#HE’S A PRETTY MAN I JUST WISH HIS FACE WAS EASIER TO DRAW

[teenagemutantninjatrauma]

Yeah I’m sure this is what normal people spend their time doing. Anyways have his stupid face <3

[shomatoriashi]

10/07/24; 05:40pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you watch them fall in love with someone else ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

notes and warnings: unedited; non!mc reader; unrequited love; angst, no comfort. do not ask for a part 2. mc names for each story ( lorelai, ashley, teresa, melody )

thank you @/nyashykyunnie for providing the banners for this story ♡

{ she's got you mesmerized, while i die | why would you ever kiss me? | i'm not even half as pretty | you gave her your sweater, it's just polyester | but you like her better... i wish i was heather. }

to sylus, you were simply someone he hired to help with making his life easier. his relationship with you was nothing short of a mere business deal, with your mere existence seeming to be a means to an end.

yet foolishly enough, you had fallen for this cocky bastard, knowing you would do anything to please him-

anything to make him happy.

you couldn't count the instances where you sacrificed your own dignity for the sake of furthering his agenda alone. from sleeping with his enemies to obtain their secrets, to risking your life backing him up in various situations that more often than not, ended up in a gunfight-

you truly didn't understand why you would put your body and heart through such torture, simply to receive a mere nod of approval in response. it was during times like these, when you're so busy nursing your wounds, that you wondered why your traitorous heart beat so strongly for him, despite knowing how he didn't reciprocate your feelings.

in order to feel better about this whole situation, you managed to convince yourself that sylus was a busy man. that he didn't have time to feel such trivial emotions like love; that he treated you well enough, and as long as you could forever remain by his side, then you had no complaints.

you were a fool, purposely living in this tiny sandbox, convincing yourself that you could survive on mere scraps alone when it came to sylus.

yet that all changed when a certain hunter crash landed into his life, changing not only the course of his life-

but yours as well.

you had simply tagged along, being sylus's all too willing shadow when the young woman foolishly stepped into the n109 zone with an agenda of her own. as sylus takes her back to the warehouse, you could detect the fear and anxiety in her voice even when she willingly went against sylus.

and it was with those eyes, so filled with conviction, that you could see the way the walls around sylus's heart was beginning to crumble. he makes a few snide remarks to the woman, yet you could hear the amusement in his voice when he steps closer to her, pressing his hand over hers that felt much too sensual for your eyes.

envy was felt choking you, and you had to turn away from the scene. ice was felt coursing through your very veins at the sight, and you bit down against your bottom lip with such intensity that you swore that you were close to drawing blood.

thoughts pertaining to your denial kept repeating itself in your mind, like a never-ending mantra, and you knew that deep down you were simply trying to lie to yourself.

sylus was simply using that hunter as well.

she was just as much of a tool to him like you were.

that woman is nothing special.

yet it all came crashing down one late evening, when you stepped into his room in hopes of seeking some sort of comfort from him. you were dressed in a thin nightgown, with your heart racing with anticipation within your chest. while admiring his sleeping face, you were filled with a longing for him, finding yourself praying that he would somehow return your feelings and take you in his arms all while admitting that he never wished to let you go.

when your hands reached out to him was when he began mumbling in his sleep, stating the syllables that made up a name that had your heart cease its beats almost immediately.

a name that wasn't your name-

"lorelai..."

you felt like you couldn't breathe, hearing his deep voice becoming so filled with yearning for that woman that it made you sick to your stomach. hot tears were felt streaming down your face, and you quickly turned away from him all while biting down against your fist.

lorelailorelailorelailorelailorelai! it was always her!

the woman with the smooth, pale skin and alluring gaze; her doe eyes and perfect hair managing to captivate sylus within mere minutes of him meeting her. your heart was utterly destroyed along with your confidence and love for him.

after everything you had done for him, he still refused to give you his heart-

yet it was stolen so freely by that perfect woman... lorelai-

you didn't think you could forget the way sylus spoke her name, filled with such reverence that it made you feel dizzy with envy.

spending several days avoiding sylus, doing your best to cut him out of your life. you wanted to skip any confrontations, not wishing to even admit the truth about your feelings when it came to him-

but as always, you were foolish into thinking that sylus would ever give you an easy way out.

you had been taking your usual trek home, ready to enter your apartment complex when a flurry of black feathers begin marring your vision, making you stop dead in your tracks when the onychinus leader appears before you. his large hands grips at your wrists almost painfully, making you cry out.

but perhaps more so than the pain was the fact that he treated you roughly, clearly not caring about your own well-being whereas he treated lorelai like she was made of porcelain.

"where the hell have you been?" annoyance twists sylus's features, morphing it into an expression of absolute disdain for you. "i've spent weeks trying to get in contact with you, and it turns out you've had me blocked this entire time?"

anger surges through you, and you use that sole emotion to fuel you when you manage to shove sylus away from you. his eyes go wide, taking a few steps back while giving you an incredulous expression. strengthening your resolve, you meet his gaze and give him the iciest glare that you could manage.

"we need to stop this charade, sylus. i can't go on working for you, not when you make it so damn obvious that i was never the one for you."

a flash of emotion was seen within his crimson gaze before quickly disappearing. his jaw seems to tighten in response to the way he was now gritting his teeth, "what are you talking about?"

you sharply inhale, finally spilling your darkest secret to him, "i love you, but you don't give a damn about me- not like you do with her."

surprise flashes across his features, and he takes an unsteady step towards you, "you... what?"

shaking your head, you angrily wipe away your tears, "i love you, that's why i can't be with you anymore. everything i've done, i've done for you, to make you fucking happy- to make you acknowledge me."

with your head held high, you meet his gaze and tell him (all while managing to keep your voice even), "if you want me to come back to you, then you need to make a choice. knowing how i feel about you, how i've always felt about you, you need to choose-

if you want me to come back, it's me. but if you choose her, then i'll be forever gone from your life."

sylus looks away from you, remaining silent for just a few seconds before his body began to shake, his laughter seeming to pierce through your heart, "you have no idea how long i have yearned for her... so to have lorelai so much closer to me than ever before, it's clear that i would accept any losses, including you."

the devastation you felt in that very moment was almost too much to bear, with you quickly running away from him. the tears continue to cascade down your cheeks, and every memory you shared with him continues to play within your mind.

your love-

the sacrifices you had made for him-

it had been all for naught.

when you were hired to work as one of the general surgeons as akso hospital, you felt as though you had hit the jackpot, landing a job at such a prestigious hospital in the heart of linkon. feeling happy at being able to further your career, you didn't think that anything could possibly distract you.

that is... until dr. zayne came into the picture.

you had heard about his achievements in the medical field, and you held a great deal of respect for him. becoming a cardiac surgeon of his caliber was no easy feat, and the fact that someone so young could accomplish it was commendable to you.

in fact, you were eager to start your work life with dr. zayne-

however, what you didn't expect was to fall so deeply in love with him at first sight. his bright eyes and the way his tiny smiles would constantly invade your mind was taking its toll on you. each time you would think about him, daydreaming of scenarios with your beloved doctor, your coworkers could see your lovestruck expression and take note of how your cheeks would suddenly go warm at the sight of zayne.

you were just so enamored with him that you gathered your courage and asked him out, first. after all, there was no penalties for developing a relationship between coworkers as long as both parties kept it professional while on the clock.

the memory of you confessing to zayne became a fond one. you had heard from yvonne that his favorite food were macaroons, and you figured that you had a better chance of winning his heart by gifting him his favorite food. so, with the box of colorful cookies in hand, you step into zayne's office and offered the gift to him all while confessing your feelings for him.

"zayne, i apologize if you find this... unprofessional, but i can't hide my feelings for you any longer. i... i truly like you so much, so please, will you give me a chance and go out with me?"

you watch as his eyes grow wider, an embarrassed expression taking over his expression as he hides his lips from you with the palm of his hand. he seems to be deep in thought, and after much deliberation, he accepts your confession and agrees to date you.

for the first couple of weeks, you were on cloud 9. zayne was nothing short of being the perfect boyfriend, taking you out on weekend dates at the end of your long shifts while giving you special trinkets here and there.

but there was one glaring issue-

zayne never once kissed you.

sure, he gave you gentle hugs here and there, yet each time you would lean up to try and kiss him, zayne would inevitably look away from you, saying that he was tired or how it wasn't the right moment to kiss.

despite how he never once complained or said a word to you, his lack of affection-

or rather, the lack of him reciprocating your affections, was taking its toll on you.

and you couldn't figure out the reasoning behind his distance until much later.

you had just come out of surgery, and as you stepped out into the lobby, you saw something that made you freeze, unable to move or say a single word.

standing a mere few feet away from you was zayne, and he was smiling at a petite woman. never before had you seen zayne appearing so soft before. the woman seemed to be chattering on about something to zayne, and your boyfriend did nothing but smile at everything she said-

as if he were hanging on to her every word.

feeling the pinpricks of jealousy beginning to surface, you march towards zayne and take a hold of his hand, doing your best to maintain a casual air as you cling to zayne and smile at the other woman. "zayne, i was looking everywhere for you!"

your laughter was strained as you eyed the woman, feeling the envious feelings begin to rise upon seeing how... perfect she looked. with kind eyes and full, rosy lips tilted up in a smile, she greets you. "hello, you must be zaynie's girlfriend! my name is ashley, and zayne's been my friend since we were little kids! he talks a lot about you, and i'm happy he's met someone so wonderful."

from your periphery, you could see the way zayne winces upon hearing ashley's words. it was clear that her calling zayne as simply her friend was enough to earn a wounded expression from him-

and that was the moment your epiphany came.

there was a reason why zayne never kissed you; why he never went beyond hugging you while taking you on simple dates-

it's because his heart had never been yours to begin with-

it belonged to her.

the blood had already rushed to your ears, blocking out whatever ashley had said before she excuses herself, leaving the hospital lobby. in your daze, you look down to see zayne clutching on to something tightly, realizing that ashley had made lunch for him.

feeling your throat go dry, you manage to tell him, "we need to talk."

zayne gives you a stiff nod, following you towards the upper floors and into his office with almost robotic movements. upon reaching the privacy of his office, you close the door, watching as zayne gingerly places the container filled with ashley's homemade lunch on his desk.

"who is she?"

zayne doesn't meet your gaze, simply staring out the window, answering your question softly, "it's like she said, she's a childhood friend."

"...a childhood friend that you love."

your heart was felt shattering all over again when zayne stiffens momentarily before visibly relaxing, as if feeling some type of relief-

like he didn't need to lie to himself or hide it anymore.

you thought hearing him confirm your suspicions would be the end of your heartache, but it was so much worse when he admits to you, "ashley is the reason why i worked so hard to become a cardiac surgeon. she... she has a heart defect, and i wish to save her life... to keep her alive and live a happy, fulfilling life."

his admission has left you reeling in response, the pain becoming so palatable that you could feel your heart begin shattering into a million pieces. "if you love her so much, why aren't you with her?" you ask him, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

zayne simply shakes his head in response, "she doesn't feel the same way for me... and truth be told... she deserves better than me. even though i've loved her through every timeline and universe, i-"

your heart couldn't take zayne's pain any longer, the hurt you once felt for him quickly becoming overshadowed by the unconditional love you still felt for him. taking him within your embrace, you feel the way he trembles against you, clinging to you as soft sobs were wracked through him.

and when he finally lifts up your chin, meeting your gaze while sayig your name with a broken gasp, he finally kisses you-

the taste of your first and last kiss with him was salty with his tears, yet you were too far gone to realize that this single kiss of desperation was made in response to his own lingering emotions for ashley-

never for you.

"there's a new girl that's going to be my partner at the association... and i'm in charge of looking out for her."

xavier tells you as you prepared dinner for the night. you frown at this information, but thought nothing of it. after all, he was skilled at his job as a hunter, often receiving praise for his strength when it came to dealing with the wanderers that roam the world.

"that's fine, i know what your work entails, xavier. you're a hunter, and if there's a newbie you need to train, then that's the end of it." you tell him with a hum, your back now facing him as you focused on cooking once more, missing the relieved expression on his face.

you serve dinner and ask him about his day, only to receive one word answers in response. this also seemed a bit strange for you, since xavier never really shied away when it came to telling you about his day and how he felt.

you had both been dating to close to a year now, with you growing closer after becoming friends. you realized that you both shared similar interests and just... naturally progressed your relationship into something a bit more romantic. at the 6 month mark of your newly developed relationship, you decided to move in together with him.

it was true that you dated and had a few other boyfriends before, yet none of them were quite as serious as your relationship with xavier. despite never once saying the l word to each other, deep down, you knew that you were falling for xavier. in fact, with the sheer amount of times you had gushed to your family and friends about how much you adored him, they were confident that you would get engaged the moment your one year anniversary hit.

with the date quickly approaching in just a few weeks, you began to paint your daydreams, thinking of different ways xavier would propose to you while giggling like a little girl. you had always dreamt of having the perfect proposal, and you couldn't help but feel giddy at the thought of what was to come.

after serving dinner, you sit across from xavier, taking a few bites here and there all while sneaking glances at him. you couldn't stop grinning at him, which makes xavier raise his eyebrows at you in suspicion.

"what? do i have sauce on my face?"

you snort and quickly shake your head, reassuring him that you were simply caught up in your reveries. xavier doesn't bring up the subject any longer, simply returning to his meal.

later that night, as you both got ready for bed, you were dressed comfortably in your favorite pajamas all while anticipating xavier's return to you. after his usual shower, he comes out of the bathroom with a plush towel wrapped around his head. tossing the damp towel into the hamper, he gets into bed, with you expecting your boyfriend to face you while taking you in his arms.

but when he gets into bed with his back turned towards you, you had to fight back the strange pang felt within your chest. your mouth kept opening and closing, asking him if he was okay-

"sorry, i'm just a bit exhausted. let's just sleep..."

ignoring the way your throat seemed to clench in response, you give him a stiff nod, only to realize that he couldn't see you. "r-right... i understand, you're tired, that's all."

the tears were felt brimming against your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away, falling into bed while clenching your eyes shut. you tried to ignore the lingering suspicions, distracting yourself by counting sheep until you could fall into a restless slumber all while trying to convince yourself that everything was going to be okay...

{ ... }

the weeks leading up to your first anniversary with xavier was strained, to say the least.

for starters, he seemed to be taking on more missions than usual, all while telling you that teresa was still new and needed someone with experience like him on these higher level missions.

at first, his reasonings didn't bother you or raise any alarm, and you simply allowed him to work with teresa because it was his job and that woman was his partner. you couldn't let your insecure thoughts put a damper on his job.

even when you saw him less and less-

your love never once wavered for him.

on the day of your one year anniversary, you decided to surprise him at work instead. surely, he would have completed his mission sometime during the late afternoon, and you were certain that he would appreciate your kindness.

with his favorite takeout in hand, you walk into the hunter association building, weaving your way through the area. it takes you a few minutes to locate him, but when you went down to the lower levels and could see his familiar, blond hair, you quicken your pace, his name already on the tip of your tongue when you freeze in your steps.

"i thought i had lost you!" xavier's voice was heard cracking as he wrapped his arms around another woman, seeming to crush her slender frame against his chest. your heart begins to ache at the sight, making your labored breathing feel even more painful as you struggled to remain calm and not hyperventilate.

but, it was clear that such a heartbreak would not break even when he opens his eyes and sees your trembling form staring blankly at him. even after seeing you, xavier does not move away from the woman, seeming to hold her even closer to him as he shakes his head at you.

while meeting your gaze, he mouths a few words, and you could read his lips while taking in those harsh syllables. you drop the bag of takeout, your choked sob echoing throughout the area as you ran out of the building.

your sobs coupled along with your gasps for air were making a scene, with some of the civilians looking at you with bewildered expressions. yet you stopped caring, allowing your mind to piece together what had always been in front of you ever since teresa had come into his life.

xavier distancing himself from you-

xavier suddenly filled with the desire to protect teresa, a woman he had just met-

the way he held her so tightly at the memory of nearly losing her-

a sudden cry of your name stops you from taking another step, your stupid heart suddenly filling with hope when you hear xavier's voice and his rapidly approaching footsteps.

you hear him stop a few feet away from you, his voice strained once he begins speaking once more. "i... i'm so sorry, i didn't want you to find out like this, but you have to know the truth."

it takes you a herculean effort to fight back your tears, but you knew you had to hold it together and allow xavier to finally explain himself. "i do care about you... but... fuck, the moment i saw her, everything else just melted away. all of my life, my entire existence, was simply waiting for her to come back to me. i've waited so long for her... and what i feel for her... it's like... like gravity isn't what's keeping me grounded, but she is."

you had no idea what kept you rooted on the spot, knowing that both your heart and mind were screaming at you to move away. but, you couldn't find the strength to do so. instead, you had to listen to his words once more, the same ones he had mouthed to you earlier-

"i'm sorry, but i love her..."

when the beautiful and charming rafayel confessed to you, you accepted his feelings and simply wished to date him just to have fun. despite his occupation as an artist, rafayel was so full of life- so full of light that you couldn't stop yourself from basking in his brilliance.

during the first few weeks of your relationship, your rafe was achingly sweet and cute, often giving you sketches he made of you when he drew your portraits on a whim. he liked calling you his muse before pressing audible kisses against your features, earning a series of joyous laughter from you. because of how much you adored rafayel, you often liked to spend the night at his place, where you would both order your favorite seafood and simply watch cheesy rom-coms together.

as time went on, you began to realize that you were falling hard for the young artist, with him being constantly on your mind even when you were at work. and just when you thought you couldn't love him anymore than you already did, he surprises you by gifting you a gorgeously crafted bracelet that had cute little seashells along with aquamarine gemstones.

altogether, your relationship was achingly perfect with rafayel, with you being certain that he would become your endgame. truly, there were times where you felt like your relationship with rafayel was too good to be true-

yet sadly, you would learn the harsh reality when it came to his feelings for you, realizing that the love rafayel had given you had been his own way of coping.

when it was nearing your 8 month mark of being together with him, rafayel suddenly became distant with you, often locking himself within his studio as he seemed to produce copious amounts of artworks. of course, when you tried to see his new paintings and sculptures, rafayel would hide them all away from you, covering them all with a thick sheet while distracting you with a date.

this behavior was strange, but you thought nothing of it. perhaps he was nervous about an upcoming art exhibit, and he didn't wish to reveal anything until the day of his exhibition came.

so, you went along with it, making up excuses each time rafayel would stiffen when you hugged him, or suddenly turned his head away from you each time you tried to kiss him.

but perhaps what hurt the most was the day you found out the reasoning behind his growing distance. rafayel told you he needed to take a break from making art and invited you over to enjoy the evening with him. you arrive an hour earlier (unable to contain your excitement at finally spending some time with him), and caught him with streaks of paint decorating his outfit.

he mentions how early you are, yet still allows you inside, telling you to make yourself at home while he takes a quick shower. as you rest against his kitchen counter, you hear the shower go off and smile. a few minutes pass, and you felt the palm of your hands begin to itch with a sudden sensation.

biting down at your bottom lip, you look towards the area where rafayel keeps all of his artwork. you were filled with curiosity, wondering what he was working on that made it such a touchy subject for rafe each time you asked about it.

you close your eyes, still hearing rafayel in the shower when you decided to push yourself away from the counter. "i'll just take a quick peek, then put the sheets back in place. he won't even notice."

stepping into his gallery room, you turn on all the lights, coming closer to the sheet as you gripped at the corner of it before pulling it away-

only to reveal a gorgeous carving that depicted a mermaid. she was by far the loveliest creature you had ever seen, with her soft features carved with a gentle smile as she held a pearl within her slender hands. from the amount of care rafayel had put into making her, it was clear that this sculpture was made with love.

there was just one problem-

the mermaid looked nothing like you.

your throat was felt painfully clenching at the sudden realization, but you brushed it off as mere paranoia. surely, there was some other art piece that held your likeness. as you trail your eyes towards a canvas now, you felt your heart sink even further.

it was the same woman; her features matches that of the mermaid sculpture, but this time, you could see the colors. her cheeks were painted in a rosy hue, with each paint stroke seeming to accentuate the soft beauty the woman displayed. around her neck was an aquamarine pendant in the shape of a banded tulip seashell. trailing your eyes further downwards towards the frame, you felt your heart clench upon seeing the title of his painting:

melody, my beloved queen

your mind was racing now, and the sheer intensity of the hurt and envy you felt renders you incapable of taking another step. you were so caught up in your reveries that you didn't even realize that rafayel had come out of the showers until he places the sheets over his works once more.

"you- you weren't supposed to see that."

slowly, you turn around to face him, and his guilty expression was more than enough proof, confirming your suspicions that the woman he kept painting and sculpting- this melody-

he loved her.

"why did you even approach me when your heart was never mine to begin with?"

you were proud at how even your voice came out, and when rafayel tried to stutter out some excuse, you immediately cut him off.

"no more bullshit lies, rafayel. tell me."

the artist lets out a string of curses, running a hand through his damp hair. unable to meet your gaze out of shame, he sighs before admitting, "it's because she doesn't remember me... even after meeting her, she only sees me as a friend. she... doesn't remember me."

your throat was burning now, and you could feel the tears streaming down your face, "then why waste your time with me?"

rafayel meets your gaze, a pained expression painting his features. yet his next words succeeds in absolutely devastating you:

"i used you as a means to try and forget her."

the agony you felt was indescribable, with you immediately turning away from rafayel. the sting of his betrayal was felt coursing through your very veins when you rushed out of his home and into the cold, night air.

you wanted to grip at your hair and scream at the top of your lungs-

you wanted to claw at the sidewalk, making sure that your nails bled with each scrape against the concrete-

but perhaps most of all, you wanted to rip your heart out for still loving rafayel despite it all-

even when you were no longer his muse.

[ all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!! ]

[themotherofhorses]

Vic!! I have a request pretty pls hehehe,

Creepy dark! Aemond forcing his way with fem!reader as she sleeps after stalking him for many moons? PWEASEEE

what was mine is still mine, regardless of time.

pairing: soft but dark!aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

warnings: explicit language. nsfw smut. slight breeding kink towards the end. consented abduction. aemond is (as usual) obsessive and possessive but is actually kinda a sweetheart in this.

notes: ok so small thing: i kinda put my own twist to this request, because this sort of idea has lived in my head RENT FREE since forevvaaa. hope u enjoy it :)

masterlist

Dragonstone was quiet when arrived, the sea tide calm and peaceful.

Aemond Targaryen could not remember the last time he stepped foot in the castle, if he ever did at all, having spent the entirety of his life behind the bronze doors of the Red Keep. He did not care for the damned island, nor did he hold any love for its people, but his twentieth nameday was fast approaching, and his mother was insisting more and more that he take a wife soon.

“Now, where will you be,” he mumbles to himself as he rips off his riding gloves and tucks them into his belt.

The castle hallways were without light, and no houseguards stood afoot. Aemond smirks. It would be much easier for him to find you, tucked away in your own chamber.

Your personal chamber was nicely furnished, in the colors and style of your shared noble house, and had an aura belonging only to a Targaryen princess. Thick wool carpets covered the floor instead of harsh black stone, and your windows were cracked open just a little, with pretty drapes swaying from the light ocean breeze. The walls were hung with different tapestries, all of horses and dragons, and the doors were flanked by Valyrian sphinxes.

And to the corner was your bed, where you, his niece, lay atop, fast asleep.

Aemond wills his heart to continue beating, and for his cock to behave.

He has not laid eyes on you in almost a full decade, ten years too long for him. Both your parents whisked you away to Dragonstone when you were still a child, soft-faced and in the mid of girlhood.

They refused his mother’s offer for a betrothal between the two of you, and broke his heart to the tiniest of pieces that he wondered if they were still scattered around the Keep. But that was so many moons ago, and time slipped by him.

“Gods be good,” Aemond whispers, moving closer.

What has happened to that little girl, that kid niece of his? In her place sleeps a living goddess, too lovely for mankind. You’ve grown beautiful, a mirror image to your mother, his eldest sister. He bends to kiss your bare shoulder- just a simple and tiny kiss- and you stir in your sleep. It is cute, he admits, but he also can not wait another second longer.

Only the gods above know how much he’s wanted you.

With a hard yank, Aemond draws back the bedsheet covers, causing you to jolt up from the bed. You look around, confused and scared and still half-asleep, purple eyes clouding from drowsiness. In front of you sits a stranger, a man- silver-haired and cloaked in black riding leather. Across his eye, an eyepatch.

Your heart quickens at the sight. “Aemond…?” you call out, unsure.

He smiles, teeth and all. “You do not know how happy it makes me to know you are still able to recognize me, my niece. After all, it has been awhile- ten years, has it not?”

You shrug, trying to wipe the sleep away from your eyes. “What…what are you doing here?” you ask, while patting down the bed, looking for the sheets to cover your chest. “Should you not be at King’s Landing? Why are you here?” Your eyes grow as wide as a dinner plate as you soon add, “Oh no, has something happened? Is it my grandfather?”

But Aemond scoots closer, bringing his face to yours. “Do not fret, nice. I’m here on my own wishes,” and he twirls a thin strand of silver hair around his finger, humming as he watches it fall back around your shoulder. In that sheer Dornish nightgown, you look good enough to eat, and the princeling is feeling beyond ravenous.

“I’m here to collect a debt.”

Lucerys…you think, a sinking feeling in your chest. His stolen eye, that night on Driftmark…

Ten years and Aemond still seeks revenge.

“No,” Aemond says, shaking his head. He moves even closer, grabbing at your shoulders. His palms are rough and callous. “I would dare not hurt you. Anyone but you. You…” he sighs, “-you were promised to me, back when we were children. You were meant to be my wife, and they stole you from me. The only good fucking thing in my life, and it was taken away…”

He studies you, his eye running across your face, down your neck and to your chest.

That Dornish nightgown clings loose to your body, and he can see your nipples perk against the fabric. It sends blood rushing between his thighs. “Tell me, niece, what did I do to deserve that?”

“Aemond…”

“No!” he hisses, tightening his grip on you. “No! You have not the slightest idea of the fucking torture I’ve endured these years. The nights I stayed up, begging to the gods that I might have you. I thought…maybe if they heard my pleas, saw my faith, they would…but no. Ten years, and not a single glimpse of you.” Your breath hitches when he meets your gaze, “I dreamt of you, every damned night. Fought the urges to fly over and collect you from here…”

You shake your head. “Aemond…” you say, softly. “I’m betrothed to another, this cannot be.” You press your hand against his cheek, feeling him lean into your touch, and kiss his forehead. “I have missed you greatly, uncle, but it has been years! So many years. I’m to be married soon.” You pull back, “It is best if you return home, and start finding a lady of your own choosing.”

Aemond sighs, and inside his chest, he feels his heart being ripped apart again.

“You are right, my dearest niece. My sincerest apologies for waking you up, it was quite wrong of me. I shall see myself out,” and he kisses your hand, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “I wish you all the luck in your marriage, and may your husband love and appreciate you till the dying days of his damned life.”

You smile at him, though a bit sad now. “Thank you, uncle. To you as well.”

The princeling turns to leave, and you sit up watching as he makes his way to your door, before sinking back into your bed. “Goodbye, Aemond,” you call out, one final time before your eyes close, failing to see him pause and turn around to look at you.

What was he doing? Foolish man, he thinks. Foolish, stupid man!

Was it in his nature to admit defeat so easily, and to some unnamed wastrel cunt of a man? No. Throughout his life, Aemond suffered nothing but tremendous losses, while being denied the goodness and fairness that a child should’ve had. His lips pucker at the thought.

You were right there, close enough for him to finally claim.

And so he did.

“Shhh, keep your voice down,” Aemond tuts next to your ear, a heavy arm slung over your naked breasts as he holds you as close to his chest as possible. It feels as if he is frightened to let you go, worried you would disappear before his very eye, with another ten years slipping by until he finds you again.

His other hand lies between your trembling thighs, fingering you with such an intensity and speed that it leaves you utterly ruined and in tears. “Aemond…” you hiccup, nibbling at your bottom lip as he groans. “Fuck! You sound so good when you say my name like that. Gods be good, you are wet. Absolutely soaking my fingers. Doesn’t this feel good?” he asks, using his thumb to rub at your clit. “Yeah…it does, doesn’t it?”

You sniffle, fat tears streaking down both cheeks as you nod.

Oh, it feels good. So good, but so wrong as well.

You were to be married in less than a fortnight, to a highborn lord of House Stark, handsome and kind. How would you explain this to him? Or to your parents, who proposed the marriage between you two? How would you tell them that you were ruined? And it was your uncle’s fault.

��Please, Aemond…”

Aemond grabs at your jaw, cradling it in his hand before pulling it close to his face. “Shhh, it will be alright, my love. Do not fret. You will be okay, just give in,” he whispers, quickening his fingers as he fucks them into you, curling two to hit your sweet spot. You almost scream, so overcome with pleasure that it hurts. “This is where you are meant to be, darling, make no mistake in believing that. My bride, my love.”

My woman, he thinks gleefully, watching how your face scrunches up. Your eyebrows furrow and your mouth press together in a tight line, and it is the most beautiful sight.

My woman, made for me. Made for my love and protection and seed…

Goosebumps prickle along your arms as wet sounds echo across the chamber, followed by a strew of whimpers and moans. It sounds so dirty, so sinful and wrong that you pray to whichever god was listening in that no one would overhear such, especially your parents and siblings. Your father would have Aemond’s head, no doubt, and your older brother might rob him of his only other good eye.

“Oh, fuck…” you moan, flinging your head back, “-don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

A minute or so later, your vision blackens, the room spins, and your jaw slacks as you cum plenty around his fingers, all with such a high-pitched shriek that Aemond slaps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. “What did I say? Stay quiet!” he hisses before chuckling, smearing the mess around your folds while you make an attempt to catch your breath. “Very good, my love. You did so well for me.”

He brings a finger to his mouth, to suck at the taste. “Your taste is heavenly,” he moans, swirling his tongue around it. He then brings two to your mouth, swiping at the tiny bit of drool pooling before stuffing them in. “Suck. Taste yourself now.”

“Dirty girl,” Aemond hums, a smirk curving on his lips as he watches the way you lick and suck at his fingers. “You are digging a grave too deep to escape, darling.”

Ruin me, you want to say. If I’m to die, I rather it be in your hands than anyone else’s…

He lays you back down on the bed next, making sure your head rests comfortably against the pillows. Ten years, Aemond reminds himself. Ten fucking years. He can feel his resolve slowly weakening by the second. You’re too beautiful, too soft and womanly and perfect for him. Every fantasy he dreamt up during boyhood never claim as close as to this. “I dreamt of this for fucking years,” he admits while kissing your pink and pouty lips. “All the possible ways to take you, to fuck this pretty cunt of yours.”

Your legs wrap around his hips as he pushes his cock inside you. It is painful- undeniably painful- yet he swallows every cry and wince and moan that you give. Your fingernails dig into his skin from the terrible pain- the stretch and the sting and the weird feeling growing deep within your tummy.

“It is too much…!” you whimper against his lips. “Hurts!”

“Of course it hurts, darling, it is your first time. Every woman hurts when a man takes her first blood. But you can take it.”

“No,” you whine, trying to shove him away. “No, Aemond, it hurts too much-” But Aemond only kisses your temple, sweet and gentle and lovingly, while rocking his hips against yours. “It’ll feel so good soon, my love, trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you, not my precious and sweet girl,” he coos, leaning to rub your noses together, “-my brave girl.”

Ten years.

He could not stop, even if he wished to. No, not now that he finally has you, underneath his body and wet and ripe for his seed.

“I’ll give you our child,” he mutters beside your lips as he pinches your nipple between two fingers and keeps his thrusts hard, deep, and fast. All of it makes your face twist in a soft gasp, your body tightening as you feel that thick rush of pleasure from before, right before you creamed over his fingers.

“Take my seed and have our child. I promise to take you back to King’s Landing and marry you," he vows through ragged breaths, "and spend the rest of our lives making up for those ten years.”

“Aemond,” you pant, clutching onto his shoulders and dragging his face down for a kiss. His skin is sweaty and flushed, and he has never appeared so beautiful before. You love him. You love him so much, how did you spend ten years without seeing him? It makes no sense. You understand his woes now, clear as day, and you want to rid of them forever.

“I love you! I love you, I love you, make me your wife, please. Please!”

He feels your cunt tightening around his cock, and he is ready to give you everything: his heart, his soul, and his seed.

Come the morning, his son will be swelling within your belly, and he will have you seated atop Vhagar, flying back to the Keep to make you his wife, in both the eyes of the gods and the laws of the land.

The next day, at dawning, Rhaenyra Targaryen’s only daughter does not join her family to break fast together. Her three half-brothers and two half-sisters raise eyebrows as they munch quietly on their meals but keep silent, all until little Joffrey asks where his older sister might be. Rhaenyra does not know, and neither do the houseguards, the men of the small council, and the maesters, and it worries her greatly.

Her husband, though, is quick to remind her that the princess- ever their trueborn child- enjoys morning rides on dragonback. “Give her a few hours and she will surely return with a new story to tell us,” Daemon says, while sipping on his wine.

But a few hours turn into the rest of the day, and soon evening creeps by.

A raven arrives from King’s Landing, bearing the family a note:

“I’ve taken what was owed to me. Such a pity you all forgot that what was mine is still mine, regardless of time.”

[giorno-plays-piano]

Metamorph

Part III

Pairing: art teacher!Aemond Targaryen x reader (Horror AU)

Warnings: dark!Aemond, obsessive behavior, murder, horror, yandere, kidnapping, misanthropy, general creepy stuff.

Words: 1.1k

Summary: Drawn to the artworks of one of the most esteemed artists in the city, you wish to learn from him and find out what inspires him to create his masterpieces. You have no idea how much his secrets will cost you.

Part I | Part II

____________

You clenched your fancy Kohinoor pencil between your fingers like it's a gun, staring at Aemond already posing in front of all of you. No procrastination, you reminded yourself firmly as you drew a long vertical line across the paper to balance the future drawing. Your teacher hadn't berated you for your mistakes even once. It'd be fine if you got this one wrong, too. Anything was better than an empty sheet.

God, but Aemond was so pretty. His high cheekbones, his strong nose and jaw, and those thin but expressive lips, the long scar across the left side of his face...

You quickly hid behind your easel.

Breathe. Just get out of your head, you repeated to yourself Aemond's very words. You needed to get started, and whatever happened next didn't matter as long as you allowed yourself to draw whatever came to your mind. Explanations and logic be damned. You were an artist! At these rare moments, you were supposed to feel, not think.

Slowly inhaling and exhaling to keep your anxiety at bay, you uncleched the pencil in your fingers and slowly started shaping the figure on a sheet. It's fine. Aemond wouldn't get mad anyway as long as you did what he said.

The more you put your pencil to the sheet, the easier it was getting, something unfurling in your chest, putting a stop to your anxious thoughts and fears of failure as you continued to build Aemond's body, starting to get into details once you finished with the primary form. Regardless of his talent and uniqueness as an artist, he was still only a fellow human being like you. There was no need to magnify his power.

By the time Aemond walked over to you, you were almost finished with the painting, landing the last strokes to color the palms of the man on the sheet. It was that very red paint you had been mooning over for many months, complimenting its unusual vibrant color and a pleasant consistency. It was hard to believe you were now using it for your own artwork, but time was running out, and you didn't have a spare moment to be drooling over the paint.

"What do we have here?" The artist hummed, making you jump in your seat. How on Earth did he manage to walk so quietly in a room full of tables, chairs, and people?

Trying to focus on his question, you suddenly realized you had no clue how to present your idea to the teacher. Did you even draw what he had asked you to? What was that, not changing the silhouette and using mainly paint to express yourself or something?

You felt the beads of sweat promptly forming on your forehead as you clenched your jaw.

"You've been improving," Aemond told you, eye on the drawing as he tilted his head to the side. "Body proportions seem right, and I like the way you shaped the arms and legs. You had difficulties with them before."

Oh, really? You surely had problems drawing arms, but you didn't notice you were becoming better. A pleasant surprise. Not that one wouldn't expect to improve after taking lessons from the most esteemed artist in the city.

"Why did you paint the head and hands in red?"

Oh, crap. Why did you? You frantically searched for an answer other than "no idea, Sir, I think my subconsciousness just took over my body." Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you looked up to Aemond bent over, intently studying your artwork.

Cautiously, you muttered, "I-I think every change starts from the head, Sir."

Would that qualify for an answer? But Aemond quickly directed his gaze at you and demanded, "And hands?"

Biting your poor lip that no amont of lip balm was going to save after today's lesson, you mumbled, "Hands are the tool that make the change happen, Sir."

"Very logical, yes. Now, forget about trying to give me a logical answer and tell me what you felt when you were drawing this. Tell me about the paint."

He bent over even closer to you, practically breathing into your face, and you almost lost the ability to produce any adequate sounds. Your teacher clearly saw through your bullshit, and the thought that he was upset or even mad at you made you feel miserable.

"It's a metamorph, Sir," you whispered, one step closer to having a panic attack and hoping no student in the room was listening to your rambling, "and red is a color of life. Of change."

Aemond cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at you. "Why do you think red is the color of change? Is it because the change scares you?"

"It's not the change itself that scares me. It's what the metamorph is becoming, Sir," you uttered in a small voice and then added even quieter, praying only Aemond could hear you, "I think- I think he's turning into something violent, Sir. Something terrifying."

It took you a second to recognize what you've just said and what reaction it has provoked.

All of a sudden, you were staring in the face of Aemond Targaryen with his thin lips stretched so wide in a smile that it was even a little creepy. Was he... content? Did he want to laugh at your silly attempt to explain your feelings when you'd been drawing? You wouldn't even be offended, to be fair. It sounded like nonsense to you, too.

But no, he didn't seem to find it funny. Instead, you felt his palm squeezing your shoulder firmly, his smile unwavering as he spoke to you in a hushed voice the way you'd been answering to him, "Very good. My favorite artwork today so far."

As he got up, moving to the next student on your left, you were ready to jump and run away from the studio because, clearly, you were going to burst from the excess of feelings and anxiety in the next five seconds. Your teacher said it was his favorite painting today. This banal, lacking in originality in its every aspect thing was his favorite. When blood rushed to your head, making you sweat and feel disoriented, you clutched the brush between your fingers, squeezing your eyes shut.

Aemond Targaryen liked your painting. Despite being the very inspiration for the beautiful but horrifying metamorph, he actually had some sort of fondness for it because later, before you left, he actually asked you to allow him to keep the artwork for his own collection. Why did he like it so much? You had no idea.

_________

Tags: @heavenly1927 @yazzzmints @devils-blackrose @lost-and-founds @kennafild @toodlesxcuddles @shygardengalaxy

[unecoccinellenoire]

i wish you would write a fic where … hesperia is flirting with our nathalie. she’s cool with it.

It happens in a matter of seconds. One moment she’s talking to a despondent Adrien on the sofa trying to coax out how exactly he got back to Paris from the train while the television drones on about Monarch and the next an explosion shatters the window.

Bomb, her mind screams at her.

Nathalie throws herself over Adrien instinctively, but her prostheses weigh her down and throw her off balance and when she lands it’s against the sofa without her charge in sight. And then a body lands against hers and panic that Adrien would try to protect her shoots down her spine before she belatedly registers she’s being shielded by someone larger than her not smaller.

As her saviour gently lifts her she relaxes against his purple suit, and lets her eyes rest for a second against the bright light as she inhales that soothing masculine scent of his. She might despise Gabriel right now, she might know that any safety he appears to offer is an illusion, but that doesn’t mean that illusion isn’t working for her right now.

“It’s alright madame,” he promises in a soft baritone that-

-that isn’t Monarch’s booming tones.

She opens her eyes. This isn’t Gabriel. He’d never wear just the Butterfly Miraculous when he has the rest of them, and even if he did this isn’t Hawk Moth. The mask only covers part of his place and his fair hair hangs freely over it.

Her brain buzzes in confusion. Or maybe that’s her ears ringing from the explosion. Either way she’s too out of it to come up with anything more sensible than, “safe?”

His eyes are kind but something sparks in them as he smiles. It looks familiar. It looks like how Gabriel had used to smile at Emilie before unleashing some phrase he thought was exceedingly charming.

“A place like this isn’t a good place for a pretty lady like you,” he says, “much as it’d be a pleasure to keep rescuing you I wouldn’t be much of a hero if I left you in danger like that.”

An embarrassing warmth spreads below her stomach. Flirtation isn’t wholly unfamiliar to Nathalie, for all that she’s buried in an industry where beauty is the currency and she hardly draws attention. But usually the flirtation comes loaded with ulterior motives from people who know who she is.

Then again. This man has apparently stolen the Butterfly Miraculous from Gabriel. No doubt he does know who she is and he does have ulterior motives.

She needs to get it together.

“A pleasure, Isn’t that a bit forward? I don’t even know your name.”

“Hesperia, my lady.” He looks like he’d tip a hat to her if he had one, “and yours? Is it worthy of you?”

“I don’t know about worthy. I’m Nathalie.”

“That’s a beautiful name. Like you. But I really should get you somewhere safe- I don’t like the sound of this Monarch character.”

“Monarch?” She traces the Miraculous on his chest, “didn’t you take this from him?”

“I’m sorry to dash your hopes. This isn’t my universe my dear.”

“Oh.” She studies his face, that tanned skin, those eyes, those cheekbones. “And you’re- a hero?”

She tries to imagine it. Gabriel, a hero and not a villain. Flirting with her rather than eternally loyal to Emilie. She can’t hold the image in her mind. It seems too impossible. And yet the man in front of her clearly exists, clear is a possibility.

“I try my best.” He says, still smiling.

She raises an eyebrow. “When you’re not flirting with random woman?”

Though maybe being easily distracted is a trait it’s easier to reconcile with her Gabriel. The real Gabriel. Because this man is probably someone completely different in his universe.

“Well-“

“Or am I not random? Do you know me back home?” She interrupts. If Gabriel could be a hero, could have moved on from Emilie then maybe-

“I’m afraid not. A loss I assure you. Now, I found you in Gabriel Agreste’s home. Does he have a panic room? A bomb shelter? Somewhere I can stow you safely.”

Her heart fell into her stomach. Of course he didn’t know her. Of course she was just a random distraction to him. How could she be so stupid that Gabriel still had this grip on her even as he cared more about defeating a teenager than he did about her life?

“If he did it wouldn’t be for me,” her tone was as sour as the bile in her throat. It wasn’t quite true. Gabriel had never changed the code to where Emilie lay. She could hide down there. Only she didn’t care not, “Gabriel wouldn’t care if I died.”

He’d as good as told her that. Told her that it wasn’t about Emilie anymore either.

“Nathalie, I’m sure-“

But she can’t bear to hear such reassurances from him. Screw it, she decides, and drags him down by his lapels and stops him with her mouth on his.

He’ll probably drop her and leave her here, or stop her and lecture her about the morality of kissing people without asking first. She doesn’t care right now. She needs him to stop. And she needs to indulge in the pretence offered by his flirtation. That someone could want her, love her.

She wants to kiss someone before she dies.

And she’s dying sooner rather than later.

Hesperia gasps against her. He doesn’t do any of those things she’s expected. He lets her tongue into his mouth, and he’s warm and wet and perfect and he tastes a little like Gabriel’s favourite coffee.

Nathalie is the one to stop, as another crash shakes the roof they’re on.

“You should go.” She says, “put me down somewhere on the streets. I’ll be fine. We’re used to akuma attacks here. And- sorry.”

Those infuriating eyes are all pity, “I think you needed that. I am sorry Nathalie. That you have to live through these, akuma did you call it? Attacks. For whatever this Gabriel Agreste has done to you. And that I can’t see you again. But I have-“

“Your own universe to get back to. I get it. And you wouldn’t like me if you knew me anyway.” He’s a hero after all. Nathalie is the opposite of that. “And I’ll probably already be dead by any time you might come back to this universe.”

His eyebrows drew together, the corners of his mouth drooped down, “I don’t know you Nathalie. But I can tell you that you deserved better.”

“I don’t.” She has no illusions about that. She brought this on herself when Emilie had asked them to let her go. She hadn’t even managed to succeed in saving her. And she’d failed completely to care for Adrien, and perhaps even Gabriel like she’d asked her to. “You should go.”

“Alright,” he jumped down to street level with her still cradled in his arms and then gently deposited her down on the ground, “but Nathalie, do something for me?”

“What?” What could she possibly do for him?

“Don’t lose hope.”

She’d lost that already, had lost it the moment Gabriel had admitted to not just giving his past self the USB she’d meticulously prepared.

The one she’d given him knowing it would save her and Emilie at the cost of the friendship between them because had Emilie never fallen sick they would have continued that relationship of just messages on birthdays and at Christmas that they’d had after Tibet.

Only to discover Gabriel wasn’t even willing to sacrifice his pride.

But looking at Hesperia she finds she didn’t have the cruelty to crush him with that reality. Maybe that means he isn’t Gabriel.

She sighs, “I’ll try.”

And as she watches him leap away she thinks that maybe that wasn’t entirely a lie. That maybe she has no hope for her but herself but she can hope for the Nathalie of that world, that she’s happy and will be loved back. Can hope that the heroes here will beat Gabriel and somehow Adrien can be protected through all of it. Can hope she can do enough to ensure he’s safe.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: another little focus on dad drei! no worries, we’re moving on to some smut and the early years of the relationship with the next few fics lol. hahah i literally did not think this would be done today but work was quiet so i got to write and post and be the superstitious bitch that i am. so here we go, posting right before i watch the isles/caps game (on tv this time). i love love love the headcanon prompts and i will 100% be getting to all of them at some point, so be on the lookout 🥰

word count: 2.3k

tw: nothing really, a little innuendo

summary: andrei took care of all four kids while you were out and you come home to delightful chaos

“Hey, Nykki, I’m at the door, I have to go,” you wedge your phone in between your shoulder and cheek and juggle your bags. “I hope D’s awake because my boobs are ready to explode.”

Your friend laughs on the other end of the line, “oh my god, better get inside then. I’ll talk to you later about coordinating the kids for game day this week.”

“Perfect! I know I said I wasn’t going to, but I’ll probably bring D along, like it’s just easier to strap him to my chest and go,” you shrug as you push the front door open. “Fourth kid problems, just have to come along everywhere. Thank god he sleeps anywhere.”

Nykki wishes her own youngest would sleep anywhere and says good-bye, promising to text later about the plans. You slide your phone into the back pocket of your jeans and step inside the house, immediately hit with the soundtrack to The Little Mermaid. The movie is blaring, echoing around the house. You set your bags on the floor and kick off your sneakers and pad into the den, the source of the movie’s noise.

The movie’s playing on the big screen TV, Ariel singing about wanting to be where the people are, and your husband and kids are sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. You giggle, muffling the noise behind your hand, when you get a good look at Andrei and the kids. The girls are in full princess regalia - Evie as Sleeping Beauty, Alina as Belle, and Kira as Rapunzel - the costume dresses swishing around as they move. Andrei has two pairs of fairy wings strapped to his back, the elastic armholes stretched to their limits. Dimitri is in his arms, draped face down over one of Andrei’s forearms, his little cheek squished to the side against the crook of Andrei’s elbow. You can see that the three-month-old is awake, watching his crazy big sisters dance around.

“Looks like I missed quite the party,” you tease, drawing four pairs of eyes to you. Andrei grins and you can’t stop the laughter that escapes when you see the smears of kid make-up all over his face. There are butterfly clips in his hair, holding back the overgrown strands in a haphazard style.

“Mommy!” Three little voices combine into one as they rush you, hugging at your legs.

“Hi, my little loves,” you lift Kira onto your hip and kiss the two older girls on top of their heads. “Did you have fun with Daddy?”

“Daddy’s pretty,” Kira chips, smiling widely. Andrei laughs, adjusting Dimitri in his arms.

You smile a crinkle-eyed smile at Kira and agree, “Daddy’s really pretty.”

Evie pipes up, “he came to the salon today and got the works!” You smother a laugh because where did she even hear that?

“He needs to look pretty because he’s got a date tonight,” Alina chimes in and you lift an eyebrow at your husband and kids.

“Oh, a big date, huh?” You tease. “She must be someone special, for you to go to the salon for the works.”

Andrei nods, the glittery eyeshadow smeared across the top half of his face catching the light, “the most special. She’s the love of my life.”

Your stomach flutters with butterflies, still affected by this man after all these years. Just when you think you can’t love him more, you come home to this sight, Andrei with your babies surrounding him and being the best dad in the world. Tears well up in your eyes and you wonder if the postpartum hormones are still wreaking havoc. You wipe at your eyes with the side of your index finger and grin. “Well,” you pause, still emotional, “I think she’s just going to love what your stylists have done.”

“Mommy,” Evie whispers, looking at you like she feels bad that you’re so dumb, “Daddy’s date is you!”

“Oh!” You fake gasp, making Kira giggle. “Really? You guys got Daddy all fancied up for me?”

Alina cracks up, dancing around the couch cushions that have somehow ended up on the floor. “Daddy says that he’s takin’ you to dinner tonight and me an’ Evie said we needed to make him pretty ‘cause you get pretty before dinner. I did his yipstick!”

You love the way she mispronounces words and have basically forbidden anyone from correcting her. “I love his yipstick,” you tell her seriously. The hot pink smudged all around his lips is probably going to stain his face and beard, but he puckers his lips at you, making kissing noises.

“Tell Mommy that she should kiss me,” Andrei says. “I’ll share the yipstick with her.”

Alina’s mispronunciation in his accent makes you laugh and the girls tug at your hands, chanting “kiss Daddy! Kiss Daddy!” Unable to resist your kids and the prospect of an Andrei kiss, you lean down, holding Kira with one arm and cupping Andrei’s cheek with the other hand so you can kiss him chastely. One of his hands reaches out to curl around your thigh, squeezing gently. He laughs when you pull back, “hot pink is your color.”

“Mommy’s pretty now!” Kira giggles, patting your cheek. You press a smacking kiss to her cheek, blowing a little raspberry and she shrieks with laughter. There’s a hot pink smudge on her cheek now too.

Andrei looks between you and Kira and his eyes twinkle with mischief. “I think that Ev and Alya need some yipstick too,” he says and reaches out with his free hand to pull Evie in close. He kisses her cheeks and forehead, making her laugh, and getting kiss marks on her skin.

You do the same to Alina, who struggles and fights like she’s fighting for her life. Her laughter is the only sign that she’s enjoying the kiss attack. “No, Mommy! No more kisses!” She wiggles away from you, grinning her little gap-toothed smile. You love that little smile.

Dimitri babbles in Andrei’s arms and you feel bad because you had almost forgotten about him while you were teasing Andrei - that seems to be a negative of being the fourth kid. But now that he’s made his presence known, your overly-full boobs ache a little and you remember exactly what you needed to do when you came inside, before you were distracted by Andrei’s makeover. You settle Kira on the couch and she immediately slides off to run after her big sisters where they’re performing a little show in front of the TV, giving you and Andrei a minute to breathe.

“Give me my baby,” you say. Andrei hands him over and gets to his feet, shaking out the arm that Dimitri had been resting on. He struggles to get his arms out of the fairy wings, getting tangled in the two pairs for a second before finally freeing himself. He folds them carefully and sets the costume pieces on the couch. You cuddle the baby close and shift him to one arm so you can pull down the neck of your shoulder and pop one boob out of the top of your bra. Once Dimitri is comfortably latched, you head for the kitchen, needing just a little privacy because the girls are way too honest with what they see around the house. You’re not really looking for a commentary on your pancake boobs right now.

“Feeling a little more steady?” Andrei asks quietly, kissing the top of your head when you sit down on one of the counter stools. He moves around the kitchen easily, making you a turkey and cheese sandwich as you talk.

“Mhm,” you hum, watching him move. After an overwhelming few days with Andrei on the road, he’d noticed that you were short-tempered this morning and ushered you out the door, reassuring you that he would handle the kids for a few hours while you did whatever you wanted. “I needed to get out of the house without eight little hands attached to me.” You chuckle a little, but the sensation of being touched out is definitely a real thing.

“Good,” he says, licking the mustard off the butter knife when he’s done with it. You hate that habit of his - one day he’s going to slice his tongue off and then where will you both be? “You look calmer.”

You shrug a bit. “Looks like you had everything handled,” you say and it’s not even a tease, because the house has definitely looked worse when it’s just you and the kids.

Andrei sets the sandwich in front of you and you take a huge bite, starving. “I ran them around outside for a bit,” he says. “The play set got a lot of use and Alina tried to swing herself to the moon. Dimka was getting cranky out in the cold though, so we came inside, had some lunch. The girls wanted to watch a movie and Evie wanted me to paint her nails. Which turned into this,” he grins, gesturing vaguely at his face and hair with one hand.

“I really like that,” you reply, waving your free hand in front of his face in the same vague gesture. “And what’s that I heard about taking Mommy on a date, Mister Svechnikov?”

His eyes twinkle dangerously and he leans forward, palms flat on the counter, veins in his forearms bulging. The glittery makeup and hair clips really should ruin the image, but only add to his appeal. “Daddy,” his voice deepens and grows raspy, “wants to take care of Mommy and show her how much he appreciates everything she does for the family.”

Your thighs clench together instinctively, a rush of warmth filling your body. Your cheeks heat up and you chew on your lower lip. “I like the sound of that,” you whisper, casting a glance over your shoulder at the girls. They’re totally absorbed in the movie, little mouths hanging open and eyes wide and focused.

Andrei smirks at you, cradling your jaw in one hand and titling your chin up so he can lean down and kiss you. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip and your mouth falls open for him. His thumb and index finger tighten around your chin gently and you squirm in your seat, letting out a soft gasp. Dimitri stabs at your chest with those sharp baby fingernails and you yelp, pulling back. “Ow,” you grumble, squinting down at the baby. It’s not like he was getting squished in between the two of you.

“Spoilsport,” Andrei jokes, brushing the tip of his finger over the slope of the baby’s nose. Dimitri wrinkles his nose and his mouth falls off your breast with a little pop. “Whoops,” Andrei winces and you quickly shuffle around, switching him to the other boob before he can start to cry.

“Crisis averted,” you sigh at the relief of the baby eating. Your breasts already feel less achy. “So, where are we going on this date?”

Andrei helps you get your other breast back in your bra, taking an extra few seconds to fondle you, your sensitive nipples reacting to the touch of his fingers. “I thought the new Greek place downtown,” he says.

“That sounds like a fantastic plan,” you grin, already thinking of how delicious the food is going to be. A thought occurs to you. “Who’s watching the kids?”

“Marty and Nykki,” Andrei replies, a smug smile frown on your face when he sees the implication dawn on your face.

“You had this planned? Nykki didn’t say anything when I was talking to her earlier!” You laugh at the surprise. “They’re going to watch our four and their two?”

Andrei nods. “I asked them two days ago and they’re happy to chip in. Half the kids should be asleep by the time they get here anyway,” he leans in to kiss you sweetly. “I told you, solnyshka, I want to show you how much I appreciate the sacrifice you make during the season. A little planning ahead is nothing.”

“Drei,” your voice catches on emotion, “you’re the best husband. Honestly, what did I do to deserve you?”

“You’re just you,” he replies simply. “My best friend, love of my life, mother to the best kids in the world.”

“Stop it,” you cry, waving a hand at him. “I just stopped feeling like I’m going to cry at everything. Don’t be so sweet to me.”

He laughs and grabs your hand out of the air, squeezing your hand gently before kissing the tips of your fingers. “Would it help if I said I wanted to get you pregnant again soon?” His smile is cheeky and you know he’s not entirely joking.

You scoff, wiping at the last of your tears. “Yes, that does help, you lunatic neanderthal,” you deadpan.

“I’m not kidding,” he says. “I think the boys are outnumbered here, Dimka needs a brother.” He traces the tip of his index finger over the lines on your palm.

It is something you’ve wondered about, but not really discussed, whether Andrei would want to give your son a little brother. It’s not an entirely terrible thought. The Svechnikov Brothers, 2.0. Splitting time watching hockey in two different cities in another eighteen years. Following in Dad and Uncle Geno’s footsteps.

You shake your head. Nope, that has to be the baby hormones talking.

“Let’s see just how good dinner is and then we’ll talk,” you say faintly. Dimitri grumbles in your arms, done eating and ready to be burped. Andrei takes him while you fix yourself up and he knows exactly what he’s doing - displaying extreme paternal expertise and looking downright edible with the tiny baby in his arms. Damn him.

“Mommy! Alina said a bad word!”

“I did not! All I said was stupid head! That’s not a bad word! Evie’s a bad word!”

You look at Andrei with a raised eyebrow. “You want to add a fifth kid to this?”

“Why not?” He grins back, showing off his stupid dimple. “We make cute kids.”

“Alina,” you call back, shaking your head at Andrei and trying to tamp down a smile, “stupid head is not a nice word and it’s especially not nice to call your sisters stupid.”

[bunnyscar]

Mistakes

trigger warning: fear, a little creepy

“You’re going on a date?!” Leslie squealed.

Tia winced. “I-It’s not a date! Rasp said he had an extra ticket for a movie at the theater, so he asked if I wanted to go with him. That’s all. Besides, Ms. Frazzle is going with us,” Tia protested.

Her sister raised an eyebrow, obviously not convinced. “Say what you will, but this is still a momentous occasion! We’d better get you all ready for it. Come on, I’ll do your hair for you. Ooh, why don’t you wear that cute skirt you have, too!”

“There’s no reason for me to get all dressed up,” Tia protested.

Leslie clicked her tongue. “Tsk tsk! Of course there’s a reason! This is your first time going out with a boy. Trust me, I’ll make you look perfect!”

Tia sighed and gave in, knowing that her sister was unstoppable once she made up her mind to do something. Tia was the complete opposite. She hated conflict and almost always submitted to other's decisions, even if she didn't actually agree. Sometimes she wished she could be like Leslie and stand up for her own wants or needs, but she always got scared and let others have their way. It was easier and safer to give up.

Besides, other people were usually smarter than her. It was better to trust another person to make decisions than to rely on her own judgement or intuition. Or so Tia thought to herself that evening, committing her first mistake.

It was a couple of hours later that Tia made her way downstairs, her cheeks warm with embarrassment. Leslie had put her hair up in ponytails and braided them, just like their mother used to do when the girls were little. Making her feel even more like a young girl, Tia had been outfitted with a pink skirt and a blouse with puffy sleeves, making her feel like she was dressing up as a princess. She sighed, pausing to sit on the stairs for a moment, her forehead pressed against her knees.

Though she appreciated Leslie’s desire to help, she felt her sister was jumping to conclusions. This wasn’t really a date. Ms. Frazzle would be chaperoning them, and they weren’t even going to see a romantic movie; the movie was about some superhero that Rasp was interested in.

And whatever Leslie imagined, there was no romance between Tia and Rasp. She was pretty convinced he didn’t understand romance, and he treated her more like a good friend than a romantic interest. They were too young for it to be real anyway, right? Tia felt her cheeks begin to burn again as she thought about it.

The doorbell rang, making her start and almost fall down the stairs. Quickly, she made her way down and opened the front door.

Rasp came bouncing in, followed by a sour-faced Ms. Frazzle. “Hi Tia! Are ya ready?” he cried eagerly.

“Y-yeah,” she said shyly, twisting her hands together. She suddenly felt very self-conscious of her clothes and hair. Rasp, however, either ignored or did not notice her discomfort and bounced outside the house again. “Let’s go! Superman, here we come!”

Ms. Frazzle sighed. “Spider-Man, you mean,” she said reprovingly.

Tia followed them outside, pausing just before she shut the door, an uneasy feeling in her stomach calling her to stay inside. But she buried it away, convincing herself she was just nervous about doing something for the first time. She’d never gone with friends to the movie theater before, only with her sister, and even that had only been once or twice.

She hurried into Ms. Frazzle’s car without another look back, her second mistake that night.

The theater was old. Its sign was falling off, cracks could be seen running all over the walls, and barely any light shone through the entrance’s glass doors. Ominous creaks came from the roof, which looked about ready to cave in. To make matters worse, there was not a soul in sight, not another car in the parking lot, not even any lights on in the surrounding buildings, which consisted mostly of condemned apartments.

“A-are you sure this the right place?” Tia asked anxiously, shivering and drawing closer to Rasp, who was looking curiously at the theater without a hint of fear.

“Yes, yes, this is it,” Ms. Frazzle said briskly, ushering the children towards the building’s dilapidated doors. Her sour mood seemed to have lightened now that they were in front of this mess of a theater, though why she would be happy about such an ominous place, Tia had no idea. A great sense of foreboding came upon her, and she wanted to turn and run away from that awful building.

But Rasp was already inside, and Tia feared being alone in a dark parking lot more than going into a scary building with her friend. Surely it would be all right. Surely their teacher wouldn’t bring them somewhere that was actually dangerous. So Tia followed Rasp and her teacher into the building, making her third mistake that night.

Inside did not look more inviting. Dim, flickering lamps illuminated halls of red carpet and dark doors that led to the individual theaters. One hallway was blocked off with caution tape, behind which appeared to be piles of rubble and broken chairs. Directly in front of Ms. Frazzle stood a computerized check-in counter, its bright screen looking very out of place in this dingy building. There did not appear to be anyone else here, and Tia soon regretted having stepped inside, no matter how dark and lonely it was outside.

“Where are the workers?” she asked nervously.

“Maybe everyone’s on vacation? Or maybe they’re trying to set a mood?” Rasp suggested, but even he was beginning to look more thoughtful and less excited about watching a movie in an abandoned theater.

Ms. Frazzle didn’t answer either of them. She stepped over to the kiosk and punched some buttons, retrieving three tickets.

“Our theater is number 8,” she said, handing each child a ticket. “Come, let’s go.” And she began striding off down the hall.

Tia stood rooted to the spot, though. She must have been crazy to enter this building. Something was wrong about this place, and she didn’t want to go any further. No matter what Ms. Frazzle thought.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t think…maybe we shouldn’t…,” she stammered, glancing anxiously at the exit.

Ms. Frazzle turned back suddenly and grabbed Tia’s wrist, pulling her down the hall. “Come or we’ll miss it,” she said eagerly.

Tia had thought Ms. Frazzle wasn’t interested in the movie, so it had seemed strange when she had become more excited the closer they got to this creepy building. Now Tia was convinced something was wrong with Ms. Frazzle too. The teacher had a strange glint in her eyes and wore an almost maniacal grin on her face, made more creepy because of the strange shadows cast by the dim lighting.

Weakly Tia tried to resist Ms. Frazzle, but the teacher’s grip was strong as metal and so tight that her wrist began to hurt. Beginning to panic, Tia let out a yelp.

Rasp suddenly stepped in front of them. He grabbed Tia’s other wrist, and though his grip was firm, it was not painful. Carefully, he extricated Tia’s wrist from Ms. Frazzle’s hand and moved himself so that he stood in between Tia and the teacher.

“All right, all right, we’re coming,” he said. Though his words remained nonchalant, there was a slight edge to his voice and something dangerous in the look he gave Ms. Frazzle. She frowned, but merely shrugged and strode down the hall.

Rasp turned to Tia and gave her an encouraging smile. His hand felt warm on her wrist, and she began to relax.

“Let’s go, Tia. Ms. Frazzle is a bit impatient sometimes, but it’ll be all right.”

Tia nodded, though she still felt a great sense of foreboding as they walked down the dark hallway. But her fear of Ms. Frazzle and what she might do if they disobeyed overshadowed everything else at the moment, and she committed her final mistake.

The theater room was even darker than the hallway, and they tripped their way to a couple of seats in the middle of the room. The darkness seemed to press in on them as they waited for the movie to start. Tia began to breathe faster, panic growing in her chest.

She couldn’t see anything, and she only knew Rasp sat next to her because she was still holding his hand. Normally she would have been too embarrassed to hold it this long, but in the all-consuming dark, it was her only source of comfort. Please, please, let the movie start soon, she willed with all her heart.

She finally saw something. Something that made her heart stop momentarily, something that made her want to scream but at the same time froze her and rendered her noiseless. Where the movie screen should have been was a pair of glowing eyes. No, not just a pair. Dozens of eyes, glowing a sickly greenish yellow, staring hungrily right at her. Then she heard something shuffling towards her, and she finally screamed.

Previous || Next

[sunghoons-mole]

Angels & Demons (Teaser)

GENRE // college au, non-idol au, badboy!hyunjin x reader x goodboy!jeongin

WARNINGS // fluff, angst, eventual smut

it's going to be hard to focus this semester with the angel & devil on your shoulders...

~

The boy on your right caught your eye first.

He was cute, and quiet. His dark hair was perfectly placed, as if he had spent forever in the mirror this morning placing each strand on his forehead. His bag looked like it was ready to burst, most likely due to over-preparation for class. A phenomenal student, no doubt. Probably got excited to walk the back-to-school aisles when they popped up. A real goody two shoes type of boy... you always had an eye for those. Easier to take control of. Easier to corrupt.

You walked over to the empty seat on his left, dropping your bag and sitting as he began writing the assignment on the board in a notebook, even though it was the first day and class hadn't started yet. He might be good to get friendly with - for the nights you forget to do your homework. To make studying a little more exciting...

As if sensing your stare, he turned his head a little, his eyes meeting yours in the process. You put on your sweetest smile. "Hi. My name's yn."

His cheeks quickly became flushed, seemingly taken aback that a woman would introduce herself to him. He dropped his pencil to shake your hand. "Yang Jeongin. Nice to meet you."

The red never left his cheeks as he turned back to his notebook and continued copying the assignment. How adorable was he? This should be fun...

Just then, you heard someone clearing their throat to your left, and the chair screeching against the tile as it was dragged backward.

Yang Jeongin was a cutie, a real sweetheart. But the boy to your left was gorgeous. His hair was dark as well, but where Jeongin's hair was combed and cut, this guy's hair was shoulder length, wavy in all the right places and pulled into a half-ponytail in back. Where your new friend Jeongin's button-up and tennis shoes were straight and tidy and formal, this man wore a sleeveless black top and some shit-stomping boots.

Not that you were complaining, because his bare arms were making you feel things.

"This seat taken?" he said, not bothering to wait for your answer as he sat, leaning back and very clearly checking you out. He had no school bag, nothing with him except a sketchbook and a pair of earbuds that started in his ears and disappeared into his pocket. He winked at you, then pulled a pen out of the sketchbook's coil binding and began to draw.

"Hey. My name is-"

"Did I ask?" No one would have guessed he was checking you out seconds earlier, because his demeanor had already switched to careless, throwing words at you without even looking up from his sketch. You held your breath and turned to face forward, getting the message.

"Hwang Hyunjin," Jeongin whispered next to you. "Don't mind him."

Don't mind him. But oh, how you wanted to.

He was the boy out of any bad boy romance novel, and - having read plenty of those books - you knew where that would take you. But god, was it tempting as hell.

Casting a sideways glance, you tried to study Hyunjin's features without drawing his attention. The irony of how pretty he'd be as a sketch was almost comical, considering he probably had never tried to do a self portrait. Looking down at the page and seeing a rough outline of a girl, you wondered if you'd ever see the other pages in his sketchbook. Maybe he was sketching a girlfriend, and you'd never get to know anything more about this man.

Why did that make you want him more?

When high school ended 4 months ago, you wished that meant the end of school altogether. While all your friends were excited for college life, you dreaded having more school ahead of you.

But with the angel on your right shoulder and the devil on your left, maybe it would be more entertaining than you'd anticipated.

Your first semester of college was going to be... something.

[ghostofafruit]

DoctorRose Domestic Fluff Prompt: The two of them are in the library, the Doctor is reading a book aloud to Rose who is painting something.

Going with ninerose for this because dear god I fucking love them

They'd had a long day. The sort of long day that resulted in them donning their pajamas, heading to the library, and relaxing together. Sometime in their travels together, Rose had picked up art, specifically painting, though she liked drawing too. She'd never really considered herself an artistic person, but then she wanted to give it a try and the Doctor had some supplies on bored. She'd gotten pretty good pretty quick, like she had a natural talent for it. Painting was now her favourite hobby, and one of her faourite ways to relax.

Neither her or the Doctor, where all that surprised to find an easel already set up in the library when they got there. The Tardis liked Rose, and so it did it what it could to make her life just a little bit easier. She'd already grabbed her paints, and so as the Doctor looked through the shelves for a book to read, she got herself set up.

"Any requests Rose?" he asked. She grinned back at him.

"Charles Dickens, he was a nice man," she said.

"Rose, we've read all of his books already," the Doctor reminded her.

"Really? Damn, not up to re-reading them Doctor?" Rose asked.

"Considering we just finished them, no," he said. She sighed, but smiled at him none the less.

"Something romantic then?" she asked.

"As you wish," he agreed. He couldn't deny her twice in one night. If it was something romantic she desires then so be it. With a book in hand he settled back onto the sofa and started to read.

It was sort of hard to focus on reading the book aloud to Rose when she was stood in front of him in a crop top and shorts, so immersed in her painting. From what he could tell she was painting the landscape of the planet they had landed on. It appeared to be the area they had landed in too.

"You'e gone quiet," Rose murmured.

"Sorry, just admiring your painting," he half-lied. She turned to him with a grin. There were a few streaks of paint on her face, and he wasn't sure if it was that, the aforementioned grin, or her messy bun that made him think she looked adorable. She side stepped slightly so he could see it better. There were the basic blocks of colour on the bottom of the canvas and more detail the further up he looked.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"It looks brilliant," he said and she kept grinning at him. He was suddenly hit with the urge to kiss her. He didn't, of course, but he really wanted to. "Back to the story?"

"Yeah," she agreed, and she turned back to her painting.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

A Jamie-centric pre-OT3 Christmas story told in 25 short chapters.

Masterpost / AO3

14.

Another fucking draw. At least they’d actually scored in this one (Obisanya 26, Tartt 74), but what good was that when they let the other team net the ball just as many times? Jamie stared morosely at his Lynx collection, trying to muster the energy to change out of his kit. He was sweaty, his hair was a mess, and his side ached dully from a nasty tackle near the final whistle; taking a shower would be heaven. But he was too tired to move.

It wasn’t so much the game that left him exhausted, even though it sure took its physical toll. The past ten days had been a mad flurry of setting up surprise after surprise for Roy, and that had involved more gift hunting, eavesdropping and secret sneaking around than Jamie had ever thought he’d get up to. Between that and football and team Christmas bonding there’d barely been time for sleeping and eating.

And after all that, he still hadn’t called Mummy. He’d tried to, every single night, but he just. couldn’t. do. it. Apparently his efforts still weren’t up to scratch, which was baffling, to be honest: how fucking sad was Roy that not even the truly fanastic stuff Jamie had pulled for him had made him happy? Christmas was only days away, and Jamie was running out of both ideas and time. Could he get Sade to actually write Roy a song… ? Might be too much, though, even if he managed to figure out how to sort it. It’d give the bugger a heart attack or something, and that would make Keeley sad and probably not count as him doing a nice thing, even if it’d be dead unfair of the universe to blame him for Roy being a frail old man.

Perhaps he could invite Dani out for another brainstorming session; it had worked a treat last time. Jamie was pretty sure that Roy had appreciated his gifts and gestures, from what peeks he’d managed to sneak of the man. Just not appreciated them enough, apparently.

It also seemed like maybe Roy was getting a tiny bit suspicious. Yesterday, he’d kept turning his head every this way and that, and sometimes stopping dead in the street and whirling around, looking a little wild-eyed. At one point Jamie had had to dive behind a couple of large rubbish bins to avoid detection. That was a pair of perfectly ripped trousers he’d never wear again.

Fuck, but he wished that—

“Jamie, are you feeling well?”

Jamie turned to look at Sam, who had stopped by his cubby, already changed and with a concerned pinch to his kind face. He looked just slightly, slightly hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure if his question would yield an answer or something sharp and snide. Jamie made an effort to smile. “Yeah, bruv, I’m sound. Just, you know, tired of not winning.

“It is disappointing. But, thanks to you it was a draw instead of a loss. And it was a very nice goal too.”

At the praise, Jamie felt his smile grow easier, more sincere. It had been a very nice goal, hadn’t it? Good of Sam to notice. 

“Yeah, yeah, thanks mate. And yours were great too, you know?” he added, remembering what Dr. Sharon had said about how acknowledging other people’s accomplishments did not diminsh Jamie’s own.

The way Sam’s lips curled into a wide grin, mirroring Jamie’s own, and the way the sight of it made Jamie feel warm had him thinking she was onto something there.

“Thanks, Jamie,” Sam said simply, and gave him a friendly nod before walking back to his own cubby.

Still smiling, Jamie finally began to undress.

---

Once he was showered and changed and Ted had somehow talked them all into feeling determined and hopeful rather than dejected, Jamie hefted his bag and headed for the door. On his way out he passed by Keeley and Rebecca Welton, offering a smile to the former and a polite nod to the latter.

Keeley lit up when she saw him (and fuck, but that still did things to him, didn’t it?). “Hi, Jamie,” she said. “Listen, I was wondering if you could stop by my place tomorrow? I wanted to talk to you about some new tweaks to your brand, now that you’re playing again?”

Jamie perked right up at that. Talking to Keeley and discussing his brand? Fucking brilliant. Much better than spending another day trying to figure out what would possible make Roy Kent happy enough to appease the universe into letting Jamie call his mum.

He’d been working hard. He deserved a little break. Besides, hanging out with Keeley at her place might well yield some new Roy related ideas.

“Yeah, mint, yeah,” he said. Then a thought occurred to him and he frowned. “Or, actually, no, I can’t. The team’s doing a day trip Winchester Christmas Market after our recovery sessions. Sorry.”

He was, too. As much as he was growing to appreciate the lads and was looking forward to the trip, he’d rather spend some time with Keeley (and his brand was in sore need of some brushing up, ‘cause people were still being cunts and hung up about him walking out on City and Amy and stupid shit like that).

“Oh.” Keeley looked disappointed, which cheered him a little. “Tuesday?” she suggested.

“Sure, yeah. I mean, I’ve got training, but I could drop by after? Unless you wanna… “ He nodded towards her closed office door.

“No! I mean… No. There’s been… there’s an issue with the ventilation, yeah, it smells awful in there. Like dying animals and farts and baby vomit. Blegh. You don’t wanna go in there.”

Uh, yeah, no thank you, he sure as hell did not. Jamie made a face. “Yeah, all right,” he said. “I’ll just come by yours then?”

She nodded, looking relieved. “Great! Thank you, Jamie!”

“You’re all right.” He gave her another smile, Rebecca another nod (and noted that she for some reason seemed like she was struggling not to either roll her eyers or laugh, which was kind of rude, considering how hard Keeley worked for her and all, and she really should get Keeley’s office sorted), before heading out to his car.

So. Fun trip with the boys tomorrow – maybe he’d find something nice for Mummy and for Roy at the Christmas market – and then hanging out with Keeley the day after. So-so playing and his mummy issues aside, life wasn't so bad.

[tigersharktheautisticseawing]

Wierd helluva boss AU I just thoguth of (it's consuming me)

Basically, everything is the same, very canon compliant, but during the fire Blitzø lost an eye, specifically the one on the scarred side of his face

Now, he would be less effective with guns, since from what I heard once you lose an eye your depth perception goes to fuck itself and I'm pretty sure it's important for shooting and aiming guns, but if I'm wrong correct me

Now, he could go either of 3 directions:

(my favorite) He wears a sick-ass eyepatch 24/7, only ever taking it off to wash his face. Even Loona doesn't know he's disabled in the eye department. Everyone just assumed he was doing it for the vibes. Now, the outing of his disability could go two routes in this scenario • The Stolitz route Basically goes kinda like Crooked, they argue a bit, Blitzø has low self worth, Stolas says something, and Blitzø goes "because this is who I am!" or some bullshit and pulls of his eyepatch, to reveal that there's nothing behind it • The IMP route Moxxie: Umm, Sir, why are you wearing that eyepatch all the time? wouldn't it be better for fighting if you took it off? Blitzø: Oh I WISH! *pulls of eyepatch to reveal empty eye socket* Moxxie: *shooketh*

2. Protethic eye

Basically, just an eye, to put in his eyesocket to make him seem normal.

In this case, it goes like this

Blitzø: *misses target* Goddamn it, this would be easier without my eye issues!

Moxxie: Sir, may I suggest some glasses?

Blitzø: Aprecciate the thought Moxxie, but this shit won't be fixed by glasses! *pulls out prostethic eye mid-battle*

Moxxie: What the fuck-

3. Just plain ol' empty eye socket

No covering it up. Nothing. Just empty eye.

That woud make for a fun scene i ep. 7 tho, so even though it's my least fav it's still a fun idea to consider

Also, consider:

If Stolas found out about his disability, he would definetely ask for a fully functional prostethic eye along with a crystal. Like, Oz already makes limb protethics, and really advanced ones at that, so he probably has some kind of working robo-eyes for astronomical prices on the factory tape.

And, smol bonus, if Ozzie gave Stolas that eye for Blitz, he would totally have the eye do cool-ass tricks, like change colors or see super good or like be contected to a database like in Iron Man.

That would definetely make Full Moon much more interesting, and maybe help Blitz understand what's going on, since Stolas just giving him the crystal could be understood as trying to get rid of him, but ordering him a custom fucking actually working prostethic eye?*Not so much

So yeah, do whatever you want with this AU, just wanted to get this man outta my system, may edit screenshots/draw him without that eye

Anyway bye bye!

[countrymusiclover]

Ch 3 - The King’s Command

Part 4

Fire Of A Stark

@queenieala

Slamming the door to my chambers I screamed quickly tearing the dress off and throwing on a tunic and trousers. Grabbing one of the books from my table I launched it over my head feeling tears slipping out. It wasn’t bad enough that I had to hide who my real family house was. I also was about to be sent into marriage with a stranger. The Lannister’s were the richest house in the kingdom. But money and status didn’t mean anything to me. Someone knocked on the door making me wipe away tears seeing Sansa when I opened it. “Cadence, are you okay. Why are you crying?”

“Go away Sansa. You won’t understand.” I grumbled about closing the door in her face until she stopped it with her hand.

She stares at me with concern on her face. She closes the door behind her seeing that I had thrown multiple books and I had launched a kitchen knife into the wooden bed frame. “Did someone upset you? You normally don’t tear your room apart like this. Mother won’t like it.”

“My life is over Sansa. This isn’t over who stole the last cake or beat me in a sword match!” Spinning on my heels I threw my hands up starting to cry over the fate that was coming for me. She couldn’t possibly understand. She never has. “I’m forced to marry one of the Lannisters!”

She knitted her brows together, hands intertwined together in front of her. “Marriage doesn’t mean you’re life is over, sis. It means you get to have a husband and have his children-“

“And bend the knee to his every will. God, you are so naive. From the day we were born our future has been decided. All because we don’t have a cock. I’ll never be able to wield a sword, ride freely on horseback like a man or wear trousers if I so wish!”Running my fingers through my hair I yanked the knife out of the wood drawing it behind my head and launched it straight back into the wood even harder than before.

She jumped back slightly frightened seeing anger in my eyes. I usually had a temper about things but she had never seen me this angry. Then again none of the Stark children know my secret. It was easier if only very few knew the truth. “Do you wish me to get mother and father or do you wish to keep throwing that knife?”

“Just leave, Sansa. I want to be alone.” I mumbled throwing the knife cursing under my breath. “Seven hells!” By that point she had left so I snatched my brown cloak from the bed sneaking through the castle and to the stables. Saddling my horse I bolted out into the gods woods feeling the cold wind run through my hair. Reaching the family tree I dismount my horse sitting underneath it just letting the cold surround me.

About an hour later I heard another horse riding up to me so I lifted my head from my knee's sniffing where I saw father climbing down from his horse. “Sansa told me you were throwing knives like a mad man. Care to tell me what happened honey. Was it one of the royals here?”

“No…we’ll he isn’t here.” I wiped under my nose laying my head on his shoulder.

“Who is it then?” Father asked not following me.

Shifting my weight so I was facing him head on he scooted over looking down at me. He had the look that he had whenever any of his children got hurt. The comforting look of a father. “Tywin Lannister…I heard you and mother talking with the king a few hours ago. Saying that I am betrothed to marry one of his sons. I thought you said I wouldn’t marry until you found someone who is worthy of me?”

“Oh sweetheart you don’t have to worry. No deal has been set in stone. We are supposed to head to Kings Landing for me to become Hand of the King. But you won’t be married off not yet. I promise you little dragon.” He tucks hair behind my ear using the nickname that was specifically for me.

Wrapping my arms around him he hugs me gently into his chest. Then we got to our feet climbing back on our horses. “I love you, Ned - uh dad.”

He kisses my head, sending me up to my room. “I love you too.”

The next morning was pretty hush considering the king had asked my father to be his hand. Plus Sansa was fusing over her future wedding to the prince. I didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Pulling the hood of my cloak down I promised Arya that we would play with the swords near where the servants washed clothes. “So what is our first lesson?” The young girl asked me, almost bouncing off the walls.

“The first lesson is which one do you want?” Holding out two toy swords out to her she picked the smaller one. Getting in a fighting stance I raised my sword nodding towards her. “You go first.”

She ran forward crying but I raised my sword hitting hers almost out of her hands. Pushing her back I remembered a tip Robb had given me when we first trained together. “Don’t make a sound before you attack. That way your opponent doesn’t know you’re coming.”

I raised my sword holding it both in my hands then rushing forward to her but she raised hers hitting our swords together. Arya and I went back and forth like this for a few times until I spun my back to her and she accidentally tripped me with her weapon. She then pointed the tip to my throat, smiling bright. “Impressive young Stark girl. Did you teach her that?”

Wiping my head around I recognized the voice that broke through the gods' wood. Holding myself up on my elbows with my hair falling in front of my eyes. Honestly a tousled mess of curls at this moment. “Jaime, what in the realm are you doing out here. Nobody knows about this place except us?”

“I followed the tracks in the snow. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. Here let me help you.” He walked up to us wearing a tan tunic and trousers. Sword hanging from the holder on his hip. With his right hand extending down to me.

Eyeing his hand I grabbed his wrist allowing him to pull me up. But I scream tripping over my own sword at my feet falling into his chest. Jaime instantly secured his arms around my small waist holding me close to his chest. “Easy now. I’ve got you…”

“Uh thanks,” I croaked out, moving my eyes up to him slowly. I could feel his breath on my face and he was shivering a little under my touch obviously not built for the winters.

Jaime moved his head closer to whisper in my ear. “If we were alone I could have given you a private lesson. I can assure you, you wouldn’t regret it.” Bending my head down my cheeks turned as red as a tomato at his words not expecting him to say something here.

“Are you two going to kiss? Ewww!” Arya made a look of disgust causing me to finally come to my senses and push myself away from the lion.

Tucking hair behind my ear Jaime just smirked making me blush even redder. Kicking myself mentally in the head I told myself since I was nine that I wouldn’t fall for someone just by their looks. There should be more to a person than just that. “Cadence, Arya. There you are. Something’s happened.” I saw Jon Snow rushing our direction clearly pausing when he saw Jaime with us. “Ser Jaime…”

“Jon, hey you said there’s news. What about?” Snapping my fingers I pull him back to focus on me.

He shakes his head causing his black curls to shuffle around on his head. He was taken back, seeing us with a knight. “Bran…he fell from..the tower. And….the…the king…he wants to see all of us.”

“What could he want. Can’t we finish our lesson first?” Arya begged me with her hands clinging onto my tunic. I hated to tell the girl no but I took her hand in mine and the four of us headed back to the castle.

Entering one of the main rooms in the castle I saw the king and queen sitting on my father’s throne. My mother is standing beside Sansa and my father. Breaking through the crowd I whispered in his ear, completely confused. “Father, what is happening?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged his shoulders, glancing over his shoulder to me.

Tonight was supposed to be our last night in Winterfell. Before my sisters and I followed our father to the city. So if the king of the seven kingdoms was requesting an audience it probably wasn’t good. Turning my head back towards the king, Jaime was now standing behind leaning against the wall. With his hand rested on his sword. “I thought it was best to be brought into the room that Lord Eddard Stark has accepted to become the Hand of the King. But that is not the only announcement I have. Tywin Lannister has requested that I renounce Ser Jaime of his kingsguard vows and I accepted-“

“Seven hells, you lied to me!” Shouting at my father with tears in my eyes I cut the king off not caring if it upset his grace.

The queen fought back as well, clearly not liking the sound of it for some reason to which I didn’t understand why yet. “You can’t do that. He took a vow and he can’t break it!”

“Be quiet, woman. I am the king and I have the power to do so.” Robert Baraethon raised his tone to his wife rising to his feet. Jaime wouldn’t or maybe couldn't look my direction I couldn’t exactly tell for sure. “Cadence Stark and Jaime Lannister will be wed in a few short days.”

Clutching the hand of the sword on my hip I felt tears slipping down my cheeks before I turned on my heels breaking for the doors hearing my father’s voice calling out for me. “Cadence!”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[jessisnotnormalq]

Chapter 4: Trust

<-Chapter 3

Masterlist

Jada was happy to spend the rest of the day poring over piles and piles of dusty old books that Gaius had managed to retrieve from Geoffrey. Gaius himself accompanied her from time to time in between visiting his patients, searching through the texts that were written in some old and arcane language that Jada had no hope of understanding. Merlin was out for most of the day working for Arthur, but he finally returned in the late afternoon.

            “Find anything yet?” he asked, drawing both Jada and Gaius out of their focused trances as he stepped through the door.

            “Nothing yet,” Jada replied, looking across at Gaius.

            “I’m afraid that travelling through time is a phenomenon that has rarely even been speculated about before, let alone actually studied and documented,” the physician sighed, closing his book in defeat and turning his attention to Jada. “Are you sure there are no more details that you can give us?”

            Jada shook her head. “No, sorry. I’ve told you everything I remember.”

            She wished Morgo hadn’t knocked her out; things would have been so much easier if she could have seen how he’d got her there.

            “No matter,” Gaius tried for a reassuring smile. “I’m sure something will come up eventually.”

            “For now,” Merlin began, calling their attention to him, “We should probably start walking to Gwen’s. She’ll have finished work by now, and we’ll want to be back by nightfall.”

            Jada nodded, rising from her seat and moving to stand by his side. “All right, then. Ready when you are.”

            The two of them headed out of the castle and into the evening together, with Merlin leading the way through the streets of Camelot. Jada couldn’t help but keep looking back over her shoulder at the castle as they walked, almost afraid it might disappear if they got too far away. Strange, she thought. She hadn’t expected to feel any sort of attachment to the place.

            Merlin was giving her odd looks each time she turned, and finally caught her eye long enough to send her a quizzical expression.

            “Sorry,” she laughed. “I just don’t think I’ll ever get used to this place. I mean, look at it!”

            She gestured dramatically back at the castle, all lit up with candles in the windows and braziers blazing in the courtyard.

            Merlin chuckled, shaking his head at her, but he turned to look back at the castle too. She thought she saw a hint of the same wonder she felt in his face, though it had been dimmed over time. She wondered if she’d be here long enough for her own amazement to fade so.

            They reached Gwen’s house in good time, and Merlin stepped forward to give a light knock on the door. It was answered by a man a few decades older than the two of them, who introduced himself as Tom, Gwen’s father, and invited them in with a friendly smile.

            They found Gwen setting up her supplies neatly on the table, and she greeted them just as warmly as her father had, getting to work almost immediately.

            “So do you know what type of dress you’ll be wanting?” Gwen asked Jada, measuring her outstretched arms.

            “Um, I don’t mind, really,” Jada replied. “Whatever’s easiest for you. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

            “Oh, it’s no problem. Really,” Gwen insisted. “We want to make you something you’ll look beautiful in, don’t we?” She suddenly blanched, her face turning red. “Not that you don’t look pretty now, I just meant-”

            Despite Gwen’s nerves, Jada was laughing. “It’s all right, I know what you meant. Although really, if you tilt your head just right and squint at me a little, I look pretty much like a boy.”

            “You don’t,” Gwen replied, but it had the effect Jada had intended, and Gwen couldn’t keep the smile off her face for long.

            Their gazes turned to Merlin then, who was squinting at her with his arms folded, his head tilted to one side.

            “Merlin!” Gwen scolded, mortified.

            Jada couldn’t help the giggle that burst from her then.

            “You see it, right?” she said to Merlin, but turned to Gwen before he could answer. “At least you’ll make me look like a pretty boy.”

            Gwen tried to hide her smile again as she crouched down to measure Jada’s legs. “I’ll do my best.”

            “So when do you think you’ll have this done by?” Not that she wanted to rush Gwen, it was just that Ubi’s clothes were already beginning to smell a little weird.

            “Maybe a few days,” Gwen replied, stepping back and jotting some numbers down. “You’ll have to come here to check the fittings, but after that they’re all yours.”

            “Great,” Jada grinned. “Thanks, Gwen.”

            “My pleasure. And it looks like we’re just about done.”

            Merlin pushed himself off the table where he’d been leaning, nodding to Jada before turning back to Gwen. “Thanks, Gwen. We really appreciate it.”

            “It’s no problem at all. I’m just glad I could help. I’ll let you know when everything’s finished.”

            Both Merlin and Jada nodded, heading towards the door as Gwen followed them. Tom bid them farewell as they passed, and they turned back to wave as they stepped out into the cool evening.

            “Oh, Jada?” Gwen called from the doorway.

            “Yeah?” Jada stopped, turning.

            Gwen smiled sweetly, her brown eyes warm. “Welcome to Camelot.”

            Jada thanked her, and Merlin gave one final wave before they headed off, back to the castle.

            By the time they returned to Gaius, night was falling. Gaius had made them dinner, even having the kindness to prepare a portion for Jada, and they sat around the table to eat it gladly.

            “It’s all right if Jada sleeps here for now, isn’t it, Gaius?” Merlin asked over his bowl.

            Gaius pondered the question for only a moment before answering. “I don’t see why not, just as long as it���s not my bed you’re intending to give away.”

            “No, no,” Merlin laughed. “I said she could have my bed.”

            “We agreed to take it in shifts,” Jada interjected, still feeling like she was taking advantage of poor Merlin.

            “All right, then. Are you going up now?” Gaius asked as Merlin pushed his empty bowl away.

            Jada thought it seemed pretty early to go to bed, but she supposed that there wasn’t much you could do without electricity after dark. Merlin looked to her for confirmation, before nodding.

            “Well, goodnight to you both, then,” Gaius said, rising from his seat and beginning to collect all the dishes together.

            Jada followed Merlin up the stairs to his room, but she had only just reached the doorway when he turned back to her nervously. “I… um… just give me one minute.”

            Though bewildered, she nodded, and in the next instant he was gone, shutting the door between them. She heard what sounded like wardrobes opening and closing, drawers sliding themselves shut, and his footsteps hurrying back and forth, and then he was back, looking slightly flustered but holding the door open wide for her now with a smile.

            “Sorry.” He gestured for her to enter. “You can come in now.”

            “Thanks,” Jada laughed, stepping inside and looking around the place.

            It wasn’t a particularly flashy room by any stretch of the imagination, but it was sort of… cute, in its own way. Quaint, almost. There was a simple bed in the middle of the room with a few thin blankets thrown across it; a desk in the corner with some odds and ends on; a plain bedside table; and a small wardrobe still with the end of a sleeve sticking out between the doors. Merlin hastily stuffed it back inside on his way past.

            “Sorry about the boxes,” he said. “They’ve been there since before I moved in.”

            She noticed now the pile of crates stacked precariously in the corner. Maybe Gaius had used this as some sort of storage before Merlin arrived.

            “The bed’s all yours tonight,” he said, “So make yourself comfortable.”

            Jada moved to sit on the bed, which was honestly a little harder than she would have liked, but when she looked back over to Merlin spreading a blanket out on the wooden floor she felt a little guilty.

            “Are you sure you don’t mind me sleeping here?” she asked.

            He looked up at her with a kind smile. “It’s fine, really. I’ll let you sleep here on the floor, tomorrow.”

            “Thank you, Merlin,” she said sincerely. “For everything you’ve done. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

            “It’s nothing, really.”

            He laughed shyly, and Jada thought she could see a hint of pink in his cheeks. Then he stood again, eyes more serious. “I’ve just got to run out and take care of one last thing. Will you be all right here?”

            “I think I can manage by myself for a little while,” she laughed. “Do you know how long you’ll be?”

            He shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t bother waiting up for me. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

            Her smile grew as she nodded. “Sure, see you in the morning. Night, Merlin.”

            She hadn’t meant to stay awake as long as she did. In truth, she hadn’t meant to stay awake long at all. She’d lain down, a little miserable at having no other clothes to change into to escape Ubi’s rotten rags, and then all of a sudden she was thinking about how much she missed her home. She wanted clean pyjamas, central heating, and toothpaste. She wanted a hot shower, and Jim’s cooking, and Izzy’s hugs. She wanted Emily; she wanted to hold her little body in her arms and never have to let go again. She wanted to hear her babble in the morning, or even just to hear her soft breathing in the room with her as she fell asleep.

            Instead, all she got was silence.

            She didn’t realise she’d been crying until she heard footsteps on the stairs, and then she did her best to silence her already quiet gasps. She heard Merlin open the door, and was glad her back was to him as he crept across the room towards his makeshift bed.

            He stopped before he reached it, however, his quiet footfalls hesitating. “Jada?”

            She would have pretended to be asleep, would have ignored him in the hope that he’d just let her be, but there was something off about his voice. His question had been just a murmur, but his voice had seemed harder somehow, more tense, and it made her turn to look at him without another thought.

            They both studied each other for a quiet second, both asking “What’s wrong?” in almost the same instant, but only Jada gave a watery laugh at the mirroring. Merlin looked tense, guarded even, his eyes shifting uneasily.

            “You’re crying,” he pointed out, nodding towards her tear-stained face.

            “It’s nothing.” She tried for a smile. “I’m just a bit homesick.”

            He nodded, arms remaining stiffly at his sides, so Jada nodded towards him. “What about you? Has something happened?”

            “No,” he replied. “I’m fine. Goodnight.”

            Without a pause, he got down under his blanket, turning his back to her.

            Jada watched him for a moment before letting out a sigh. She wondered about the boy inside the walls, hidden underneath all the secrets.

            “It must get lonely.”

            She hadn’t exactly meant to speak her thoughts out loud, but she thought she saw the slightest turn of Merlin’s head.

            “Sorry. I didn’t mean it as, like, an accusation or anything. It’s just, well…” She stuttered, but had no clue what to say to ease the situation. “I guess I just thought I might know the feeling. Sorry.”

            She lay back down, hardly expecting any more to come of it than perhaps a very awkward morning tomorrow, but after a few minutes Merlin spoke again in a quiet voice.

            “Tell me about your home.”

            Jada gave a soft smile, though he couldn’t see it. “What do you want to know?”

            “I don’t know. What’s it like?”

            “It’s…” she hesitated, looking for a place to start. “It’s bigger than we can afford, for one thing." She laughed fondly, shaking her head. “It’s got three bedrooms, and Emily has to share with me because there’s no room for her anywhere else.”

            “Emily?”

            Her smile was sadder now. “My daughter.”

            “Oh. How old is she?”

            “She just turned one last week. Although you’re supposed to use, like, a ‘corrected’ age because she was born four months premature, and it takes them a while to catch up. So, for that she’s almost nine months.”

            There was silence for a little while. Then, “How old are you?”

            “Twenty-one.”

            “Oh.”

            More silence. She was beginning to think he’d fallen asleep, when he said, “I’m sorry you’re stuck here.”

            Jada tried to ignore the pang of despair in her chest. “It’s not like it’s your fault. In fact, without your help I’d probably be sleeping somewhere on the streets right about now.”

            “Mhm.” It was a short sound, certainly not bashful like he had been earlier, and it made her wonder if she was getting closer to whatever had caused him to act like this.

            “Y’know, if you wanted to talk about anything, I wouldn’t mind,” she tried. “In fact, I’d be happy to help. And it’s not like I have anybody I could tell, is it?”

            “How do I know that?” This time his voice was so quiet she wasn’t sure he’d intended to say it out loud, let alone have her hear it. He immediately fell silent again, as if bracing for her response.

            Was that the crux of it, then? He didn’t trust her? Did he think she was some sort of spy? But who would she even be working for?

            “Merlin?” she said softly, and after a moment he turned just enough to look at her. “Who would I tell?”

            His eyes darted away, though his jaw remained locked and his features hard.

            Jada sat up, leaning forward subconsciously as a different realisation slowly dawned. “Wait a minute; people don’t normally assume someone is spying on them unless they have someone they think might send a spy. Who would want to spy on you?”

            It couldn’t have been Uther, surely; if the King suspected Merlin of any crimes he would have been arrested the second he’d shown her his magic. At least, if she really had been a spy. So that meant that there was someone else, someone that wanted to hurt Merlin somehow for something she didn’t understand.

            Merlin had sat up himself in response to her sudden movement, looking almost as though he were bracing for an attack. “No-one. It doesn’t matter. Just leave it, okay?”

            Jada slowed, trying to make herself seem as unthreatening as possible. She held her hands up in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture, but she couldn’t just leave the issue there.

            “Somebody wants to hurt you.” She made her voice soft again, though it wasn’t quite a question or a statement. This realisation made her feel… sad. Sad that he had to live life constantly on guard; sad that he had to question every passing person’s motives; sad that he felt he had to shut himself off from the world or get himself hurt. Sad, and angry. Because he was just a kid—eighteen!—and somebody wanted to hurt him.

            “Who?” Her voice had a sharper edge to it than she had intended, and she saw surprise pass over Merlin’s face, then confusion. She softened. “You think I want to hurt you?”

            He didn’t reply, so she flicked her feet out from under the blanket and crossed the room to sit down by his feet. “I don’t want to hurt you, Merlin. Believe me, it’s the last thing I want.”

            He studied her face for a while, his own still painted with confusion. “Then, I don’t understand,” he said at length. “What do you want?”

            She almost wanted to cry again, then. This poor boy, she thought to herself. “I want to go home. I guess that’s my primary objective.” She gave a short laugh. “And, right in this moment, I’d like to find out whoever it is that wants to hurt you and go ask them who the fuck they think they are. And maybe kick their ass.”

            He actually laughed then, and the sound made Jada feel less heavy. “That could be interesting.” His face fell. “No, actually, that would be incredibly dangerous.”

            Jada snorted. “Oh, please. I’ll have you know I did a whole three months of taekwondo.”

            “You know I have no idea what that is, right?”

            “Self-defence. Basically fighting.”

            “Right. Either way, it wouldn’t do much good, not against Nim-” He caught himself at the last second, eyeing Jada nervously. “Uh, I mean-”

            “Nim?” Jada repeated. She skimmed back through the legends, but she couldn’t think of any notable character called Nim. There was Madam Mim, from The Sword in the Stone…

            Merlin sighed, finally defeated. “Nimueh.”

            Nimueh. She knew that name. But that didn’t make any sense.

            “I don’t understand, I thought you and Nimueh were supposed to be… you know…” She made a few vague motions, but at Merlin’s clueless expression, she gave up. “All romantic, and stuff.”

            The surprise hit him first, quickly followed by disgust. “What? No! She tried to kill me!”

            Okay, Jada thought, Nimueh=bad. It seemed there really wasn’t much the legends had gotten right. Then her brain caught up properly with what Merlin had said. “Wait, she tried to kill you? When?”

            Another sigh of defeat. “A few days ago. She poisoned me.”

            “What? Why?”

            After studying her for a moment, Merlin at last gave up his tale. He told her about the plague that had swept through Camelot, about how Gaius had discovered that it stemmed from the water, and how they’d found the afanc—some monstrous, magical creature—in the city’s well. He told her how Gwen had been blamed for conjuring the plague after her father miraculously recovered from it, and even admitted that he had been the one responsible for curing Tom. He told her how he, Arthur, and Morgana had headed down and defeated the afanc, and how Uther had freed Gwen once Gaius had discovered Nimueh’s hand behind the pestilence.

            His tale then turned to Nimueh’s revenge. Somehow, she’d known exactly who had defeated her afanc, and had managed to sneak a poison goblet into a feast. Merlin had ended up drinking the poisoned wine instead of Arthur, but it was Arthur who had ridden out against his father’s orders to find the antidote. He’d found Nimueh on his journey, and she’d tricked and almost killed Arthur, too, but the Prince had prevailed, and Merlin had recovered once the antidote had been administered.

            “So you’ve been waiting for her to try again since then?” Jada guessed.

            It was late now that Merlin had finished explaining, and truthfully her butt was going numb from sitting for so long on the floor, but she didn’t dare move for fear of losing this new openness again.

            Merlin nodded.

            “And you thought that that was what I was going to do? Kill you for her?”

            He shrugged, not meeting her gaze.

            “Can I ask why you thought I was working for her?”

            “I thought…” He shifted, leaning forward a little. “I started to think that maybe the whole time-travelling thing was a lie. Nimueh seems to have some knowledge of the future, so that could have explained your ability to talk about that. Then, you mentioned a ritual, though you’ve never said what it is or what it’s for. That sounds like something from the Old Religion, and Nimueh’s a High Priestess. Then…”

            He sighed again. “I don’t know. I just got this feeling that I shouldn’t trust you. But it’s been wrong before…”

            “What do you think now?”

            She turned her face up to him, keeping her expression open. His gaze searched hers, and in that instant she felt as though he was looking right through her exterior; down, down into the very core of her. It wasn’t exactly an unpleasant feeling, she noticed, it was just… intense.

            “I want to trust you,” he admitted, frowning a little.

            Jada felt the corner of her mouth quirk upwards. “What, don’t you know any truth spells?”

            She’d meant it as a joke, but she saw Merlin’s face change as he considered it. “I don’t- I don’t even know if there are any…”

            Suddenly, he hopped to his feet, hurrying over to stand beside his bed. “Um, could you… not look for a minute?”

            Jada didn’t have a clue what was going on, but in an effort to seem trustworthy, she shut her eyes and covered them with her hands. She heard some sort of wooden creak, something being set down on the floor, and some shuffling.

            “Okay, you can open your eyes, now.” He was sat on the bed, a thick, arcane-looking book in his lap, and was already flicking through the pages.

            Jada moved to sit beside him. “You’re going to tell me that’s a magic book now, aren’t you?”

            He sent her a crooked grin, though hardly turned his attention from the pages before him. They looked to Jada completely unreadable at first, written in an ancient language as they were, but as she watched the flipping pages more closely she thought it seemed oddly familiar. It took her a few minutes to place it, but finally she recalled studying Beowulf in her English Literature class, and concluded that it was probably Old English. Maybe it wasn’t so ancient after all—for Merlin’s time, anyway.

            He was eyeing her curiously now, in between page turnings. “If I found a truth spell, would you really let me use it on you?”

            Jada shrugged. “I don’t see why not. As long as you promise not to ask me anything embarrassing.”

            He laughed. “Like what?”

            Jada laughed, too. “I don’t know. I’m not giving you any ideas, though.”

            They were silent again for a few minutes, save for the sound of the pages turning. Then, it was Jada who broke it. “You’re very interesting, do you know that?”

            He gave her a sideways glance, though she thought he seemed a little flustered again. “I’m really not.”

            “I think you are. You’re the most interesting person I’ve met here, anyway. Although, come to think of it, I’ve only met, like, six people.”

            She hoped that Merlin’s laughter would become a more regular sound from now on. Jada vowed then that if she really had to stick around, she was going to do everything she could to make this mood more common than his earlier one. Nobody should have to feel so alone, and she was going to do her very best to prove herself trustworthy so that he didn’t have to be.

Chapter 5 ->

[wespersdaughter]

surface pressure - bridgerton sister reader

masterlist

Summary: Being the oldest Bridgerton sister is much harder than anyone expects, but somehow your family always knows how to make it better.

Warnings: This is pretty angsty, a lot of it is just me trying to get of some sadness. A lot of it involves babies, I’ve got a bit of baby fever right now.

A/N: I reread this fic from @anthonysharmaa and remembered how much I love writing little vignettes with each sibling. I imagine this version of Y/N was born 1788 so between Benedict and Colin, and the vignettes are in chronological order. Final note, I know ‘You Are My Sunshine’ is not from the correct time period but listen, they played an orchestral version of Diamonds by Rihanna in an episode of Season 2, let me have this.

VIOLET

1813 is already proving to be a difficult year for you as the Countess Hampton. January, your third child, Matthew, was born just days after your own birthday. February, you were made a widow at just 25, losing your husband to a hunting accident. March, you are back in London, supporting your sister Daphne’s debut.

Mostly you don’t want to be lonely in your big country house, your children too young to comprehend your circumstances and your staff too busy working to support you emotionally.

You had not loved your husband as your mother loved your father, but Edward was kind and affectionate. He was a good father to your children, he cared for you all deeply. And he set you up wonderfully after his death.

He had even left you a kind letter, detailing his fondness of you and your maternal affection for your children. He apologised for not being a better husband, he was always like that. Too modest for his own good. Considering the circumstances of your marriage, you were actually grateful to have found a man like him.

When you arrive at Bridgerton House, dressed in the customary mourning attire, you’re pleasantly surprised when only your mother greets you in the foyer.

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you and the children.” She kisses your cheeks, squeezing Elizabeth and Ophelia tight as they hug her legs.

“Thank you, mama.” You smile, exhausted beyond belief. Who knew having three children under four, losing your husband and becoming the head of your household in the matter of a month could be so tiring?

You press a soft kiss to your son’s head, before handing him over to your mother. She coos, missing the days when she had her own babies to cuddle.

“Would you like to see your aunts and uncles, darlings?” You crouch down to brush your daughters’ hair from their shoulders.

They nod, clearly excited to see their family. The angels that they are, they keep their ecstatic expressions from their faces, compassionate to your own feelings despite their age.

“Go on then! I’m sure Uncle Greg will have some sweets for you.” You watch your little girls run to the drawing room, muffled greetings and cheers erupt when they burst through the door.

You turn back to your mama, tears building up. She smiles sympathetically, rocking Matthew with the experience only a mother of nine could have. “It gets easier, dearest. They will help.” She returns your son safely to your arms as you sniffle.

“I… I wish he knew.”

“Knew what dearest?”

“He did the best he could.”

“I’m certain he knew, he was simply too reserved to truly speak his mind.”

You huff a soft laugh, thankful for your mama’s attempts at comfort. She presses a handkerchief under your eyes, cleaning your face of tears with the utmost care.

“Let’s introduce Matthew to the rest of his family, shall we?”

HYACINTH

In the months following your father’s death, you had taken over some of your mother’s duties, particularly when it came to taking care of your younger siblings. You knew it would be like this, you’d never seen a love like your parents. It wasn’t something your mama could just get over.

You mostly had to entertain the little ones, Anthony was busy trying to take over as Viscount and Benedict was focused on keeping your mother fed and hydrated.

When you weren’t playing with C through G outside, you were in the nursery, soothing Hyacinth or supporting your mama during feeding.

Sometimes you would fall asleep in the rocking chair near the bassinet, age only making the seat more comfortable. Your mother received it as a gift when she was pregnant with Anthony, so it was at least 20 years old.

It had been a long day of entertaining your younger siblings, Greg had discovered how amusing it was to pull his sisters’ hair. They would chase him around the garden and Colin would sometimes help him get away. This meant that as soon as you could, you went to your baby sister’s room for some peace and quiet. She was a remarkably unfussy child, a trait you would soon wish she kept as she grew.

As soon as you entered, she began to coo, almost enticing you to pick her up.

“Hello, darling girl.” You supported her head like you’d learned when Colin was born.

She kicked her legs and wriggled her arms, a little confused as to why it was you picking her up so late in the afternoon. “I know, I know. Mama’s not having a good day sweetheart.”

You sat in the rocking chair, shifting your grip so Hyacinth can rest comfortably on your chest and shoulder. You rocked back and forth, humming a song softly and rubbing her back.

When she started to get a little wriggly again, you began to sing.

‘You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.’

The vibrations from your chest sent her straight back to sleep, and the soothing motion of rocking back and forth in the chair soon sent you off too.

Benedict found you a few minutes after you drifted off, still holding Hyacinth protectively. He tried to pick her up, needing to take her to your mother for a feeding. Your grip only grew tighter. Not restrictive, even in your sleep you could never hurt her. Just protective, motherly.

ANTHONY

Your debut into society came three short years after your father died. You were tempted to delay it further, but you were a romantic at heart. Your mama married your father when she was the same age as you were, having Anthony when she was 18.

It went off without a hitch, you weren’t the diamond of the season, but the queen was still impressed by you. The trouble started when you came home from your presentation. Anthony had been quiet all day, at first you thought it was because he was nervous. You were the first of his sisters to debut, you had previously thought your parents would handle it entirely. Then came the recognition that he could be missing your father. You certainly did.

When your mama was helping you get ready, pinning the feathers in your hair, it took all emotional strength you had not to break down in tears. She was so immensely proud of you. But you knew your father wouldn’t be pacing nervously downstairs eager to see his darling girl.

But Anthony was still quiet in the carriage home. Benedict had tried to speak to him, so had your mother, so had you. He simply gave no response.

When you arrived at Bridgerton House, he helped you from the carriage and asked to see you in the study. You simply nodded, concerned about your brother as he stomped away. You kissed your mother softly on her cheek and shooing the little ones inside with Ben.

As soon as you closed the door, your brother released all the tension he’d built up. “What was that?”

You sat down in a chair heavily, incredibly confused by his outburst, “What do you mean?”

“The queen expresses her condolences for our father’s loss, and you simper. She asks how you are feeling, and you smile!” He began to mock your voice, “‘I thank your majesty kindly, and I miss our father dearly.’ Have you been rehearsing that?”

Your face dropped in shock, “I don’t think I know what you mean.”

“Oh please, how much could you really miss him if you had to rehearse speaking about him in front of the queen?” He looked regretful as soon as he said it.

You swallowed hard, steeling your features. You were in no mood for this nonsense, “I understand that this has been a stressful day for you Anthony, but there is no need for this cruelty.”

“Cruel is it? Well let’s discuss your cruelty, forcing our mama to present you in front of the ton and the queen so soon after father died.”

“This isn’t about our parents Anthony, this is about your inability to let me go. To face the fact that I am a grown woman. Now you’re using any reasoning possible to excuse you from any responsibility, for hurting me deeply.”

He had a white-knuckle grip on his chair, clearly your words were having an effect on him. But being a very stubborn man, he was lashing out instead of reaching out. “Perhaps you simply did not feel his loss as I did.”

You stood up quickly, knocking your seat over in your haste. Tears built in your eyes and your voice picked up in speed and volume, “How dare you?! You forget Anthony, but I was there. I put the little ones to bed, I took care of Benedict, I was first in the birthing room with Mama.” You sniffed loudly, voice now breaking through sobs. “Sometimes I hear her screams in my mind, and I think of how close we were to losing her. I know how much was placed on your shoulders that day and I have never pretended that it did not change you. But do not sit there and accuse me of not feeling our loss.”

You marched to the door and yanked it open. You turned back, “he was my father too”, then slammed it shut.

ELOISE

Even at 11 years old, Eloise was incredibly outspoken and precocious. Sometimes to the point of driving you insane.

You had arrived home from the final event of the social season, utterly worn out by the months of interacting with your fellow debutantes, gossiping mamas and generally uninteresting men.

When you didn’t finish the season with a husband, Eloise seemed to take it as a political statement. You did not need a man to be happy in her mind, and this was another year where she could keep you all to herself.

As soon as you stepped in the door, she had attached herself to your waist like a koala, nattering about all the fun you’d get up to now the season was over.

You rested a hand gently on the top of her head, “El, I love you very much but I am feeling rather tired and I would like to go to bed please.”

“No I want to hear about all the stupid men you’re not marrying.”

“Eloise!” Your mother chastised her, trying to pull her away so the others could greet you.

You shook your head, “Mama she’s not going to stop. Let me take her to her room so she can tire herself out.”

You ignored Eloise’s outraged cry, sending the little ones and your brothers off with a hearty goodnight. You kissed your mama on the cheek and took El’s hand, leading her upstairs.

She practically dragged you around, almost slamming her door shut and flopping down on her bed.

“Now that we have some privacy, you can speak freely about your season and how awful it was.” You ignored her, rather going through the motions of getting her settled. “Oh come on, Y/N! You can’t tell me you enjoyed it.”

“I actually did enjoy myself El.”

She bolted upright, positively scandalised. “You cannot be serious.”

“I did, I love these events, I love being social and dancing.”

“So you enjoyed being presented like livestock to potential buyers?”

“Enough, Eloise!” All you wanted was to tuck her in and go to bed and she was making it far too difficult. “I don’t expect you to fully understand what’s happening or why I’m doing what I’m doing. But I want to get married and have children.” You pulled the covers up to her chin, focusing on her confused, slightly distressed expression. “El, just because my dreams are different than yours, it doesn’t make them any less important.”

You kissed her forehead and wished her a good night, finally making your way to bed.

BENEDICT

During your first season, you met another debutante, Miss Jane Bennet. She was the oldest of five daughters, so she quickly became your good friend. This meant you frequently visited her for tea, and often your mamas would join you, eager to gossip to each other.

Now both in your second season, you would spend tea time talking about suitors more seriously, talking through the benefits and detriments of each potential match.

Your mama, bless her heart, was more concerned with your emotional wellbeing and hoping you would find a love match, that she neglected to explain how important your marriage was. How much who you married mattered.

Jane’s mama loved to remind you both of the precarious positions you were in as the eldest sisters. You had to marry a wealthy and high-status man so your sisters could marry for love. It completely changed your standards for who you were looking for. Even if it meant your mama was a little disappointed.

Jane found her match in Lord Charles Bingley early during your second season. You hadn’t had such luck yet. Despite your numerous callers, none seemed to fit even your lowered standards.

Then came Lord Hampton, freshly titled as an Earl following the passing of his father.

Edward was handsome, wealthy and incredibly kind to you. He understood your position and the intense love you held for your siblings.

You were frank with each other: he explained that he needed a son to maintain his ancestral seat (a centuries-old title), and you wanted to at least be friends with your husband. You went through the motions, courting as you should, but without the expectations that you would fall in love. Then he proposed as soon as it was appropriate. It was after dinner, where you announced your engagement to your family, that Benedict pulled you aside.

He led you into a secluded corridor, away from prying eyes.

“Are you certain you want to do this?” He shared the same romanticism you held, being two of three siblings who could appreciate how absolutely in love your parents were.

You smiled amiably, “Benny, I’m honestly happy.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Well I don’t know how you want me to answer you Benedict, this is the best possible outcome for me.”

He rested his hands on your shoulders, ready to shake you in frustration. “I want you to be certain about this. I want to know that you’ll truly be happy.”

He took your silence as a sign, he had to do something about it. His dimples just peeked out as he sighed through his nose. “I can go talk to them now, we still have time to call this off.”

When Benedict turned, you panicked, grabbing one of his arms with both hands. “No! Ben listen to me.”

“I cannot in good conscience allow you to marry a man you do not love.”

Your lips turned up sadly, “There is nothing you can do about it, Ben. The Earl Hampton offers great prospects, not only for me but for our sisters. He is wealthy, holds a good reputation in society, and I feel we could grow to at least be friends with each other.”

He sighed heavily, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “If anything happens, anything at all, you write to me and I will be there on our fastest horse.”

You sniffed loudly, “Of course Benny, although Chestnut doesn’t like you.”

You pulled away, keeping one arm wrapped around each other as you went to join the rest of your family. “Now I think I’ve earned the right to some light ribbing, general mischief, against your future husband.”

“Sure Benedict. Just don’t scare him off.”

FRANCESCA

Your sisters, Daphne and Francesca, wanted to be with you every step of the way before your wedding. Daphne was excited to see how everything worked for her own, and Frannie wanted to spend as much time with you as she could before you left.

You were in a carriage on your way to the church, your mama holding Hyacinth on her lap next to Daphne. Francesca clung to your arm, sat between you and a very sulky Eloise.

You were talking excitedly with your mama, dressed beautifully in white. Your family spared no expense getting you ready. You had genuinely never felt more elegant. Francesca was playing with some of the jewels around your neck.

You heard the sound of the church bell ringing, butterflies now fluttering around your stomach. The carriage grew silent. Your mama was struggling to hold back tears, Eloise was even more huffy, Daphne reached a hand out to hold yours. You tried to ease your breathing, the nerves threatening to overwhelm you entirely.

A male voice cried something outside and your brain shifted. You met your mama’s eyes, “I wish he were here.”

She nodded and reached out to hold your and Daphne’s connected hands. “I know dearest, he would have been so proud of you.”

You spluttered a half-laugh, half-sob, “He’d be riding ahead of everyone, double and triple checking everything was going according to plan.”

Daphne giggled through her own tears, “He’d force the boys to line up so he could straighten their ties and fix their hair.”

“I can’t remember Papa.” Frannie’s sweet little voice jumped in, heartbroken that you could all reminisce about a man she barely knew.

“Well, he loved you very much.” You moved your arm out of her tight grasp to pull her tight into your side. “He loved us all very much and he had such high hopes for us. He knew we would all grow up to become special.”

“Really?” She sniffled. Eloise surprised you by offering Fran her hand to cling on to.

“Oh he adored you Frannie. He used to carry you on his shoulders when we played Pall Mall and you would help him direct his shots. One tap on his head for left, two for right. One tap on his ear for a soft hit, two for a hard hit…”

You continued to remind Francesca of the love your father held for her, completely distracted from your nerves, all the way to the church.

GREGORY

You’re certain your children are far too young for you to have favourites. Besides you have only three, it seems rather unfair to the other two. But you can’t deny, if you were to have a favourite, it is Matthew. He’s such a sweet baby, never fussy or cranky, much like his aunt Hyacinth.

Even now, surrounded by aunts and uncles eager to see his little face, he is the perfect little cherub. Elizabeth screamed when anyone other than you or Edward held her, and Ophelia threw up all over Anthony. Matthew seems perfectly content to be passed around like a shiny new toy.

When Daphne hands him back to you, a little reluctantly, you spot Gregory sitting with Anthony, sulking a little. You already have your suspicions as to why. It’s the same reasons Eloise and Hyacinth stayed seated on the chaise when you entered.

You move closer, “Are you not excited to see me, Anthony? Gregory?”

Anthony folds his newspaper, “Nonsense, I’m delighted to see you, sister. Though I do wish it were under better circumstances.” He gestures to your black attire.

You bob your head hoping it comes across as a nod. You look down to Matthew as he yawns softly. Being handled by so many people must have been exhausting.

“Would you like to hold him?” Your gaze doesn’t move from your son but in your periphery, you spot Gregory lifting his hands like he wants to agree. But then they drop as he but defers to Anthony, who gives him a stern look.

You bend your knees slightly, trying to meet your littlest brother’s eyes. “Is that why you didn’t come say hi? Is Anthony being an overprotective worrywart?”

Gregory giggles softly and nods. You ignore Anthony’s incredulous grunt in favour of gesturing for him to stand, “Come, I’ll help you hold him.”

Greg brightens immediately and jumps up from his seat. You sit down, now eye level with him.

You instruct him on how to position his arms, even pushing down a little to make sure he can hold them strong.

Carefully, you place Matthew in his youngest uncle’s arms, adjusting as needed. But Gregory maintains his gentle and firm hold. Once he is comfortable enough, he even takes a step back from you. His eyes stay fixed on Matthew’s sleeping face, awe filling his small body.

“Can I show him to Hyacinth?” He removes his gaze for only a split second. When you nod, he treads gingerly.

You turn to Anthony, “See, he’s a natural.”

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly and pouted, “You didn’t let me hold Matthew.”

COLIN

You’d missed going to these picnics with your family but if you’d known it would just be mamas and young ladies trying to get into your family’s good books by talking to the ‘poor widowed sister’, you’d have stayed at home with your baby.

Your daughters are playing with Gregory and Hyacinth, Colin saddled with babysitting while Benedict holds Matthew. You’re certain you saw a young lady swoon when he smiled at his nephew.

You sit under the gazebo, tuning out the incessant chatter of a mama eager to impress your eldest brother with her ‘compassion’. She’d given her customary condolences then listed off her daughter’s incredible achievements as if that meant anything to you. Your own mama, polite as ever, excuses herself and Anthony, stating that she wanted to enjoy the fresh air.

“Would you like to join us, Lady Buxton?” The blonde shakes her head, and your mama face falters for a moment. She was hoping to rescue you from the woman’s non-stop chatter.

Thankfully Lady Buxton takes her daughter back to their own gazebo, claiming to feel faint from the sun. You wave off your brother and mother as they take their leave.

You close your eyes for a moment, grateful for the peace and quiet. Your ears focus on the sounds of birds gossiping in the trees, your daughters’ cheering when they win against their aunt and uncle, Matthew’s babbling as Benedict tickles him.

Then you hear a hushed voice from behind you, soft enough that no one but you and whoever they were speaking to could hear.

“I heard a rumour that she killed him.” A gasp and some shushing. “Isn’t it suspicious? She has the son they were seeking, and then the Earl dies in a ‘hunting accident’?”

“Well I heard that he visited the ladies of the night rather frequently and he died there one night, so they covered it up with that excuse.”

“Well I heard-“ “Well I heard-“ “Well I heard-“

“Sister?” Colin’s voice jolts you from the words repeating in your head. “Are you alright?” The group of ladies who were saying those cruel things giggle as they walk away hastily.

You nod, mouth twisted with distress.

“Oh I can see that.” He offers you his handkerchief.

You dab under your eyes, “Where are the children?”

As he sits down, Colin gestures to Benedict who chases them around and Daphne who shows off her nephew to a brightly dressed Penelope Featherington and a stone-faced Eloise. You could tell though, El loved her nieces and nephews.

“Are you going to tell what brought those tears on or will I have to interrogate you?” He stuffs a piece of cake in his mouth.

“I miss him.” You run your fingers over the monogram on Colin’s handkerchief.

He hums sympathetically.

“I didn’t love him as I should have, but it still hurts so much.” You sniff, teary eyes meeting your brother’s soft face. “He will never see our children grow, he will never get to watch our daughters get married, he will never be able to support Matthew take over the household.”

Your voice catches in your throat.

Colin continues when you can’t. “It’s like when we lost father.���

You nod, face twisting in anguish. “I miss them both more than ever.”

“Then we shall do what we do best, sister.” He reaches over, grabbing your favourite cake. “Eat until we feel sick and talk about our feelings.”

“That’s never how it works, you just eat and I always end up doing the talking.”

“And? It works doesn’t it?”

DAPHNE

Viewing wedding preparations from the other side made you eternally grateful for your mama’s support. Of course, Daphne’s nuptials were rushed under the circumstances your brother loved to rant about at you. But your mama was an absolute angel.

Having coordinated your wedding, it seemed she learned what was essential and prioritised things by how quickly they could be acquired.

All things considered it was a beautiful ceremony, and despite their denial, you were beyond ecstatic that Daphne had found her love match in Simon.

Even at Daph’s reception, where the focus was meant to be on the blushing bride, mamas and their bright-eyed daughters approach you and your brothers. You’d have thought after the second time their condolences didn’t win them any favours, they would have left you alone.

Now they were eager to prove that their daughters could be good mothers by trying to force you to let them hold Matthew. That was never going to happen and quite frankly, you’re ready to race back home with your children and sleep for a few days.

But your daughters are having too much fun running around and Matthew is finally asleep in your arms, despite Lady Cowper’s best attempts at waking him with her nasally tone.

You spot Daph from across the hall, her smile fading as the constant greetings and thank-yous wear her down. You excuse yourself from Lady Cowper, leaving your brothers to figure that situation out.

Before anyone else can approach Daphne, you ask her to come with you to the dressing room so she can help you with your baby.

You take her hand, pulling her quickly behind you. No one even looks at you, your determined steps repelling them.

Once you’re alone, she thanks you profusely. “I’m not sure how much longer I could have taken that.”

“I had a feeling you needed a moment to breathe. Besides I need a break from carrying this one.” You hand Matthew to her, pressing a kiss to his head. Then you move to a mirror, checking your dress and hair, making sure everything was where it should be.

“Did you enjoy the ceremony?” She asks nervously.

“I know it was not quite what you wanted, but I truly could not be happier for you.” You make your way back to them, brushing a finger over your son’s soft cheek.

“I wish I could have had what you had.”

“No dearest. What I had with Edward was different. You love Simon,” You ignore her annoyed expression, “and I’m certain you will be very happy with him.”

You take Matthew back, placing a hand gently on Daphne’s cheek. “I am the proudest I’ve ever been. I love you so much Daphne.”

She takes your hand, “I love you too, Y/N.”

[yuichi-ro]

𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘴𝘢 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

cw: fem!Reader, dom!Reader, sub!Wakasa oviposition, sex toys, anal (m!receiving), belly bulge, watersports, hands free cum, nicknames (ma’am, pretty kitty, etc), NSFW content, unedited word count: 2.7k    

The search history on Wakasa’s phone was, enlightening, to say the least.

You’d lost more than just a few minutes scrolling through the pages, bookmarks and other tucked away hidden treasures of his dirty mind in the confines of his smartphone. Some of it average. Some of it dark web worthy that painted a very different picture of unenthused man. But one thing that always came back to almost all of the frequented videos were one thing. Eggs. 

Wakasa wanted a belly full of eggs and it was painfully obvious from his search history. Who were you to deny such a splendid thing to your lover?

With the curve of the toy pressed against his sensitive seam. You cooed as you ran your palms over his thighs and let the weight of the new toy press against his taint with no more relief than that. His cock twitching against his slender hips even if he was only half erect . It was charming since he hadn’t been touched even once yet. This excitement purely by the sight of your newly introduced toy.

“You like it?” Your hands gripped his thighs. Drawing out a tired sigh from the man laid out under you who did his best to not close his eyes while you spoke, “Was so hard to keep it under wraps when I ordered it...”

Taking the toy back into your possession. Wakasa was no match when you slipped the underside of the alien like silicone toy against the underside of his cock. His member throbbed while he twisted his fists in the sheets underneath and kicked his feet out to no avail as he couldn’t buck his hips up against the toy for enough relief. Swelling cock no longer a half hard on leaking on his pale thigh. Now as you drew the empty new toy along his cock. Purposely grinding and fake frotting against him. Wakasa’s eyes fluttered to the back of his head. Cock head purple and leaking. Slimy precum slipping down around the folds of foreskin pulled back from his sensitive tip. Each swipe of the toy making it messier but drawing out as many equally pathetic moans each time.

“S-Shit-” He managed with a shaky breath. Able to open his eyes just to look down at you smug between his thighs. Wakasa wasn’t about to tell you to stop. Mind spinning he could hardly focus on the toy. When next to you was what he really wanted all along.

“You want these?” You look over to the container of very graphically depicted egg shaped balls. There had to be at least half a dozen of them. Fleshy, clear, jelly like in texture. He hadn’t even gotten to touch them but already the idea of having them inside him was making him squirm, “You know-” You pull the precum covered tip of said toy away. Inspecting it and the slime trails he’d left on it as Wakasa remained immobilized under you, “I had to stop what I was doing and rub my poor clit after I saw all your search history....naughty naughty kitty.”

Wakasa wiggled his hips. Snug in the bed under you. His entire body on fire yet he couldn’t vocalize his needs as blush spread from the tips of his ears and to the rest of his face. He’d dream of this moment. But never thought it would happen. And that you’d be this into it.

Sighing heavily, all for show, you give him a playful pout as you examine the toy. Remarking how he’ll have to be a good boy. And push them all out for you. Of course only after you stuffed him to the brim with these gooey nasty eggs. Making a momentary show of your new toy. The precum that he’d leaked all over the tip made it that much easier for you to slip your finger into the opening at the top. Assuring Wakasa was watching diligently as you fucked the opening of the toy.

First one finger. Then another. Swirling it around and making a show of how stretchy the material was. After all it was made to fit all these wonderful eggs in it. 

“Mmm I bet you wish I could do this to your cock.” You smirked, knuckles deep in the tubing of the toy as you rubbed his precum into the silicone toy, “Finger fucking your dick hole like this. Getting it nice and stretched out for eggs....because we really know where you want these laid don’t we?”

Adverting his eyes Wakasa wiggled his bottom down towards you. Amplifying how badly he wanted this when his ass rubbed your leg. Where you sat cross legged between his spread legs. Left with Wakasa nothing to grind and relieve himself on. But as you teased and talked, just to have him throb against the air and nothing else. Beads of precum rolling down his shaft and staining his tuffs of pubic hair surrounding the base of his cock. He looked good enough to eat. 

But that would wait. Right now you were living out your good boy’s fantasy.

“Do you want these?”

Wakasa remained silent but staring.

“I said-” You tapped the alien like toy against his ass and raised an eyebrow, “Do you want this?”

“Y-Yes-” He managed through clenched teeth. Eyes unable to look away from the toy resting under his cum heavy balls.

“Yes what?”

Groaning and rolling his hips up against the toy Wakasa let his head roll back and the world’s most pathetic moan leave him, “I want your eggs- Please ma’am- I just- I want to feel your eggs in me-”

“See, now was that so hard?” You take hold of the bottle of lube next to the treasure trove of eggs. 

So very liberal with the lube. Pouring it from above his cock. Watching the clear slime of the vicious lube rub down his cock. Wakasa’s already glistening member now slathered in lube as it flowed like rivers down around his pubic hair and pooled around his ass. So when the tip touched his entrance there was almost no resistance. To both of your pleasures.

Wakasa’s entire body trembled and thrashed. Urging his body down on the toy faster. Because obviously the speed that you slid the toy in wasn’t enough. The man’s twitching insides swallowing each centimeter you gave him. Followed by every inch. Until your closed fist around it’s base rubbed against his ass cheeks and balls. Making you smile pleasantly with how well he took it. Holding it deep in him as another hand came up to fondle his poor neglected balls. 

“I saw all that twisted fucking shit you watched- That you read-” Your fingers massaging and tugging at his sack as you slowly pushed the toy in and out of him. Wakasa melting quickly under you as the gooeiness from the lube made the toy slide down to the hilt with each push. Those grip-able slender hips of his shuddering and bucking up against your attention. Attempting to fuck himself on the toy but you simply wouldn’t allow it as you kept the pace agonizingly slow, “You must forgive me....of course I’d love to fill you up with eggs. Fuck that cock hole of yours until your gushing out my seeds....laying my eggs in your belly....but I hope this will suffice my dear pretty kitty.”

“Mo-More-” He managed. Already breathlessly fucked out expression creeping onto his otherwise complacent face. Wakasa couldn’t get the ache, no, the itch in his insides taken care of this way, “Please- Ma’am more please-”

“You want my eggs in you?”

“More than anything.”

You sunk the toy down to the hilt. Pressing the thicker base into his entrance and spreading him. No more toy for him to take as the rest of it was deep in his guts. But with the way Wakasa spasmed and attempted to fuck himself on the toy you swore he’d take the entire toy up his ass if you didn’t get him what he wanted.

First was the reluctant moan when you pulled the toy from him. Clenching walls around nothing now. Wakasa unable to stand it reached down without hesitation to stuff his two fingers inside himself. Quite the beautiful site as you sat back to load the toy up. Fingering himself with a level of desperation you hadn’t seen on him yet. Making you wonder how pathetic he was when he jerked off to those R rated pornos you snooped on his phone. And as Wakasa looked at you with a half lidded gaze and his fingers plunging inside his own guts with a cock leaking on his thighs. You set to slipping a couple of the jelly like eggs inside the toy. More than one round. You still could only fit a few in the toy as they slipped around with double the amount of lube after you poured so much over Wakasa just to fuck him.

Snug in their sheath you didn’t even have to tell him to move his hand. Repositioning the toy at his entrance. Wakasa relaxing instantly and you didn’t even push inside him yet. So when you waited a second. Until it forced him to try and focus on what you were doing. That’s when you pushed the loaded toy as deep as you could into him. Sliding in with no resistance. Right back up to the hilt like it was made for him. The inhuman noise ripped from Wakasa’s lips made you giggle.

“You want them laid in you?” You asked, fingers threatening around the base of the no longer hollow toy. One squeeze and the first egg would pop into him, “All my precious slimy eggs inside you~?”

“Yes-” Wakasa began nodding profusely. What strands of sanity he had after you surprised him with this toy were quickly slipping through his fingers. Wiggling, grinding and pushing down on the toy like he could will more of it in him. Finally his calm and cool composure cracking as the first little taste of your fingers tightening around the toy’s base and the first egg sliding inside him, “Yes! Yes please your eggs- Ma’am- fill me please- Fuck-”

Grinning ear to ear you squeezed the rest of the way. Assuring the first three where lodged inside him. Wakasa’s hips doing practical gymnastics as you slid the toy out of him slowly. Like a good boy as you refilled the toy he stuffed his fingers inside himself. Moaning like a whore as he ground himself down on his digits. Just as anticipated the second you put the toy to his entrance again. Pumping him full of a second load of eggs. You knew one of them would rest snug against his sweet spot. And such a sweet spot it was. Wakasa choked on his moans. Goosebumps pricking at every inch of his skin. Nipples begging to be tugged at. And a cock rock hard and pulsating. None of that mattered as it was more than just twice that you refilled the toy.

Up until the very last egg was squeezed into Wakasa’s overly sensitive insides. You could feel the resistance now of all of them wanting to come out of him. Keeping the toy inside him it made the most beautiful bump in his otherwise flat stomach. You giggled and managed to hold the toy inside of him to free up your other hand.

“Waka look...” You voice trailed off when your hand pressed the bump in his abdomen. Pathetic drooling whimper from the man under you. His eyes glossed over with pleasure. Words unable to be formed but precum kept leaking from his slit when you pressed down on his bulging belly, “My eggs look so nice in you....I wanna plug them up and never let them out of you....” Your touch ghosted over his hairy belly and smirked at his eyes fluttering shut when his cock twitched. Not even a fraction of an actual orgasm. Just from being this full and your lewd words had a meager amount of cum dribbling down his cock as more than just a little bit of the eggs pressed to his prostate, “Oh but how I desperately wanna see you push them all out too. On your knees....like a fucking whore.”

Pushing the toy inside him. Riling up the eggs that rolled around in his guts. Pressed at all the right spots and more. Wakasa was panting staring up at the ceiling when he rubbed his belly after you. Feeling the bulge you were admiring. It was big. But god how he wished it was bigger. Fuller. Teeming with eggs. He knew he’d love the evil you could do with this toy. 

“Next time I’ll plug you up,” You hummed happily as you watched his cock just about ready to burst it seemed, “Now, I wanna see you get up.”

“G-Get up?” Wakasa repeated your words not really sure he could.

“Get up.” You said sterner this time, “Get on your knees and push them all out. Each one. I wanna see you push all my eggs out pretty kitty...”

Groaning as Wakasa swore his limbs felt like they were made of lead. Your wish was his command and he wasn’t about to upset the person so lovingly pumping him full of eggs.

Careful as he did it. And with your help. The toy stay lodged inside him and not a single egg escaped prematurely. You rubbed his belly once more as Wakasa knelt above your lap. Staring down at his distended belly and raging hard cock sticking straight up regardless of his full belly.

“Wait-” You reached over and grabbed the container the eggs had been in before, “Mmm wanna catch all my pretty boy’s eggs after all.”

Maybe the wink you gave him. Or the utter disgusting nature of what he’d gotten himself into. Depraved be damn Wakasa didn’t care if it would be a mess. He was only thinking about being your incubator for the rest of his life now.

With encouragement and Wakasa’s hands on your shoulders to steady his wobbly legs. You slowly pushed the toy inside him a few more times. Met with resistance but mountains of pleasure as Wakasa inadvertently rutted his hips into the motion of the toy. Fucking himself best he could before without warning you pulled the literal plug on him. 

The utter disgusting gushing lewd noises that echoed in the room were the cherry on top. When Wakasa felt the slimy eggs pouring out of him. One by one. Thick in the middle as it passed through him. It felt all too weird and too good at once. And utterly neglected cock shot a healthy gush of cum up his abs. With the slow deflation of his belly as Wakasa doubled over you. Legs trembling. Moans ripped from his pretty lips. And the plop of each egg out of him caused the most spine tingling orgasm to take his breath away. Cum streaked across his now flat stomach as the last few eggs were pushed from his insides. The rest of his load dripped and drooled into the pail of eggs. Coated in every juice he had. Only complete when Wakasa realized all those eggs had been pressed against his bladder as well. And when he relaxed after his orgasm, he didn’t have any control of the golden stream. Accidentally pissing himself after all his muscles relaxed like one big sigh. Wakasa stared down at the jelly eggs coated in everything now getting a little gush of his piss on them. 

Utterly too fucked out of it all the man could do was slump into you. Comforted by your arms cradling him against your body. And your lips coming to kiss the sensitive skin right under his ear lobe.

“...don’t get too comfortable Waka.” You mumbled into his warm skin and gave him a playful nip of his ear lobe, “Those are reusable and I’m going to stuff them all back inside you. Plug you up and ride you until you’re crying under me.”

Wakasa couldn’t speak. Too in love with you and every word that left your mouth. He’d happily become your incubator for the rest of his life if this was the fun that awaited him.

[absinthe-and-tea]

Hii, you wrote slashers and s/o with big boobs, but what about the opposite? S/o with small boobs who is insecure about that and feels less like a woman?

Btw I love your writing and your headcanons. They make my day ♥

I myself have pretty tiny boobs soooo- also I got this request twice kinda so I hope you guys dont mind me putting them into one ❤ Also super happy you like my stuff!!

P.S. I got half way through this and had to start over cause Tumblr deleted my progress 🙃

Slasher HCs || S/O W/ Small Breasts

Warnings: N//SFW

Jason Voorhees

He loves you no matter what. Honestly he loves how small they are. They easily fit in his hands, making it easier to touch all of you in a shorter amount of time.

If he sees you're down about them, he'll wrap his arms around your waist and pick you up gently. He'll then proceed to cover them in kisses.

He can't speak so he often uses his hands or mouth to praise them in other ways.

Loves running his thumb over your nipple to watch the small bud harden from his touch.

When you're intimate with him he makes sure to give them lots of attention. He prefers using his hands, loving how soft they are.

He's always loved them so he'll always continue to touch them and whatnot.

Michael Myers

He's fairly indifferent about them. He prefers was anyways.

Doesn't really compliment them or pay much attention to them the first time you two are intimate.

He doesn't notice how you feel for a while but when he finds you criticizing them though, it's fair game.

Will start coming up behind you, running his hands up your sides and to your breasts to engulf them in his large hands and gently squeeze.

He loves messing with them, that includes lightly pinching them. But he loves using his mouth on the more. Beware, he will nip and bite just hard enough to get a reaction from you.

Even after he's convinced you they are perfect, he'll continue touching them abd whatnot cause he'll have realized how much he likes them on you.

Brahms Heelshire

He's a manchild. And it shows. He definitely prefers bigger but he's alright with small breasts too.

100% has an oral fixation. Meaning he'll suck on them a lot. Whether he's partially laying on your lap or if you're on his lap stradling him, he's gonna have his mouth on them.

He'll say something about wishing they were bigger, not thinking about how it would make you feel.

If you start wearing sweaters more often or staring into mirrors longer, silently judging yourself, he'll start to take notice.

He'll start to grope them more and give them more attention while whispering how much he loves them.

He's an ass sometimes. But he loves you and your body. He'll make sure you know it too.

The Other

He's not home often and when he is, he spends a lot of time with his daughter but the moment its just you two, he's immediately walking towards you like a predator stalking it's prey.

He doesn't care about your boob size at all or if you have a nice ads. He just loves you.

When you cuddle, he'll always have a hand under your shirt. Either resting on your tummy or one of your breasts. Usually the latter.

If he sees how much you resent them, he'll show his love for them and your vidy in general by getting you lingerie.

The moment he sees you in it, you're getting thrown on the bed and getting the best night of your life.

Prepare to always be worshipped.

Vincent Sinclair

He loves them. No matter what, you are his muse. His inspiration.

He loves putting his hands on your sides and gently running his thumbs underneath them, against your ribs. Almost like he's sculpting a masterpiece.

He adores that they are small because he can pull your body even closer to his. He loves feeling all of you.

He prefers using his hands on them but he will gladly suckle on them as well. He's a bit shy though so you'll have to tell him you want it.

Absolutely hates that you feel badly about habing small boobs. So, he'll make countless sculptures, paintings, and drawings of you. He'll have so many things of just you that it feels as though he knows your body better than yourself.

Bo Sinclair

Another ass man but a nice set tits is great too. And that includes yours.

He enjoys them. How soft they are especially. His hands are very rough from doing mechanic work on the side so he enjoys the difference in softness.

If you say anything bad about them or judge them, he'll sit you on his lap and suckle them until you're writhing on top of him from sensitivity.

Not afraid to grope you in front of others or slide his hand under your shirt. Your his and he'll make that known real quick.

Loves to leave bitemarks and bruises on them to show you how much he likes them and how much he fully claims them and you.

Lester Sinclair

He likes boobs in general. Small or not. He just really likes the soft mounds.

Loves the feeling of your soft, squishy flesh under his hands and your hardened nipple brushing against his palm.

Gets super wide-eyed and excited if you wear lingerie that lets your breasts hang out. He'll sit there in awe until you get on his lap.

The moment you're on him, he's on you. Licking and nipping them softly, his hands gently groping and squeezing.

His heaven is either his head between your legs or against your breasts so expect him in either place at least once a night.

Solomon Goode

He worships every bit of you. You are his love after all and he would do anything to make you happy.

He enjoys the fact he can hold you close to his chest without large breasts in the way.

Enjoys teasing you every so often when in passing or not busy with work around the house or garden.

Seeing you topless makes his throat go dry and he begins hesitantly walking to you. You'll have to give him the okay to touch you but once you do, his mouth is attached to one of your nipples. His hand moving to rub the other.

He loves your softness and the smell of flowers that seems to surround you without your knowing. Being so close to you and tasting you is intoxicating to him.

Will always compliment them when he gets a good view. He'll never let you feel down about yourself. And if someone does something to make you feel that way, oops. Where'd they go?

Harry Warden

He's so happy anytime he can touch them. For a while though he won't take his gloves off, afraid you'll find him repulsive.

Though once he does and he feels the soft flesh for the first time, he'll never want to let go.

He loves the small mounds almost as much as he hates Valentine's Day. Between the softness of your flesh and the way your nipples harden at his touch, he's completely addicted to them.

Enjoys covering them in kisses while he praises you and compliments you. You're his precious lover after all.

Expect him to compliment them every time he sees you once he realizes you think they aren't perfect. They are gorgeous. Just like you.

Bubba Sawyer

Absolutely loves them. He couldn't even mildly dislike anything about you. You're perfect in his eyes. He'll even make you sundresses that show them off perfectly.

Though be careful when wearing said sundress because he'll get distracted by you really quick, causing him to forget about his work.

When laying in bed he'll always have a hand on one of your breasts subconsciously. Not even on purpose most times, he just wants to hold you.

Definitely another with an oral fixation. He enjoys gently playing with your hardened nipples with his tongue when in a more intimate moment.

Won't publicly do anything like groping because he's a good boy but will attempt to compliment you. You'll know what he's trying to say when he does.

Thomas Hewitt

Very handsy with you once your relationship starts to take off. Your breasts being something that fascinates him despite the size.

When you two are cuddled up in bed he will lightly run his fingertips over them to watch the goosebumps form and your nipples harden.

His favorite thing to do is grab your sides and use his thumbs to rub the little nubs. His eyes will wonder from your breasts to your face, wanting to catch the faces you make.

After a while he'll attach his mouth to one, his eyes never leaving your face. He adores how much pleasure he can give you from something so small.

His opinion when you bring up how you feel about them is "Good things come in small packages."

Eddie Gluskin

Well you already have a one up on his exes. They didn't even have anything at all. Barely even mosquito bites.

He'll run his fingertips over the mounds, lightly pressing down to see the small squish it makes.

You're his perfect bride. His Darling. So different from the whores he was with before. Your body is something else to him.

The mounds may be small but boy does he praise them and cover them in affection.

If you ask, he'd be happy to add an modifications to your wedding dress to make you feel better about them.

Though he'll need to do a lot of... Researching... To make sure he gets the measurements right.