a moment. Your hand finds it’s way into her grip.

“I know,” you speak solemnly.

“Sometimes I wish-”

You squeeze her hand, “Don’t you dare. I loved him, you loved him, and she loved him.”

“I don’t understand why she let’s people think those things about her.”

“If there’s one thing Agatha still cares about, it’s her image. That’s one of the few marks on her life where she’s soft and no one can know that,” you whisper.

You feel Rio's eyes lingering on you, “I’ve missed you.”

“I don't want to do this here,” you refuse to look at her.

“Well this is the only chance I’ve gotten with either of you in a long time. I don’t want to waste it,” Rio shifts her gaze ahead of her.

“And who’s fault is that Rio?”

You attempt to take your hand out of her's, but she doesn't let you. You let out an irritated sigh.

“With you, it’s my fault. I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

You didn't think you'd ever hear Death apologize. It was unexpected and you didn't know how to respond. You wanted to forgive her, but was this all she had to do to regain your trust?

“Did you know it hurts physically to keep my distance from you? As your familiar I’m supposed to stay relatively close to you. When I’m not it’s like my body is burning inside. I had to get used to that feeling after you kicked me out of your life. This is the first time in over 2 centuries that I'm not in pain.”

“I thought you would’ve come back,” she says it with more sorrow than sarcasm.

“Why would I, when it felt like you didn't want me?”

Your eyes lock on Agatha’s figure, “I wasn’t enough for you, either of you.”

Rio stops walking, “You were enough. You are enough. I became obsessed with finding Agatha and it sent me down a darker path than I realized. I wanted to find her so desperately that I let it affect things between us.”

You finally meet her eyes, “I loved her too. I feel like you always forgot, that my heart beats for her. That I belong to her just like I belong to you. I was already hurting then and then you-”

“Let’s move it losers the next trial is waiting,” Agatha says from the entrance of a house, that was not there before.

You finally free your hand from Rio's, “Forget it.”

You walk faster hoping to avoid anymore of this conversation. You go through the door and when you do it’s like you're in the 70’s.

The rest of the coven finds a mirror to check out their wardrobe. Teen points out a potential way to trigger the task and then they disperse. Leaving only you, Agatha, and Rio.

“Well don’t you look good enough to eat, sweetheart,” Agatha comes up behind you.

You turn getting ready to say something snarky, but your eyes are immediately drawn to the low cut of her shirt. The exposed skin looking better than you had remembered it. You begin to wonder if it still felt soft too.

“Boo,” Rio pops up behind Agatha.

You notice that Rio’s shirt also has a deep v cut. It makes you chuckle a bit.

“What’s so funny?” Agatha says, clearly annoyed by Rio’s presence.

“I just think it’s funny the road gave you matching deep V’s.”

Rio chimes in, “It’s because we go together. Don’t we, Agatha?”

“No,” Agatha walks away after that.

You see Rio briefly deflate and you place a hand on her shoulder, “You’ll get her champ.”

“And you?” She looks at you in only the way that she can. Doe eyes, warmth & sorrow mixed together, pleading for the best outcome.

“I’m your familiar, Rio. Eventually it’s in my best interest to come back to you,” you reply and try to walk off.

“You are my love, Y/n. More than you’re my familiar,” her words stop you.

“Good to know,” is all you can manage to say before walking off.

You look around a bit, wondering exactly how this was all possible. You knew that road wasn't real, so where were you? What was this, and how did Agatha manage to get others to do this with her?

You notice after awhile Agatha and Rio are missing. Against your better judgment you look for them. You find them in what looks like a producer’s area. They’re stood next to each other talking about the glory days.

You don’t interfere until you see Agatha’s hand slide across the intercom. Before Rio can fall into Agatha’s poorly executed trap, you clear your throat interrupting the conversation.

You walk over cautiously, and fit yourself in-between the pair, effectively moving Agatha away from the intercom.

“Planning a character assassination so soon, Agatha? What’s the rush?”

Rio’s eyes land on the intercom and she laughs, “Clever as the day we met.”

“I see you’re taking her side again,” Agatha says pointedly.

“I never took sides and you know that,” you fire back at her.

Agatha scoffs, “Well you came out of the dirt together so…”

“You know how the summoning work Agatha, don’t play dumb,” you counter.

Agatha throws her hands up in exasperation, “So what, I’m supposed to believe that you two haven’t been living it up together this whole time.”

“Why do you think I was alone when I came to see Agnes?” Rio interjects.

Agatha stumbled for a moment, “Because it would’ve been weird to have another person with you in my show.”

“I haven’t seen Rio in close to 300 years,” you admit.

“ Boo hoo poor baby. That doesn’t have anything to do with me,” Agatha mocks you.

Your voice takes on an echo again, “IT HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH YOU! YOU LEFT ME!”

Your argument is interrupted by some loud distorted sound. It makes you cover your ears and close your eyes. You gather around Teen who played the record as a clue. The room begins to spin backwards like the record and the sound intensifies.

Agatha smashes the record player on the ground which immediately stops the song.

Lilia speaks up, “We’ve been cursed.”

Its only a matter of seconds before she screeches and hits the floor.

You see this and start muttering under your breath. Alice springs into action taking Rio’s knife and carving a circle around Lilia.

You keep chanting to yourself. Everyone but Agatha and Rio were concerned around Lilia.

“What are you doing?” Agatha questions, but you just keep chanting.

Your fingertips glow dully as you touch them to your shoulders.

“I am protecting myself,” you say once you’re finished.

Jen gets hit next and once again Alice draws a circle around her. Teen also gets attacked, being flung through the glass mirror. Alice reveals that the curse is hers after that. It’s generational, meaning that it is harder to expel than most.

“We have to sing the ballad,” Agatha says.

She goes back and forth with Alice before they come to an agreement. Everyone picks up and instrument except you. You sit as an audience member.

“What, you’re too cool to play?” Jen asks.

“You don’t need me to play, so I’m not playing,” you shoot back.

Teen tries to encourage you, “The more people we have, the easier this might be.”

Your eyes are engulfed by black once more and your voice echoes dangerously , “I’m not playing that song.”

Agatha can’t help but look at Rio in that moment. The pair are the only ones who know why you aren’t interested in singing the song.

“Let’s just start,” Agatha begins singing before anymore arguments could be made.

You hate what has become of the song. Nicky’s sweet song, was now the witch killer’s anthem. You felt like it was disgraceful. It hurt you even more when Agatha did nothing to stop the song from becoming some rock anthem. Finding out that Lorna used it to protect her own daughter softened the blow a little bit, but not entirely.

Watching them preform you notice Teen wincing while holding the guitar. Your eyes scan his body looking for indicators of injury. It’s not highly noticeable, but you spot blood seeping through his side.

Against your own beliefs you stand and begin to walk over to him. You sing the tune lowly under your breath, before taking the guitar from him.

You can see he wants to argue but you nod your head towards the seating area. Your eyes drop to his side to let him know, that you know that he’s hurt.

He looks annoyed, but takes a seat anyway opting to just sing the ballad instead.

Your eyes lock with Rio’s and you glance towards the kid. She shakes her head slightly and you focus on playing the song.

Once Alice defeats her curse, Teen is laid across the sitting area. His breathes are shallow. Agatha is the first to rush over to him.

“He’s bleeding we got to get him out of here.”

You all take him back to the road and lay him across a large stone. You sit back with Rio watching the group panic. The most panic being evident in Agatha.

She turns to Rio, “Don’t.”

The woman beside you makes no gesture. Agatha starts pleading with Jen to fix it.

“She needs water and moonlight,” you speak up.

It seems to give the potions witch an idea. Alice gathers the water and Jen starts chanting in the moonlight. She pours the water over Teen’s injury and it starts to close up.

Agatha’s gaze falls upon you and Rio once more. Before she goes to help move Teen.

“You’re here for him, why?” You ask the woman beside you.

“That’s not his body. I can’t just-”

You shake your head, “You can. So why don’t you want to?”

“Once is already pushing the limit, but to let him get away with it twice. It’s not fair, it’s unbalanced,” Rio argues.

“What is 2 souls to the hundreds of thousands that perish daily? You have William and you will have the other. You and I both know that you don’t need the body to reap the soul.”

She sits quietly, no reply on her tongue.

“I think you’re here because Agatha is here,” you say.

She glares at you and speaks through gritted teeth, “Does it not bother you that she walks down this road with another woman’s son pretending that he’s ours? She knows he’s not.”

You look at the ground.

“I know you hate it, just like you hate what they did to his song,” Rio pushes further.

“Grief is different for everyone. Agatha is still grieving and I don't think she’ll ever stop. I can’t blame her, I grieve him every day. I know you do too,” you speak softly, getting up from your spot.

You leave her with those words. Maybe you shouldn’t seek her out, but you look for Agatha.

You come across the camp set up before you find Agatha.

“Do you have any scars Y/n?” Lilia is the one to ask.

You take a seat around the fire.

“A bunch, physical and emotional,” you lift your shirt.

There's a long scar that goes diagonally across your stomach. Your finger caresses it gently.

“Jesus Christ,” Alice says.

“It’s fairly new,” you keep your eyes on the scar.

“What happened?” Lilia speaks gently.

It’s then that Agatha and Rio join the circle. They sit on either side of you, both looking at the scar.

“Got captured by some witches. They tried to kill me, harvest my organs, etc.”

“How did you get captured?” Agatha asks, not really believing your story.

Your leg starts to bounce a little, “Well, I wasn’t with anyone else and I hadn’t been around… the people I need for my power to be at my strongest. So I was weak in that sense.”

“How did you escape?” Jen asks.

You shook your head, “I got lucky. They got bored eventually because I um- I can’t really die. They ‘left me for dead’ so to speak, but Death never came for me.”

“You’re immortal?” Alice deadpans.

“No one is immortal, I’m just really hard to kill. I have an intense healing factor,” you admit.

“Then why the scars?”

You keep your gaze low, “Because I didn't have my full power. I had enough to close and heal the wound, but the longer I was there the harder it was to make them pretty.”

You hate the silence that follows.

You hear Agatha roll up her sleeve. She gives a one liner about some coven that she wiped out. It’s funny and everyone laughs. You can see it takes her by surprise and it puts a small smile on your face.

“I have scar,” Rio starts.

“No you don't,” you and Agatha say at the same time.

“Yes, I do,” Rio goes on to describe the most fragile parts of your relationship .

She’s vague but you can hear the hurt in her voice. She finishes the story, but doesn’t look at Agatha.

Agatha storms off first, Rio trailing behind her, and you hesitate but ultimately end up following Rio.

Agatha stands with her back towards the both of you. Rio chooses to stay behind her while you walk around to face her.

Agatha’s head lulls back onto Rio’s shoulder. One of her hands snakes it’s way under your shirt, running the path of the scar. You keep close to her, but don’t move.

She puckers her lips as if to kiss Rio. You can see the fight inside of the original green witch. She wants this so badly, but she must push.

You do it for her. Your hands gently grab Agatha’s face pulling her towards you. You close your eyes as your forehead rests against hers.

“My love, Teen is not-”

“I know,” she whispers, and she starts to pull away.

“Please,” you hold her in place. “Please, let me have you close for a second. Both of you.”

It had been centuries since the three of you were this close. The raging fire inside of you finally resting after all this time. The relief that spread through your body was like a cooling agent.

Rio and Agatha both take notice for the first time, realizing how tense you had been since your appearance on the road.

“How long did they keep you?”

“Some years,” you answer quietly.

Agatha whips around to stare at Rio, “Where were you?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Rio redirects the blame.

“I left her with you so -”

“SHE WASN’T SOMETHING TO BE LEFT!” Rio let’s out an outburst. She takes a deep breath before continuing, “She is our familiar. Not mine, not yours, but ours together Agatha. It hurts her to be apart from either of us.”

“What did you want me to do? Forget what you did to my son?”

“OUR SON,” Rio’s voice booms louder than you ever heard it before. You swear the entire road shakes with the reverb.

You move forward to put a hand on Rio’s shoulder. You can feel her shaking with emotion. At first you think it’s anger, but then you see her tears fall.

“He was our son too Agatha. I didn’t want you to forgive me, I’ve never forgiven myself. I wanted you to mourn with me, with Y/n. I wanted us to have each other because we needed it.,” It’s defeated when Rio says it.

“I did mourn,” Agatha argues back.

“No, you didn’t,” you interrupt them, but your eyes were far away.

“How would you know you weren't there?” Agatha retaliates.

You sigh, “You act like I didn't want to be there. Like I was the one running and hiding. I know you haven't mourned because we wouldn’t be here if you had. We all know that this is not real. You’re singing his song… walking this road with this boy that you want to be him.”

“You can't deny my grief.”

“He asked you not to. You promised him, Aggie. It was his last promise.” Your voice cracks as your tears begin to form. “And you didn’t just break it, you took his song. Our song… and you used it to do the one thing he begged you not to.”

By this point you were choking on your sobs. The sight of you broke Agatha’s heart.

“I was grieving, I was angry, and I was alone!”

You fight her again, “You didn't have to be alone!”

“Well we can't go back and fix that, now can we?”

You groan, “No, but we can move forward if you just stop running.”

Rio stops the argument, “Enough! Y/n, she doesn’t care about us. The only person she cares about is herself.”

Agatha lets her anger out, shoving the green witch, “That’s bullshit.”

Rio shoves her back, “Is it now?”

Agatha spears Rio to the ground, “You know that I love both of you. That I care for you more than I’ve cared about anything other than my- our son.”

Rio flips their position so that she’s on top of Agatha, “Then why are we fighting?”

Agatha’s chest heaves up and down; Rio’s moves nearly the same. Agatha's hand reaches up to caress Rio’s face. At that same moment Rio leans in.

They kiss. You gasp , not at all expecting things to turn so quickly. A smile of relief coats your face as you watch them. You feel a pleasant warmth spreading across your chest.

“I love you,” Agatha says against Rio’s lips.

Rio smiles, “I love you too.”

“Finally,” you say exasperatedly, causing them both to laugh.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch like a weirdo or are you going to come over, pet?” Agatha says.

You roll your eyes, but continue to make your way over to them, “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

When you’re close enough Rio pulls you into her quickly stealing a kiss from you. You blush at her brash affection. You try to hide your face in her neck, but Agatha’s finger hooks under your chin.

“What do you suppose I call you then?”

You lean into her grasp, “Yours.”

Her lips graze yours as she speaks, “Mine.”

Your lips meet hers fiercely. She pulls you from Rio's lap fully onto hers. Instead of sliding up your shirt like before her hands travel lower. The feel on her fingers causes you to moan lowly, the sound echoing as your eyes filled with black.

“Not here, not yet,” you feel Rio’s breath tickling your neck.

You whine, “Centuries apart and still teasing.”

Agatha let out a hearty laugh, “Let’s get back to the others.”

Agatha and Rio are up first, helping you to your feet. You walk between them, feeling whole for the first time in a long time. Rio’s hand is in yours, while Agatha runs her fingers through your hair.

You still had things to work out amongst each other. One talk or a kiss cannot fix everything you’ve all been through. Yet talking and kisses amongst the three of you are known to be promises. Promises of a better future united together.

[slyandthefamilybook]

look dawg, the destruction of Magnus Hirschfeld's Institute was an important moment in the Holocaust, but I feel like ever since goyische tumblr learned about it it's literally all they talk about. People have just instantly latched onto it because it's something that makes them feel connected. "Those famous pictures of Nazi book burnings are them burning gay and trans research" comes off as less of recontextualizing history and more of "omg that's me! I'm famous!". The fact that it's brought up in every conversation about the Holocaust now, even when the discussion is about the specific persecution of other groups, is highly suspect. When Jews talk about the Holocaust, we don't view the victims as people like us. They are us. They're our parents and grandparents, our great- uncles and aunts. In every generation we must see ourselves as if we left Egypt

JKR is engaging in Holocaust denial, but it's a soft sort of denial. Someone told her the Nazis hated trans people, and she responded "nuh-uh" because she didn't want to believe trans people have been around for that long. It's bad, sure, but we already knew she was a shitty person. I think it's a better opportunity to discuss the process of radicalization and closed-loop ideological thinking than to shit on the internet's favorite punching bag with your new favorite factoid. Jews right now are experiencing violent antisemitism. Bomb threats, death threats, rape threats have become the norm for a lot of us, but I have yet to see that discussed with the same fervor as JKR being shitty for the gajillionth time. If you truly want to make yourself a part of the living history of the Holocaust, you have to understand how to fight for what's important. You have to learn how to protect what you love, not just destroy what you hate. It's very important not to lose the plot here

It's crucial that we remember that the book burnings were primarily about Jews. Joseph Goebbels proclaimed in Berlin "The era of extreme Jewish intellectualism is now at an end. The breakthrough of the German revolution has again cleared the way on the German path...The future German man will not just be a man of books, but a man of character." The German Student Union described book burnings as a "response to a worldwide Jewish smear campaign against Germany and an affirmation of traditional German values." Science, study, reason, progress were all seen as Jewish plots to destroy society (wonder where else we've seen that). Magnus Hirschfeld was persecuted because he was gay and his Institute was full of gay and trans people, yes. But it was also because he was a Jew, and a man of science who was pushing the boundaries of medical care for LGBT people. Just. something to think about

[vivwritesfics]

Warnings: spit, drool, reader is needy but we love her, blowjob, streamer!lando, voyeurism, dom!lando, cockwarming, calls her a 'good fucking girl', a fic that came to vivi in a dream (a dangerous thing)

I am once again thinking about streamer lando. But, this time, my thoughts are less innocent.

Because in thinking about being sat on the floor beside Lando as he streams. You're by his legs, out of the stream, arm wrapped around his leg.

In short, you wanted something. You wanted him, and lando knew it.

His hand slipped beneath his desk and he gripped your face. The way he would while plowing into you, the way he would to get you to watch your connected bodies.

But wasn't plowing into you this time. Hid thumb moved over your bottom lip, pulling it down. But you made the next move, sucking his finger between your lips.

It placated you... for a little bit. But it was just Lando's thumb, and he was struggling to play with one hand. So, you released his thumb and he brought it back up. If his audience could see how shiny with your spit his thumb was, you didn't care.

You looked up at him with your best puppy dog eyes. But he wasn't looking down at you, too fixated on his game.

Those watching must have seen his chair move slightly as you crawled past it, situating yourself between his legs. Lando didn't tear his eyes away from the screen. He didn't do anything but make it look at though he was adjusting his seat.

You were face to face with his crotch, could see the darker patch forming on the light grey material. Thank God for light grey material.

You didn't pull his shorts down, not yet. No, your mouth met his cock over his clothes. Light kisses at first, just to watch that dark patch grow slightly.

Lando tried to thank for a donation, but his words faltered. You wrapped your lips around his head as best you could through the grey material.

But soon that too got boring. It wasn't as fun as actually having him in your mouth. So, you pulled down his shorts and let him spring free. No underwear, your man was a godsend.

Immediately, you wrapped your lips around him and bobbed your head. A noise left your lips as your nose brushed the curls at his base. Hands on his thighs, you braced yourself to go back up, to play with his lip.

But, suddenly, his hand was in your hair. "Don't even think about it," he growled and you looked up at him with wide eyes. The stream!

But the camera was off and the microphone was muted for the moment. You had his full attention, all you'd wanted all afternoon. A pathetic whine left your lips.

"Nuh-uh, baby," he said almost gently and released his hold on your hair. "You're gonna sit still until the stream ends, okay?" He send.

With his full, thick length down your throat, you could hardly nod. Lando groaned, eyes squeezing shut when you tried. The way his finger moved over your cheek was gentle and almost mocking... you loved it. "Good fucking girl," he said and returned to the stream.

He was right, you were a good fucking girl. There you sat, holding his cock in your mouth for however long he wanted you to. Your knees started to hurt slightly (something you knew Lando wouldn't remember) but you didn't protest. Just that there, his dick surrounded by the warm wet of your mouth.

You loved it. He loved it. It was a win win for everybody.

[i-like-media]

I was wondering when they were going to play with the fact the Doctor is black now. 13 being faced with how people think of women was one of my favourite things in her era, so I was curious how they were going to treat his skin colour this season, if at all.

And honestly, Dot And Bubble exceeded all my expectations on the matter!

What a lot of episodes about racism and bigotry do is coddle the viewer. They make clear early on "this is an episode about RACISM and why it's WRONG!" As if you've never heard of the concept before and don't know it's bad. The episode will often portray racism in an extreme sense and show the viewer the main characters are above that.

What Dot And Bubble did, for the entire episode, was letting the viewer figure it out on their own. There was no coddling, only racism as it silently existed. A perfectly pastel and white community with not a single person of colour and the only visible outlier being a goth white kid. And in this world, the first thing the character we follow did, was to block a black guy with a face of disgust.

The title screen rolls and you're left to rationalise it. Surely it was because he was not in her contact list/saying all kinds of mind blowing stuff... Right? Except when Ruby enters her feed and talks about it, she actually replies back... With an eye roll, but she replies... and keeps talking... and listening.

The episode continues, still not a single POC besides the Doctor. They reveal this is an exclusive place for rich people, and eventually the character in question even admits she thought the Doctor was a different person because "I thought you looked the same".

What this episode also does well, is portraying a character we wish to see change and find a better life behind that change. We see Lindy struggle to navigate the world without her bubble, calling herself stupid, and we genuinely hope she DOES learn to be better, even as you slowly pick up on what's been going on sofar. You are left to hope she'll thank him and realise the error of her ways, and maybe find a new drive to think for herself.

And then she doesn't.

She stays in her bubble, doubling down on how she feels about the Doctor, how they're excited to be like their settler ancestors, and finally CLEARLY revealing to the viewers what's been off this whole time... and the scene asks: did YOU notice the signs? Did you see what went wrong along the way, or did you only notice just now when it's explicitly shown to you? And why do you think that is?

It challenges the perspective of the viewer and tells you to reflect on why you didn't see it coming, and that is so so powerful.

The Doctor's reaction to this scene..... 👌👌👌👌

His mouth is ajar, stunned beyond belief that after all he's done and all he can offer, the offer to literally save their lives, he is reduced to someone who's nothing more than the hue of his skin. He yells at them, telling them he doesn't care what they think of him because he's still the same doctor he's always been, and to still get rejected with a dirty look... Which hits extra hard when you remember how much the Doctor loves being himself. He LOVES being the Doctor again! And he walks with such a pep in his step, celebrating his existence and sharing it with all he meets... and then he tries to save some rich white kids from certain death.

His performance in that moment was literally phenomenal. It's a narrative that's so powerful and so creative in its execution, my jaw was still on the floor throughout the credits.

This episode is definitely up there as one of my favourites sofar

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aemond x brothel reader 👀

So what if instead of Aemond visiting the older woman in yesterday’s episode - he goes to the brothel and immediately regrets it and is about to leave until he sees reader and is mesmerized by her beauty. They have their little moment and she gives him comfort. Definitely feel free to add more or change anything! This is just a thought that I’d like to see created. Thank you!

Request: Aemond and a brothel girl (maybe a dancer idk) like the scene in the episode. Except they are more intimate and not weird age gap like the madam. It gave me the ick… He truly feels for her.

Warnings: mention of (past) character death, mommy issues,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The mysterious customer under a cloak all piqued your curiosity. You never had the chance of properly seeing him, always immediately escorted to a private bed. Some girls said he was disfigured, and that it was the reason he covered himself with a cloak. Some said it was Aegon Targaryen, but you knew the newly crowned King favored Flea Bottom’s whores. 

As you danced, your eyes would try to see through the veils he hid behind. To get a glimpse of him. But you never saw anything other than his bare feet. All you knew was that he was with Madam Sylvi and that he requested hot milk.

One late evening, you saw him leaving the veils. His cloak was on, but he saw you. He saw you dancing and moving your naked body to the rhythm of the music, entertaining the customers. 

The next time he came by, he asked for you. 

Madam Sylvi was not pleased, but he was the paying customer. 

You reminded him of his mother — physically —, but more caring and nurturing. He found your voice soothing and loved to rub himself against the fullness of your breasts, making your nipples harden to the stimulation, until he came to rest his cheek on top of it, humming in satisfaction. His mother let him do this as a child, when she was still comforting him, and he missed it. 

Every night, he would curl against you, or in your lap, and stay here for hours as you gently caressed his pale skin. Unlike the other customers, Aemond was not there for sexual satisfaction. He just wanted comfort.

‘’Daemon sent them to kill me,’’ he said, his naked body shielded by the veils circling the large bed. ‘’It was my head they wanted, not my innocent little nephew’s.’’

Your heart was heavy as the prince mentioned the murder of Jaehaerys — a child. The barbarous act had everyone in tears. 

You rubbed his arm gently, the aroma of calming lavender wrapping around you. ‘’But you were with me.’’

‘’I feel sorry for my brother and sweet sister. She is traumatized.’’ Guilt filled his stomach as he remembered the suffering and painful grief in Helaena’s eyes. ‘’I should be grateful they did not find me, but a part of me wishes they had. Unlike my little nephew, I would have been able to defend myself.’’

‘’We cannot change the past, my prince.’’ 

‘’I know,’’ Aemond whispered, his cold, princely facade completely down in your company. He sighed deeply as your gentle caresses soothed his weary soul. His body relaxed as he buried his face into your covered chest, seeking solace in your warmth and tenderness. ‘’There’s a lot I would change about the past if I could. I…I do regret that business with Luke. I lost my temper that day, and I am sorry for it.’’

You stroked his hair gently, the soft, silvery locks running through your fingers. You could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away as he rested against you.

Aemond's eye closed at your touch, and a small sigh escaped his lips. ‘’They used to tease me, you know? Because I was different. One time, in the dragonpit, they…they said they found me a dragon. It was a pig. And my brother was part of the prank.’’

’'That was cruel of them,'’ you said softly, leaning to kiss his temple. He leaned into your touch as you wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace. ‘’They were cruel to you, my prince. You didn't deserve their taunts and mockery.'’ 

You felt his hand reaching up and palming your breasts through your clothing. Getting the hint of what he wanted, you untied the front of your dress and freed your breasts. Immediately, Aemond’s mouth started to press kisses over them before. His hot tongue swiped over your nipple. You let him do what he desired, knowing this was his way of finding comfort. The warmth of his hand and the wetness of his tongue sent a shiver down your spine, but you focused on his needs.

As Aemond continued his sweet assault on your breasts, you noticed his cock was getting hard against his thigh, but didn’t mention it. Madam Sylvi never touched him there...or kissed him. Only you — when he asked for it. 

The music outside the curtains changed, and he shifted, letting go of your breasts to curl up with his head on your lap instead. You continued to rub his shoulder down to his back, then along his thigh and leg. 

‘’When I claimed Vhagar, I felt powerful.’’ 

His pride and confidence had swelled to an almost unmanageable extent when he returned to Driftmark. He was excited to tell Aegon, and his mother about Vhagar. But his cousins and nephews found him first. They got into a fight over the dragon…and Lucerys Velaryon took out his eyes. 

As if you read his thoughts, your finger brushed the scar going through his eyebrow. You couldn’t imagine the pain he went through. 

‘’Was it why you went after Luke that day? Because you wanted him to be afraid of you and your superior dragon?’’ 

Aemond grew still at the mention of Lucerys, the memory of that fateful day on Storm’s End, the catalyst of the brewing war, still fresh in his mind. 

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded slowly. ‘’Yes... In a way, I suppose so.’’ 

You hummed, brushing your fingertips along his cheekbone softly. 

Aemond wished he could take you to the Keep. To his chambers. It would be nice to not have to hide under a cloak at night and risk getting seen by anyone who shouldn’t. He wished you would be there, in his bed, when he would return from small council meetings, training or even just supper, to take care of him and hold him.

But that was impossible. His mother would never allow it.  

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard@domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios@lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale@mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron  @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit

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[lemonlover1110]

Trueform!Sukuna

Warnings: Pure Fluff

*Sukuna being a total girl dad for the daughter he didn't want, that's it. That's the post.

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sukuna would’ve never been caught dead like this, but then, he had a daughter. He hates being forced to sit down while his four-year-old daughter is putting his hair into tiny pigtails. All the bows that were made for her are now in his hair, and she keeps adding more. Sukuna wants to leave, mainly because Namie keeps tugging at his hair and he knows he looks ridiculous, but he doesn’t want his princess to throw a major tantrum.

“Are you almost done?” Sukuna asks, clearly desperate to get out of the chair. Unfortunately for him, his daughter doesn’t care. She’s very focused on putting the bows in his pink hair, which obviously match very well since they have the same hair color. He doesn’t want to be mean to her, but Sukuna can’t take it anymore, “Will you hurry up?! I have other shit to do.”

He comes off meaner than expected, and Namie drops the bow in her hand as her bottom lip quivers. At the sight, his heart breaks. He’s raising a spoiled brat, he knows it, but he can’t stand watching her cry. She lets out the first cry, tears streaming down her face– Crocodile tears, but still tears.

“Daddy hates me!” She claims, and she’s about to run away, but Sukuna holds her head. What was that thing you did to comfort her? He takes a moment to think about it, and when he remembers, he picks her up and engulfs her in a hug. 

“Imagine I did this to you.” Sukuna says before giving her a clear example and tugging her head. She whines before crying even louder. That’s not what he meant to do. Sukuna kisses the top of her head a couple of times because that always works for you… It doesn’t do anything. 

He knows he looks ridiculous. Stupid bows in his head of all different colors, a slight tint on his lips and some makeup from earlier on his face, all while he holds a little human and tries to get her to calm down. He does all of this for her and he’s still not even close to being the favorite parent. 

“I love you, princess. You’re everything to me.” Sukuna tries to tell her. How could he not? She’s a mini replica of him. Except, Sukuna doesn’t cry when he doesn’t get what he wants, he takes more extreme measures.

Namie stops the tears when she hears that her dear daddy loves him. She sniffles one last time before gesturing with one of her many hands for Sukuna’s face to come closer, which he doesn’t hesitate to do. Namie smiles before kissing his cheek, which makes the father smile– A smile that quickly goes away, just in case anyone happens to walk by and see.

“I love you too, daddy.” She answers, but that’s not all. Of course it isn’t. Sukuna puts her down on the floor again and she immediately asks, “Can I put more bows in your hair?”

He’s not sure he has space for more, but he doesn’t want his daughter to start crying again. He ends up sighing before answering defeatedly, “Yes. Yes you can.”

[nicksolemnlyswears]

STAY WITH US

this oneshot can be read as a standalone.

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME (PT. 2 HELAENA'S TURN)

pairing: aegon targaryen x targaryen! reader x helaena targaryen

word count: ~2.7k

warnings: spoilers for s2e2 of HoTD, mentions of death of a child, mentions of blood, light cursing

a/n: so i lied, so sorry, my apologies, remember how i said i wanted this part to be smut? well it didn't happen. in the end it didn't seem right because these oneshots originated form a place of care and comfort [not horniness like usual]

that being said i am open to doing a series of small oneshots based on their relationship that are more spicy because regardless it lives rent free on my brain and i'd love to share the pervertedness they'd get up to. also i've never written a threesome and that seems like a good writing exercise.

hope you like this oneshot. it's really sweet and when i was thinking of what else to do with them it simply clicked. my only wish is for it to have the same comfort provoking feeling as the other two. while this little series was written as a way for me to feel better about these characters it makes me happy to know it served the same purpose for a lot of you guys. also this was my first time writing for HoTD and you're all so nice ;) THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE.

enjoy!

Without Jaehaerys by her side, his twin sister Jaehaera must adjust to being alone. Her lifelong playmate is gone, and now she ought to find her place as an only child.

The silver-haired girl restlessly jumps through different activities, searching for the one that will entertain her long enough without company. It is difficult because each time she successfully gets distracted, she turns to catch her brother's attention, only to find he's no longer there.

Queen Helaena watches her as she stitches together a new embroidery piece for a dress. The Queen spent her days with both her children, but now that one of them is gone, she spends nearly every waking moment with her daughter. Observing. Protecting. Alert.

"The three-headed dragon shall rise once more," Helaena mumbles under her breath. The maids ignore her mumblings. The Queen's words don't make sense half the time.

A squeal of delight from her daughter prompts the needle to pierce Helaena's finger and a bead of blood forms at the pad of it. Looking up, she finds you picking up Jaehaera and kissing her chubby cheeks. The girl is enamored by her cousin and the attention you provide.

"Good morrow, 'Laena," you brightly greet her, setting down Jaehaera and sitting by her on the floor. "Have you broken fast yet?"

Helaena places a hand in yours as a greeting and nods kindly, assuring you she's been eating all her meals. At times, her appetite turns into nausea as glimpses of her dead son invade her senses, but she tries fighting through it.

She closes her eyes and thinks of anything else—primarily you. You who distract her and treat her with such care without judgment of her eccentricities. It's odd how she's caught herself multiple times seeking your approval.

As Helaena returns to her stitching, Jaehaera bounces over and falls into your arms. "I wish for my hair to be like yours."

"Allow me, Princess," Jaehaera's nursemaid intervenes. She does not wish to be seen as lazy and incapable of her job to care for the children.

The small Princess holds tightly onto you, hiding her face on your chest as she settles on your lap. "No, I want my cousin to do it. She's a Princess, and I want Princess's hair."

You giggle at her words and gesture to the nursemaid that it's alright. "Come on, sweet girl, sit," you coo, positioning her in front of you.

One of the maids hands you a hairbrush, and you begin your work. As a Princess, your hair is mostly styled by your maids, but every lady should know how to style it appropriately.

"You're such a pretty girl, Jaehaera. Did you know that?" You talk to distract her from squirming too much. She's an impatient little thing, like her father.

Jaehaera giggles sound throughout the room. She hasn't laughed like that since her brother died. It brings a sad smile to Helaena's lips.

"You're prettier," Jaehaera whispers bashfully, her cheeks a healthy hue of pink.

"Oh, I don't know about that. You're much more beautiful. Do you know why?"

Jaehaera shakes her head, causing you to hold tightly onto the intricate plaits you're weaving in her hair. You inadvertently smile at her benightedness.

"Because you look just like your mummy, and she's very beautiful, and she's a Queen," you gasp lightly, creating a tone of excitement in your voice.

Although she's kept her nose down while stitching, Helaena's cheeks burn just as brightly as her daughters. Your words continue to flatter her. You have a way with words that can make even the most ordinary of townsfolk feel special.

With a small, excited gasp, Jaehaera asks, "Will I be Queen one day?"

"There's always a possibility," you hum, pining the remaining plait into her hair. It is hard to explain the complexities of succession and legacy to a child when there is a current war debating that same subject. "All done, go over to the mirror."

"She adores you," Helaena sighs as she watches her daughter fawn over her new hairstyle.

"And I, her. She's the sweetest girl ever."

Helaena turns to look at you and sees the soft smile gracing your lips. Your eyes then catch hers, and your smile broadens. It makes her wonder what her life would be like if you were not around. How would she have dealt with her emotions?

"I must go, but can you come to my bedchambers tonight? There is a matter I must discuss with you," Helaena says timidly, casting aside her embroidery.

"As you wish, my Queen." You can't fault her for preferring to speak in the depth of the night when the castle sleeps, and there are no wandering eyes to pass judgment.

It gives Helaena whiplash when you effortlessly switch from calling her name to calling her 'my Queen.' She rather enjoys both terms, especially when you call her yours.

Helaena bids you farewell with a kiss on the cheek, blissfully unaware of its effect on you. Such displays of affection are not rare in court, but lately, their significance has changed for you, as Helaena has never been one to indulge in court etiquette when it involves physical touch.

When the sun has disappeared over the horizon, and the castle has quieted down, you make your way to the Queen's bed chambers.

You have always been inclined to stay in the shadows, where it's safe. You are a sheep amongst a den of wolves, and if you draw too much attention to yourself, danger will follow.

You have failed so far, considering you enjoy the company of the King and Queen. Grief unexpectedly brought you together and made your bond steadfast, but wherever Aegon and Helaena go, watchful gazes follow, thus making you part of the spectacle as well.

Otto and Alicent Hightower are taking the reins of this unnecessary war, but you feel safe under Aegon's and Helaena's careful watch. You believe they will protect you from any danger coming from within the castle walls, at the very least.

You're doing your mother a great disservice as you strengthen the bond of the King and Queen. The ache of losing a child will forever remain in their hearts, and waves of pain continue to crash, but that thick fog of grief that was cast upon them has slowly started to lift, thanks to you.

Pushing open the door to Helaena's bedchambers, you step into the room. It's well into the night, and the candlelight illuminates the room. You stumble over your steps when you notice Aegon and Helaena standing close together as if they were about to kiss.

"My apologies, your graces. I believed the Queen to be alone," you bow your head, red painting your cheeks. It's a gesture that originates from embarrassment rather than submissiveness.

"Do not apologize. We wished to speak to you," Aegon speaks, beckoning you deeper into the room.

He offers you a goblet of wine, which you accept gracefully to alleviate the dizzying wave of nerves you're feeling. You've never been alone with Aegon and Helaena. People have always been around, and up to a fortnight ago, they barely spoke to one another.

The ruling couple sought your counsel regarding their marriage, recognizing you as an intermediary. You offered your advice to the best of your abilities, considering you have yet to marry.

With time and encouragement, they reached out to each other for comfort. Piece by piece, they were able to speak and share the emotions that troubled them. Nonetheless, they kept you closer than ever.

You're the calm amidst the storm.

You take a drink of the sweet wine to busy yourself. Helaena and Aegon stand side by side, his hand on the small of her back as Helaena plays with her fingers. They're backlit by the fire burning by the fireplace. It casts a warm glow over their figures, making the situation seem much more intimate. You're certainly intruding.

"We wish to thank you for everything you've done for us recently," Helaena breaks the creeping silence. She's just as nervous as you are, if not more.

"Helaena and I have been thinking about how to repay you for your generosity," Aegon continues, staring intently back at you to gauge your reaction to his words. He's afraid of reading you wrong and fucking things up—like he usually does.

You instantly shake your head, "As I said before, there is no need-"

Helaena's following words cause silence to befall as you stare back at them in surprise. A sort of surprise they cannot read. "We wish to wed you," Helaena blurts nervously, her fingers twisting together.

This is not a moment to speak in riddles. Helaena is fully aware of the situation before her and wishes nothing more than for you to stay by their side, no matter the cost.

For once in her life, she hasn't felt lonely in the castle. She has an ally she can trust and confide in.

You've been the subject of Aegon and Helaena's conversations for numerous nights. At first, it was difficult to understand that they both held deep affection towards you while caring for each other. They debated for a long time about what to do about it and they agreed on one thing wholeheartedly—you only deserved the best.

Then, it came to Aegon.

He's named after Aegon' The Conqueror' Targaryen. The King took over the seven kingdoms with his sister wives by his side.

A simple Valyrian tradition would solve their dilemma while strengthening his claim to the throne. It's poetic, a part of history being re-enacted.

"Pardon?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. You stare back at them with wide eyes as they jump from Aegon to Helaena and back to Aegon.

The goblet in your hand lightly shakes along with your hand. You place it on a nearby table, afraid of spilling it. Surely, you misheard.

"Our affection grows greater day by day. More than we ever thought possible," Helaena confesses, desperately reaching for your hand.

Your gaze falls on Aegon to seek his opinion, and he nods in agreement. There is not much to say. You have proved yourself valuable to them in a way that is much too important. You serve to keep them sane and emotionally stable. A feat no one has cared to accomplish before.

You do not use Aegon as a puppet or manipulate him to achieve sinister goals on behalf of his name, much like the rest of the court does. Those people only care for power, even if they break Aegon piece by piece. They destroy him while you take the time to pick up the pieces and put him back together.

"Such drastic actions must not be taken. I merely offered you comfort when you needed it because I care for you both," you stutter, pressing a hand to your forehead. All of a sudden, the room is warm, and a layer of perspiration forms on the back of your neck.

Aegon grunts and approaches you, cupping your face in his palms, "That is precisely why we wish to do this. You have cared for us like no one has before, including ourselves. You planted yourself in our souls, and now we cannot let you go lest we go insane. If you do not feel the same, say it, but do not lie to us."

His tone is firm, yet he cannot disguise the pleading behind it. He's never wanted something as much as he wants you.

"I-" Your palms ghost over the top of his.

It is all too much. The prospect of being wed looms over your head like a threat. Otto Hightower will have no qualms about using your lack of a husband as a war strategy. It should not be his decision in the first place, but it is out of your hands as you're considered a prisoner to him.

You would be a liar if you said you did not reciprocate their feelings. They've been present for a while now, it is why comforting them comes so easily to you. Seeing them hurt only pains you.

With this new opportunity, you will no longer be used. You will not be sold to some old lord in the countryside for the gain of a few hundred men. You would be protected.

Most importantly, you will marry a man and a woman who love you. Yes, they are broken, but with you by their side, they will thrive and rise to the occasion.

Aegon's lilac eyes beg you to accept their proposal. "I feel emotions I thought impossible. They are confusing and overwhelming, but they are real," you admit.

Relief floods over Aegon, and he can't help but release a sigh of relief. He presses his forehead against yours, whispering a silent thank you to the old gods and the new.

"Will you become our wife? Our lifelong companion?" Helaena asks, coming up behind you. You feel her breath on your neck as she leans her head on your shoulder.

One word is enough to respond. One simple word will change your life. For good or bad is to be determined.

"Yes," you breathe, reaching for her hand. The smile on Aegon's lips and Helaena's giggles in your ear make it all worth it.

Aegon needed to do things right so no one could argue against your union. He contacted the Septon himself, and only a day later, after his proposal, the Valyrian ceremony took place.

He clearly instructed his guard and the Septon that they must not tell anyone, or there would be consequences.

The ceremony is quick and private amongst the gardens of the Red Keep. You wear the traditional red and gold robes and headpieces that match Aegon's.

A red dragon decorates the front of your garb, matching Helaena's golden one on her dress. She stands to the side with a faint smile, Jaehaera clinging to her dress.

Aegon carefully cuts your lip with the dragon glass. As blood surges to the surface, he presses his thumb to the cut and later spreads it across your skin. You repeat the same on his lips, staring apologetically back at him, yet the burning pain does not compare to the pain he's felt before. It's almost pleasurable as he takes in the symbolism of the gesture.

Cutting your palms, you let the blood that will bind you together for eternity fall onto the goblet. You lock eyes with Aegon as you take a drink from it, passing it to him a moment later.

He was not raised surrounded by Targaryen customs, but he has a new deep appreciation for them. The ceremony is deeply intimate as they share the blood that will mark them as one.

With a couple of final words, the Septon concludes the ceremony and with the knowledge that you are entirely theirs, Aegon crashes his lips against yours.

Aegon stayed firm in his words. He did not wish to sully your name, so he waited until the moment was right. The reward is much too sweet.

It is the first time you've shared a kiss with Aegon, and it is unlike anything you've felt before. In the past, you've snuck kisses in dark corners of the Red Keep, but none have ever kissed you with the intensity Aegon has to offer.

Helaena approaches your tangled embrace, and as you resurface for a breath, she presses her much more delicate lips on yours. The kiss is so different yet the same simultaneously. The intent behind it is identical while the pace is slower and sultrier.

Yours and Aegon’s blood coats her lips and it’s as if she also partook on the ceremony. Your heart beats intensely inside your chest but you’re happy.

Finally, you three are bonded, destined to stay together for eternity.

Jaehaerys will forever be missed. His life has become a mystery; Aegon and Helaena will never see it fulfilled. But in this tragedy, the gods were kind to Aegon and Helaena and provided a new person to love, cherish, and join their family.

were you expecting a good old throuple situation? eh, eh (pretend i'm wiggling my eyebrows and nudging your side with my elbow). im just saying she's perfect for their little dysfunctional family and the drama it will create with the Hightowers and Targaryens? immaculate.

if you enjoyed this oneshot please don’t forget to like or comment (i accept keyboard smashes, emojis, words of encouragement, praise, virtual hugs and gushing about hel and aegon) and if you want more of it feel free to let me know!

[erwinsvow]

little sad bitchy!reader moment: her and rafe are at the country club with topper and kelce and some other friends of rafe and one of the guys starts saying how she would be a horrible wife and mother (bc of the way she is) and she honestly is so hurt by it and i think she would almost try to change the way she is around rafe a little just so he wouldn’t think that about her…

sobbing thinking about it and listening to this (https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLX2Pdcv/)

hi my love this was so amazing and wonderful to write! im sorry its kinda long, hope you like it ♡

in all honestly, you stopped caring what people said about you a long time ago. you weren't the way you were because it was funny, or to get a reaction out of others. that was just the way you've always been, and there was nothing you hated more than letting people walk all over you and get away it.

that must be why the comebacks would fly out of your mouth before you could stop them, if you even wanted to stop them. why you never stopped to think twice about the people who didn't want to talk to you again or the boys who didn't want a second date.

you weren't easy to handle, not that you wanted to be, but you knew you weren't.

it seemed easy enough for rafe though.

he never seemed to wish that you'd bite your tongue or tell you to act differently, behave a certain way. no, he'd laugh and fire back something, or agree with you and say something you remember to add to your collection of insults.

rafe liked you as you were. that's why he fought so long and hard to get you, something that you didn't take lightly. you were committed, and the more days that went by, you found yourself softening up more and more with him.

rafe knew a side of you that a select few had ever seen, much less engaged with. you liked it this way, having a boyfriend you could be yourself around and be a little soft around.

until you overhear a boy at the club talking about you. in all your years of life, you've never let a boy make you feel upset, and you didn't want to start now. a comeback brews the second he mentions your name—of course it's the idiot one, the one whose parents pay for his grades and doesn't know anything besides losing at pong and scaring away girls—but it dies in your throat when you hear the words that follow.

"i mean i get it, she's hot, but i don't know how cameron puts up with her."

"what're you talking about? she's just like him," kelce says, and you feel briefly grateful for him.

"dude, she's a bitch. i've never heard one nice thing come out of her mouth. totally untamed. you can't bring a girl like that home to your folks, they'd hate her. especially his folks. and don't even mention long-term. imagine coming home after working all day and your girl is bitching at you? i mean, no offense but what kind of kids is she gonna raise?"

you hear laughter, and when your face feels wet, and you're confused for a moment. you look up at the ceiling, wondering if there's a leak, when your eyes flood again and more tears fall down.

crying, and that too over what one of rafe's friends said about you. this isn't like you. frankly, it's pathetic. those idiotic boys don't know the first thing about you or your relationship with rafe—they don't know the conversations you have and all the things you both agree on and the way he laughs when you fire back at him.

but somehow, feet leading you outside and to your car, fingers texting rafe some excuse for why you went home early, you end up letting it affect you.

rafe comes over the next morning���he texted you something but you didn't reply. worried for a moment about something you've never been concerned with before, you think a nicer girl would have texted him back right away, that you should have texted him back.

he doesn't knock, never does. your parents aren't home but he has your spare key, letting himself in and up to your room. he stops at the doorway, leaning against the frame.

"hey. what happened last night?" he asks it like he doesn't know what happened—which is good, you want it to stay that way. the thing you would have said yesterday bubbles up, coming to your lips. maybe if you'd gotten your head out of your ass, you'd see my text.

"wasn't feeling good. came home."

"you feelin' okay now?" he gets closer to you, and you look up at your boyfriend. i'd be fine but that asshole you already hate ruined my mood. will you run him over in your truck?

"better." you stop for a moment, you don't want him to think something's wrong. "how was your night?" he looks at you a little confused.

"it was fine. borin' without you. kelce asked where you went too."

"y'know i always liked kelce," you say, smiling again. you think you can get better at this.

rafe takes you out for lunch, and then you wanted to go shopping in the afternoon and get your nails done. it's a whole day, and you like spending it with him. you swallow down what your mind usually thinks and opt for being nice instead, polite questions and trepid commentary.

the waiter brings you the wrong drink—and though you're not so much of a bitch to hurl insults at teenager servers, you're normally annoyed enough to say something and get your correct drink. instead you sip it quietly, waiting for rafe to start the conversation. when you don't, he looks at you in that confused way again.

"you okay?"

"yeah. fine. you okay?"

if he thinks something's wrong, he doesn't say anything. at the mall, nothing looks how you want and even the things you like don't feel right. you'd let rafe buy you whatever you want, normally giving him a twirl in the dressing room and thanking him very sweetly.

"you want that dress?" rafe asks, his arm resting on a rack while you comb through mindlessly.

"no, it was too short."

"that's never been an issue before." ha-ha. pervert. looking up my skirt aren't you? knew you were desperately horny for me but this is down bad even for you.

"trying to dress better. and it'll be cold soon."

"hey, look at me." rafe uses his hands on your shoulders to turn you from the clothes, facing him. "you okay baby?"

fuck, you know you messed up. he only calls you that when he's being serious—the rest of the time it's princess, angel, sweetheart. all things that you are definitely not.

"i'm okay. i just don't want it. but thank you." you don't know it, but he thinks you're upset with him, spending the next hour in the nail salon racking his mind for the reason why.

your nails are fine, they look pretty enough. shorter than normal with a clean french manicure, you admire them from a distance. you suddenly feel like crying again, wondering why you didn't get the pink acrylics you like, rhinestones and bows and all the other things that were pretty to look at when you flipped people off.

in rafe's passenger seat after, you keep staring at your hands, feeling another tear slip down. rafe's not looking at you, he's looking ahead, still unsure what was going on.

"baby, if i did something you gotta tell me, i don't like seein' you like this-" when he turns his head to glance at you, you're looking back at him with your pouty face and wet cheeks—two things he's never seen before. "hey. what's wrong?"

you couldn't stop the downpour if you tried—tears falling quick and fast. you hate that anyone's seeing you like this, especially rafe.

rafe is nice to you, and you soften up around him. you didn't really realize that he softens up around you too. he wipes your tears away, keeps a hand on yours the whole time.

"can you talk to me? what's goin' on?"

"yesterday.. one of those guys said that i was a bitch-"

"which one? to your face? when? i'll fuckin' kill him-"

"no, he didn't know i was there. it's not that, i know i am. i don't care about that. he said that-" your voice cracks, something else you hate, that you don't want rafe hearing. "sorry. he said you couldn't bring me home. and that you would hate coming home to me-me being all mean. and that our kids would be mean too."

yes, you're mean. but rafe's mean too, and none of your friends have ever said anything like that about him. you like that he's mean, that he's like you—you think he's the closest thing to a soulmate you could ever find.

"don't fuckin' listen to any of them for a second, got it? they don't know anything."

"rafe, i-"

"no, seriously. they yap because i wasn't there to knock him out. and he says it when you're gone 'cause he knows you'd make him cry if you were there." you sniffle, though you already feel better.

"but i didn't. i started crying instead." you hate even thinking about it.

"s'okay, it happens. but don't believe a word of that shit. i wanna come home to you everyday. hear everything you say. i want all of it."

"really?" you ask him, wiping away your tears, appreciating the hand on your thigh and how sincerely he's looking at you. "i thought you'd be mean if i cried in front of you."

"it's hard enough to be mean to you."

"you're such a sap. should we go get ice cream and braid each others hair after this?" he laughs, and you laugh. "thanks rafey."

"no problem, kid."

"don't call me that." rafe groans, and you smile.

[cute-sucker]

smile for the camera

˚❀༉‧₊˚

rafe called you his prized trophy, and you didn't mind it. you trotted in your tight skirts, black card and tiny heels. it was a ritual, something calming. you needed a label, something to stand by.

something that branded you to be his. but you didn't mind his demands, sometimes you were sweet about it. sometimes you let things go wild, but you knew he would take care of you. that was the important thing. that was what you needed most of all/  

there was something about him that made you feel protected. and he liked that you let him do that. you fueled his male insecurities of having to be a strong, strong man, because of how desperately you needed someone like that.

you used to be a pageant queen, a girl who had gems stuck to her forehead, makeup drowning her face, teeth bleached white, and the constant need to be loved. one of your vivid memories was getting dragged to get your hair done, your mother screeching about how needy you were. the whole appointment you cried your eyes out, arms flailing out, whispering questions.

"do you love me mommy?"

and she would pull you up, her lipstick clashing againts her leopard orange jumpsuit. you could already hear the insult, and braced yourself.

"would someone love their cash cow?" then she paused watching your expression. you were five. you didn't know what that meant, but you could feel yourself being inspected like an insect, and then finally when you cowered your gaze to the floor, she hummed with contempt.

"no. now, shut up" then her harsh hand would graze against your chin to fix your hair. you whimpered, hands aching to take out your outfit. the rest of the memory was too painful to remember.

but those days were gone. rafe had caught your eye the first time you worked at the country club. you lacked the vanity or the items that would attract someone who had money, but there was something about your smile.

you were dazzling no matter what, and that was when rafe had seen you. you had gone to the bathroom before to serve him, and came back with pink glossy lips and doe eyes that showed him that you were innocent. you needed protection. you needed someone to give you the firm hand, and then kiss you with forgiveness.  

so there it was. within weeks he would only call you to serve him, and you would do so quickly, the same smile plastered on your face, and finally as if he was pissed he pulled you down. your mom had always told you that the one thing she liked about you was your winning smile. but, something was wrong.

"nah, i don't like that."

you snapped to look at him, your fake smile wavering for a moment, "what's the problem, mr. cameron?"

sometimes that would earn a chuckle out of him, and you could tell the way he was sitting that he liked it but - but there was something wrong, and suddenly he was pulling you down to sit with him. you felt shocked seeing him so close. you could smell his breath, and you felt your heart drum faster.

"get that-" he pointed to your face, "-fucking fake smile outta here. if you wanna make me happy? give me a real smile."

and that was it, and then he grunted almost pushing you up. you sniffled, and then got up, hands reaching to fix your skirt and then hurried out to the backdoor. no one called back for you, and it was almost as if his words echoed all the way home as you caught the bus.

you spent hours crying over that moment. as you got home you rushed to the bathroom. your disgusting apartment smellt of cockroaches, and burnt food, and you sat there in your sink. you smiled. stopped. smiled. stopped. smiled. it hurt the way the cracks of your smile etched into your mouth.

what was wrong with it?

for god sakes what was he talking about?

x

those days were now long gone. no longer did you wait tables, or go back to your crappy apartment that made you feel gross. instead you slept in a warm bed in tanyhill waking up to rafe's firm hands on your body. you snuggled closer to him, placing your hands on his chest.

"hey?" he murmered, head buried in the fluff of his pillow. you giggled at his strange expression, and he quickly stuck his head out, eyes squinted, "what's wrong?"

you sighed, "nothing rafey. i-"

he looked at you again, a pointed look on his face, "spit it out."

you bit your lip, your voice a whisper when you asked your question. you had always been told to never ask questions unless you wanted the backhand, but rafe waited patiently.

"um," you sputtered out, "um, you remember that day when you came into the country club and i was serving-"

he hummed appreciatively, "yeah you were so hot, goddamn-"

at this you giggled again, before placing your hand on his mouth, "gotta shut up for a second-" and then you bit your lip before tilting your head, "remember that day when you told me to stop smiling, or something like you didn't like my smile?"

rafe seemed to furrow his eyebrows, "no, baby, i don't really remember that," he muttered out, and you felt your heart prick.

your eyes watered the way they always did, as your throat clogged up, "i was wondering what you meant by that?"

he sighed finally, looking at you. you looked so small in your pink nightgown, lip stuck out as you seemed to clench your fists to the sides of your body. you watched him carefully, hoping that something - some emotions would show on his face.

he sighed again, before reaching out for you, "baby, come here. you seem so far away," he said soflty, pulling you closer until you were in his lap. he held you close, his words humming a sweet vibration through your body. you felt safe, you felt at home.

you felt your breathing calm, as you listened to his steady beat. his hand moved up and down your back.

"listen," he began, his voice a low rumble, "when I said that, i didn't mean I didn't like your smile. i just meant i wanted to see the real you. not some fake, plastered-on smile you thought i wanted to see."

you sniffled, tears brimming in your eyes, but you felt a small flicker of relief. "but why didn't you just say that?" you whimpered, your voice small and vulnerable.

he tilted your chin up, making you look into his eyes. "i was a dickhead, and you seemed like a sweet girl. i wanted to know you as that sweet girl"

you blinked, a tear slipping down your cheek. he make a soft sound of protest as he wiped the tear away with his coarse thumb, touch tender

"you mean that?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. you felt shy now, folding into your self, as rafe smiled against your skin.

"of course, i mean it," he replied firmly. "y'think i'd lie about something like that?"

finally he pulled you up to give you a firm kiss, "my princess."

you buried your face in his chest, letting his words sink in. the weight of the past seemed to lift, if only a little, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. "thank you, rafe," you murmured against his skin.

he held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "no need to thank me, baby."

for the first time in a long time, you felt a genuine smile tug at your lips.

[reiderwriter]

So obviously Spencer is iconic for his wide range of haircuts over the show, and I have this vision of a Spencer x hairdresser fic where he goes to the same hairdresser all the time because he likes the routine and it’s what he’s used to. So like they’re low-key friends bc he’s been her client so long, but then she notices he can’t come as usual and he tells her it’s because he’s always away or working late. So because they’re close she gives him private late appointments after she closes bc they’re more accessible for him, and then they’re always together late at night, and eventually they fall for each other!! And like she loves his curls and cringed when he wanted it cut short but loves it regardless AHH I JUST LOVE IT. Bonus points if Spencer gets to recommend his hairdresser girlfriend to his teammates just to brag about the fact he has a hot girlfriend lmao. I get it’s kinda long lol, if it’s too long a premise then no worries, just sharing it is nice :)

A/N: Hi! I love the idea of hair stylist reader, so I had a lot of fun writing this~♡ Thank you for your request, I hope you enjoy it!

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: implied Autistic Reid, brief mentions of sensory issues, writer does not care for the shows Canon hair continuity and does basically whatever she wants.

Masterlist

The first time you'd met Spencer Reid, you hadn't been able to cut his hair. Which was a damn shame because it really did need cutting. 

Sweeping up the floors of the hair salon you worked at, you had noticed the man lingering outside, wringing his hands together and pushing them awkwardly through his hair, approaching and retreating every few seconds. 

You watched him through the mirrors, and let him dance around like that for five minutes before deciding that the evening breeze would be a boon during the hot summer night that was about to set in on you. 

Opening the salon door, you stepped outside and soaked in the fresh air before turning to the now frozen, slightly awkward man. 

“Can I help you?” You tried to put a welcoming smile on your face, but the salon was past closing and empty beside you. You should've been heading home by now, but something in the man's posture had you dawdling.

“The barber shop down the road closed down,” he said quickly, as if the words were practised on his to guess moments before. 

“Yes, that's true. It's been six months now.”

“Six months?” he squeaked out, running a hand through his hair as he turned inwards. 

“Do you… need a haircut?” 

“Yes. Yes, are there any other barber shops in the area?” 

You rolled your eyes and walked back into the salon, picking up a robe and a shoulder cover and spinning around the closest chair to welcome him. 

“Well, are you coming in?” 

“But you're closed. Your sign says you're closed.” 

“And I'm still here, aren't I?” 

He didn't argue any further and hesitantly stepped into the salon. 

You helped him out of his bag and put it away before helping him into the robe and shoulder pad. 

He awkwardly stood around as you prepared your scissors and station again, switching on the mirror light so you could fully see his face and hair. 

And damn was he attractive. As you smoothed his hair out of his face, you were met with warm brown eyes, open and anxious, like a deer caught in headlights. Or, more accurately, a dear caught in a hair salon. 

You had to blink and look away as you remembered what you were about, standing up and leading him over to the sink. 

“I'm… I'm a little bit sensitive about my hair,” he admitted quite meekly as you tested the temperature of the water. 

“Okay. Is there anything specific?” 

He sat himself in the chair but didn't lower his head to the bowl, so you waited. 

After a minute or two, he gently lowered his head to the bowl, and you helped his progress, making sure he was comfortably settled. He didn't speak, just let his shoulders relax and closed his eyes as you turned the water on his locks. 

You enjoyed the simple repetitions of your job. Everyone's hair was different, that was true, but there were really only so many ways to wash hair. 

You rinsed his hair thoroughly, keeping the water away from his face and ears with a face guard before beginning to lather it up. 

For a man who hadn't seen the inside of a salon in six months and likely a hairbrush in the same length of time, his hair was healthy. 

De-tangling as you went, you ran your hands through the lengths of his hair, taking note of how it fell, which parts were healthy, and which had developed split ends. Then you began massaging his head, working the shampoo into his roots, making sure his scalp was free from any possible dirt or dry skin. 

This was the best part of the haircut for you, and you knew your regular clients enjoyed it greatly as well. Which is why you probably shouldn't have been too surprised when the man fell asleep. 

It took you a few minutes to realize that was what happened, the face guard obscuring his face from your vision. When you squeezed the water from his hair, patted it dry, and twisted it into a towel so the water wouldn't run down his back, you had no clue that he was away with the fairies. 

It wasn't until you asked him to stand, and he didn't even move that you moved around the sink and lifted the face guard. 

If he seemed anxious awake, it had melted away now. He looked younger asleep, more calm and confident somehow. His eyelashes were long, a fact you only noticed when you leaned in to get a better look at him. 

It was your hand unconsciously tracing a hand along his jaw that woke him back up, and for a second, you just stared at each other, faces inches apart. 

“I'm.. I'm so sorry, I should go. Thank you for… I should go,” he said hurriedly, pulling the robes and towels off and snatching his bag up, running out the door. 

“Wait, your hair,” you called after him, but he was gone. 

And he hadn't paid. 

It took a week for you to collect the payment, though you couldn't care less about the money anyway. 

But a week thinking about the man's delicate features, his shy smile and stutter, and you were very distracted. 

Thinking about him had become your full-time job, as much as cutting hair had, and you'd had a few close encounters with the scissors when you were lost in thought. 

You'd been thinking up back stories for the man ranging from the romantic to the obscure to the downright realistic. So, a week later, you found yourself behind on work and needing to stay late, just as he stepped into the shop a second time. 

“Hello?” You shouted from the backroom, hearing the doorbell jingle as it opened. “We're actually closed right now, so- oh.” 

He stood awkwardly in the door, his face already flushed slightly. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi,” you said, trying to stop the grin spreading across your face. You didn't want to scare him off a second time. 

“Last time, I… kinda ran away. I was… I'm not the best with-” 

“With haircuts?” 

“With change.” You both nodded at that, awkwardly staring at each other. 

“So…?” You lead, trying to encourage him to introduce himself, hoping he would reveal something you didn't already know. 

“You're closed again, but could you cut my hair?” He asked, pushing the long locks back on his head as he stood a little taller. 

“It would be my pleasure…” you trailed off as a question, needing to know his name. 

“Spencer. Spencer Reid. Doctor… just Spencer is fine if you'd prefer.” 

“I'm Y/N. Come and take a seat.” 

You slid him into the robes once again and got through a hair wash without any accidental naps this time. Though you did notice that he seemed to be enjoying it just as much. 

His sighs left you feeling hot, your heart beating as you focused on his hair to draw your gaze from his lips. 

When he was back I'm front of the mirror, he again looked like a scared cat that had been backed into the corner. 

“So, what'll it be, Spencer?” You asked cheerily, combing your hand through his locks to detangle them. 

“Hmm? Oh, a water would be nice.” 

“For your hair, Spencer. What haircut do you want?” 

“Oh! Oh, um, just a…just a haircut.” 

Your face scrunched up in confusion as he doubled down. 

“But what kind of haircut?” 

“What kind?” 

You pulled away from his chair for a minute and went to grab a cut reference book. 

“Okay, so we've got undercuts, or trims, I can do pompadour or bowl cut or-” 

You looked at Spencer's face again and saw that he looked more than confused. 

“How about I just cut your hair and after you tell me if you like it or not?” 

He nodded and gave you a weak smile as you grabbed your scissors. 

Twenty minutes of silence later, and you felt Spencer exhale in relief as you dusted off the back of his neck and pulled the robes off of his clothes. 

You'd gone for a shorter cut, but his curly hair had such a nice natural texture that you left it a bit longer on top. Without his hair in his face, his jawline was sharper, his eyes brighter, and you were somehow more infatuated. 

He stood up shyly and you smiled at how good he looked. 

“Okay, perfect! Let me just-” You lifted your hand and smoothed out some of his hair, picking up some strands and pushing them back and forth until it was just right. 

He caught your hand just as you were about to pull away, and you suddenly realized how close he was. Or more accurately how close you had gotten. It was like you were breathing the same air. 

“D-Do you like it?” You asked, voice small and high as it battled your heartbeat to be heard. 

“Yeah. I like it. It looks… it looks like a haircut.” 

You giggled as his grip became gentler, and your hand fell down to your side, brushing his chest gently as it descended. 

“How much do I owe you?” He asked, and you led him over to the register to complete the payment. 

“Thank you,” he said as he grabbed his bags to head out the door. 

“Just doing my job. I'll see you in six weeks,” you said, waving him off. 

“What for?” He asked, voice confused but bright. He sounded almost hopeful. 

“For your next haircut, Spencer.” 

He smiled and waved back as he walked back into the dark and disappeared down the street. 

No one could ever accuse Spencer Reid of being forgetful, and six weeks later, he was back in your chair. 

Except he didn't arrive at 11pm this time, but instead 11am. 

The other customers and stylists gawked at the man as he walked in, and you thanked the gods that your seat was free as he met your eyes. 

“Hi.” 

“Spencer! You're back.” 

He nodded shyly, head hanging a little as he ignored the many looks from the women in the room and the eruption of whispers and loud glances in his direction. 

“It's been six weeks. You said that's when I'd need another haircut.” 

You laughed a little as you pulled the robe around him. 

“You know, I say that every time, but most people ignore me. I love a man who can follow directions.” 

The eruption of red on his cheeks left you feeling suddenly tongue tied, and you carefully redirected the conversation back to the task at hand. 

“Same again, Doc?” You asked, readying your spray bottle and supplies. 

“Actually, could we, ah, go shorter this time?” Hesmiled sheepishly and watched as you ran your fingers through his tangled hair. 

“My boss, last time, said I looked like I joined a boyband, so…” 

“Your boss at the hospital?” You asked, clinging to every detail you could get from him. 

“The hospital?” 

“You said you were a Doctor, do you work in a lab instead or-”

“Oh. No, I work at the FBI. I'm not a medical doctor, I have a PhD. I have three, Chemistry, Engineering, and Mathematics.” 

You whistled. “Impressive. You can't be older than 30.” 

“I'm 29.” He said, smiling at you in the mirror, and you smiled back, hands still running through his hair. 

“So, no boy band haircuts, okay. For what it's worth, though, you look totally hot.” 

The words cut the conversation short, and you tried your best to take the words back as you went off to the sides to grab your sheers. 

Half an hour later, and you could swear that half the salon had given up pretending to be doing their jobs and were just awkwardly ogling the man. If the shorter “boyband” hair was good, the undercut you'd done for him was even better. 

You turned him around to get a closer look, using the excuse of making sure his hair was symmetrical enough to stare at him some more as you got closer to finishing. 

“Okay,” you said with a sad sigh. “You're all finished, Spencer. Let's get you rung up.” 

He nodded and followed you quickly, pulling out his wallet as he paid quietly. 

“Okay. And I'll see you tomorrow,” you said, as he picked up his bags to leave. 

“Tomorrow? I thought you said it was six weeks between haircuts.” 

“It is. But it's also my day off tomorrow, so I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner. With me.” 

He blinked at you once. Then twice, and another time before smiling and looking away. 

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” 

He ran a hand through his hair and nearly walked into the door he was trying to walk through, but your heart still fluttered as you waved him out.