#because it was an accident and ahe wants him to live

[leavemetoexist]

Was anyone going to tell me that the lighter that I've been theorizing about for months was actually Faroe/ Faroe's doing and that's the only reason that lighter sticks with Arthur or was i supposed to listen to the new episode and cry once i realised it?

[matsunoluvr]

I thought I saw you were looking for writing ideas. Can we get the LaD men reactions when their s/o touches their butt by accident? (Bonus points if she shyly offers to let them touch hers to make up for it)

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ accidentally touching the love and deepspace butts…?

warnings: suggestive content, swearing

author’s note: HELLO i’m so sorry this took literal months… classes beat me HARD. also… so very sorry for the zayne girlies, i had zero idea what to write. i feel as though i have disrespected him.

characters: rafayel, xavier, zayne, sylus

link to master list here!

more under the cut :3

when rafayel paints on small, detailed canvases he’s always edged up close to the canvas - basically eating the paints

it’s the reason why he literally gets his materials all over him, but that’s not what annoys you.

his back is quite broad, and it makes it almost impossible to see the canvas properly as he paints.

one day, out of curiosity, you try to lean in and get a glimpse of how he’s painting - getting on your tip toes to see over his shoulder

then you lean a little too close - but as you bring your hand up to balance yourself, you feel something brush against the back of your hand

and hear a very, flustered yelp.

“Ah! What the fu-”

immediately rafayel’s head whips around, his body tensing as he felt the gentle graze of your hand.

his eyes are wide and his ears and cheeks are already turning red with embarrassment - whether it’s because of your touch or his reaction is hard to discern.

he’s sputtering and stuttering over his words, unable to speak properly

like a fish out of water just flailing around, hands doing this and that whilst he’s just like “Uh, uhhh?? Huh? HUH?? WHY?” and you’re like “NO IT WAS AN ACCIDENT I SWEAR IT-“

definitely doesn’t want to admit that it felt ticklish, poor fishie had a sensitive butt :3

pouty and very upset with you, he was flustered beyond belief!! how could you be so… so prude!!!!!

definitely rubs his butt after to try and get rid of the tingling sensation it left

i feel like rafayel (if not in the ‘mood’) gets really easily embarrassed if you touch his erogenous zones - like his collar bones, ears, neck, abdomen and… butt

am i overplaying my ‘virgin-pure’ rafayel headcannons right now probably

maybe it’s in lemurian customs that touching in general is an act reserved for the one you love most/bonded to

and when you touch rafayel he still is flustered by it, regardless of the fact that he’s lived as a human for a long time (especially when you touch his butt I’M SORRY I CAN’T GET OVER SENSITIVE RAFAYEL)

so when you then suggest so innocently, so purely and so so softly if he wanted to - quote unquote - ‘touch your butt to make it equal.’ he almost burst on the spot

like literally you could here the little pwoof of hot air that came off of him

“You want me to- to do what?”

he gets even more embarrassed, i would say he gets red but he’s already so flustered he’d burst a blood vessel if he did.

is he against the idea of touching your butt? absolutely NOT rafayel loves every part of you, including your ass - but the idea of touching it just makes him a mess

and when you offer so sheepishly… how is he even supposed to touch your butt?

does he go in for a little brush? a handful? how long? finger tips or whole palm? upper butt or lower… does he go for one cheek? which cheek???

literally just malfunctioning on the spot, paintbrush dropped.

his hands are clenching and unclenching as he swallows dryly, composing himself as he takes a deep breath and reaches out - eyebrows furrowed as if he was concentrating really hard

slowly, he just - rests his finger tips against your butt.

he was so shy, as if he’d never touched your butt before - although to be fair he was much less off guard and more… in the mood.

you could almost laugh at how sheepish he seemed, not even making eye contact with you

“Hmph, this doesn’t make things even cutie.”

you and xavier were taking a nap together, well more like cuddling as you had both long waken up.

he was nuzzling into you, face rested in a gentle smile of content as his nose prods gently into your neck, arms lazily wrapped around your waist

your arms were trapped in his grasp until you wiggled a little - much to his dismay, and freed them

“Don’t wanna cuddle with me?”

faux offence masks his face as he pouts up at you, eyebrows furrowed as he gives your neck a loving little kiss

rolling your eyes, you shift in his grasp to allow yourself to cross your arms over his back

but as you reached around to hug him… instead of grabbing his lower back you aimed a little too low

boom.

hand full of ass.

xavier is definitely surprised, you can tell by the way he doesn’t say anything and instead he widens his eyes a little, lips parting slightly

his butt is nice and soft, and to be honest if you weren’t so embarrassed by the wholesome situation turning very PG18 in a matter of seconds you’d probably appreciate it a little more

but you have no time to revel in the stress-ball, mochi-esque butt before you shrivel up in mortification

i feel like xavier gets over it quite quickly, just blinking a bit before giving you a cheeky smile

“I didn’t know you wanted to do that to me.”

no matter what flustered excuses you give, he’ll innocently tease you further about the little situation

he’d say things like ‘would you rate your experience?’ and ‘is this an exclusive perk only you get?”

to be honest, you couldn’t tell if he was trying to ease the tension or if he genuinely just didn’t care that you literally squeezed his butt like it was a toy

shifting around in his arms, you try to face away but he just airily chuckles - grasp firm enough to make it difficult to turn but not impossible

he knows you didn’t really wanna turn away

until you do turn around

immediate switch in demeanour, going from teasing and playful to more concerned and serious

thinks he upset you by teasing you or that you got too embarrassed around him - both terrible outcomes in his eyes

but just as he’s about to ask what was wrong, you mumble out some words

xavier asks you to repeat yourself even though he’s heard the first time

he thought he heard wrong

but when you repeat yourself, a little ‘you can do it back…’ he’s holding back a jaw drop

however, after not too long you feel a large, firm hand snake its way from your waist, to your hips, then finally settling cozy on your butt - and you could feel his smirk against your skin.

definitely gives it a little squish, not a squeeze, just a squish

don’t be fooled by his faux calm demeanour, he’s actually using every ounce of his self control not to take you on the spot as he watches your reaction

“I’m not quite satisfied yet… is there anything more for you to offer me?”

playing doctors with dr zayne…

him checking out your blood components, heart beat etc, just a routinely check-up to ensure your protocore syndrome isn’t acting up

his hands soothing over your upper arm as he takes your blood pressure, calloused fingers rubbing (whether intentionally or not) against you whilst adjusting the device

he’s fully in business-no-nonsense mode, you could tell by the crease in his eyebrows

you can’t help but become amused at his professionalism, i mean, after all, he was your boyfriend - what’s with the coldness?

giving his cheek (face… not ass) a small pinch, you try to egg a smile out of him - only for him to frown and move your hand away gently - but firmly - a clear message of ‘not until the procedure is done’

fine… doctors orders i guess

after everything’s done zayne’s face relaxes a little, and you know he’s out of professionalism mode

to celebrate another check up of not dying and not being in imminent danger of your protocore syndrome wiping out your existence, you jump up from the table and go to pat his back…

pat his back… oh how pure and innocent your intentions were

unfortunately for you, the results were far less PG when you watch zayne stiffen up, eyes ever so slightly widening as he feels your palm flatten against his rear

a small “Hmph?” for a reaction

it was a little surprising how firm it was, and if you’d not whipped your hand away at mach-fucking-speed it’d probably have tensed a little more

but your hand did retreat much faster than humanely possible

his lips part… expecting some sort of comment from him

you already began to scheme some sort of excuse

it was the wind.

he was hallucinating, how much sleep did he get last night?

and then he readjusts his tie, looks down at his clipboard and carries on talking

…

..

what??

you, his significant other, just touched his ass and his response is to read out your ‘average platelet count’ and ‘mild arrhythmia but-nothing-out-of-the-normal-for-you’???

when you look at him incredulously, he falters ever so slightly

“What’s the matter?”

not so politely pointing out the obvious that - hey dude, you’re not going to say anything after i groped you?? - he can’t help but respond with an amused huff

replying with something sophisticated about “accidents happen all the time” and that you’re “both mature enough” makes you feel, well, embarrassed at how relaxed he was

it made you want to tease him, mess with him, see him as flustered as you.

so, naturally, as any person would, you asked him if he wanted to “return the favour”

and naturally, as any person would if their partner suggested something like that, zayne’s mind short circuited

“Not in the hospital, Y/N…”

don’t feel too dejected, that night he DEFINITELY made use of that ass (proud believer of zayne doggy style lover)

missions with sylus were always an adventure

you were either going to be diverging on a mini “date” (toooootally platonic.), looking at flowers, enjoying the nicer outskirts of the N109 zone, or quite literally fighting for your life

today… well somehow you found yourselves playing cat and mouse with a group of men…

except imagine the cats had literal war weapons

and the mouse had a crow friend with a bit too smart of a mouth.

which definitely spoke the wrong words at the right times.

sylus had insisted he just “rid of the problem” to which you pointed out that the mission goal was to extract intel from one of the masked members

after muttering something unintelligible under his breath (probably some curses or whinging, man child.) he decided to jog after you

which is how you two ended up hiding behind a flight of stairs, three or four mossy, wooden crates pressing the two of you against the dull brick wall

the faint damp smell of rotting organic matter, however, served nothing to distract you of the sensation of your front pressing a bit too much into sylus

sylus is a tall man, evident by the way his was craning, preventing his hair from brushing on the underside of the stairs

which also meant your lower tummy was pressing flush against his butt.

if sylus was uncomfortable, he definitely did not show it, nor comment on it

in fact, it seemed as though only you noticed the predicament the two of you were in, but you knew that was far from the truth.

nothing could evade his inhuman senses.

the sound of footsteps flooding the streets almost drowned the rush of blood that was flowing through your face, invading your ears and sending a dull ring through your skull

why was it kind of soft?

would it not be more muscled, toned?? his thighs look well sculpted, does he neglect his ass??

or is he just born with a peachy butt? is he blessed by some butt genie?

peace be with you, butt genie, this ass is marvellous.

“Sweetie, they’re all gone.”

his low, calm voice reels your mind back as you realise what was going on.

oh my god. you were literally GROPING his ass.

hastily pushing back and away, you almost tumble over the crates as you distance from his ass as MUCH as possible

it was too powerful, like a magnet it’s force field dragged your body to it!

as sylus was extracting himself from the hiding spot, you slowly come up with some sort of repentance, an apology.

you’d say you apologise for pushing any boundaries and that you understand that it was inappropriate and then the two of you would continue with the mission.

which was obviously why when he was dusting off his clothes you stutter out “You can touch my butt too.”

if you were trying to see sylus surprised for the first time, it definitely was successful.

after his initial confusion, a little smirk plastered his lips as he raised an eyebrow

“Could I claim my prize now?”

with the hesitant nod of your head, a large, warm hand clasps around one of your cheeks and gives it a firm squeeze.

he lets out a deep, appreciative hum before letting his thumb rub across the peak of your butt, then lifting his other hand to gently tap the end of your nose

“Naughty kitten, don’t offer these services to anyone else. Okay?”

end note: ARGHHH i’m not happy with this lowkey but i can’t do any better!! im so sorry requester if this disappoints (;´д｀)

[fancyfeathers]

Mother!Reader and Bruce are relaxing on a couch. (Much to her discomfort.) Daughter!Reader comes running in carrying a raccoon calling it her "Son". Mother!Reader: Sweetheart where did you get that? Bruce: ... The rest of the batfamily comes running in because what does she mean "son"?! Only for them to see Daughter!Reader holding a raccoon that is eating the bacon she didn't eat that morning at breakfast. Even worse for them, she doesn't let Damian pet her "son", and she makes Dick buy baby diapers for her "son" because her "son" can't be having accidents around the house. The paparazzi catches Daughter!Reader at a gala and soon the news crew come running over too. Gotham Daily Times: Ms. Wayne what is this new exotic pet of yours? Daughter!Reader: Ah, Wayne is not my last name, (whatever last name of theirs) is my last name. But, um, this is Wally. He likes to run really fast around me, say hi Wally. (Cut to her holding her son, Wally, up to the microphone of the reporter only for him to sniff it.) Gotham Daily Times: Well, Ms. (last name) has just confirmed a raccoon, her "son", named Wally is officially her pet. Can she out beat Bruce Wayne's son Damian Wayne in hoarding exotic animals? We shall see next time on Gotham Daily Times news channel nine. The speedsters watching from central city: Wally? Because he likes to run fast? ... Someone call Batman how does she know our identities.

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

I LOVE FERAL DAUGHTER!DARLING!!!!

Love the idea of her being an absolute menace when it was just her mother raising her and Bruce having no idea what he is getting himself into with this.

Like it was when she was playing out in the garden in the morning, perhaps even the morning right after the wedding, there is no real honeymoon besides on paper at Wayne Enterprises since Bruce is still the Batman. The two of them are just getting up, after the kids have had had breakfast together and Mother!Darling is literally about to tell Bruce about her daughter’s rather… playful behavior-

“Mama! Mama! Look what I found!”

She already feels like laughing when she hears her daughter’s overeager voice and the bedroom door opens with her daughter running in with her holding something in her skirt and-

“This is my baby! I found him in the yard, I think his mama is dead…”

Her daughter holds up a baby raccoon while Bruce is half way through tying his tie.

“Can we keep him?��

“Of course, little love.”

“Dear-“

“You have something to say, Bruce?”

Well played, if Bruce was to say no now it would break her heart and set everything off on the wrong foot. When she runs out of the room she looks over at him with a knowing glance, she may have been fired into a marriage, but he will feel the consequences of his actions…

“I suppose I forgot to tell you about her… mischievous habits, you will get used to it eventually, and no, there is no taming her, do not try.”

Jason does not understand why she wants it around, it’s a raccoon in Gotham, a baby but still, but hey if it makes her happy and even slightly annoys Bruce, he is fine with it.

Dick is fine with it? He is just confused as of why, I mean if his little sister wants a pet she gets a pet, but why no a cat, dog, or even something like a ferret, but a raccoon? Alright, he’ll ask Babs if she can find any books on exotic animal care and he will take her to the pet store with Damian to pick up supplies-

What does she mean Damian can’t come? When they are little, she is terrified of him, honestly she is always terrified of him. Why would she let him anywhere near her pet when his stare makes her feel daggers. She is holding her baby raccoon away from Damian, and his pets, Alfred the Cat, Titus. Damian is pissed and very well could go whining to Bruce about it.

Then Tim is just freaked out by it, but when he is sitting the furtherest from his new sister and her new pet in the living room and everyone is suggesting names…

“How about Wally? Dick what do think?”

“Ya, he definitely reminds me of Wally.”

“Who’s Wally?”

“Don’t worry about it, lovebug.”

But then this naming choice certainly backfires when Wally West comes running (literally) to Tim about it, at first he is panicked about it but then he sees her playing with the raccoon and-

“Fuck… I hate that you’re not wrong about that.”

Though this situation only escalates over the years when she finds other animals, a husky puppy her father suggests to name Clark, a baby owl named Diana, a hummingbird named Roy, and cats named Barry and Connor.

[aerithmybbgmypookiemywife]

Genshin SAGAU where they hide in the Fortress Of Meropide in order to live a normal life.

not proofread pt2

Creator! Reader who woke up confused in Fontaine. "What the fuck..." you mumbled as you were trying to piece everything together, why were you here? Is this a dream...?

You soon realized that you died in the real world because of Truck-Kun. Now... You have to adjust into this world...

It took a little bit of time to adjust but with the help of an old fisherman living in the mountains who took you in, it didn't take long before you accepted this life.

Creator! Reader who wants to live their life in peace and don't ever want to be found by the Archons or... Any of the main characters for that matter! It'd be a headache if they found out... You didn't want people being overprotective over you.

You wanted freedom...

Creator! Reader who gets found out by the old fisherman as the Creator by accident. You looked at your bleeding hand in horror as it spew out golden blood. The old fisherman quickly grabbed a cloth and wrapped it around your finger.

The old fisherman seemed to connect the pieces together, "So this is why you don't want to go to the city... And why you just popped out of nowhere in the fields..." the old man mumbled. "I- please... Don't tell anyone...!" you cried out. His eyes widened, "Oh! No! Your Grace I would never! But... You're not safe here... There will come a time that you will be found..." The old fisherman sighed.

Creator! Reader who conducted a plan to fake a robbery. The plan was to make it look like you 'stole' from the old man. The old fisherman would report you and you would be sentenced as a thief and banished to the Fortress of Meropide, living in the shadows... Like a ghost.

When your case was being heard, you saw Furina there, that means the traveller hadn't arrived yet... That'll be a problem for you in the future but you brushed it off, promising yourself you'd avoid the traveller like their the black plague.

When you arrived there, Childe was already gone... This was bad... That means the Traveller is coming soon.

It didn't help that you also saw Wriothesley face to face, his observing stare making you nervous... But with how he let you off easily, you don't think he found anything suspicious about you.

Creator! Reader who can't seem to not help Aether and Paimon along with the three siblings, Lynette, Lyney, and Freminet. Always leaving small clues so that they can advance to the story faster, or making sure they don't get hurt or get into an accident. You already knew what the story of Fontaine was but with your current existence... You were unsure if there were some things that'll change.

Creator! Reader who gets found out by Aether...

Your body flinched as he called your name... He knew your name... "You're... Them right...?" He added, you dared not to turn around, getting ready to run away since he hadn't seen your face yet. "You are them... The creator..." he spoke out again, "Please... Don't run away..." he begged as he walked closer to you. You slowly turned around to face him, "...How did you know it was me...?" you asked.

"That... Warmth... That lingering feeling... I felt it. It lead me towards you... I-I thought you were gone, or that you were upset since I hadn't felt you in so long..." He replied as tears rolled down his cheeks, he eventually hugged you, to which you allowed him to. Rubbing his back to comfort him.

Creator! Reader who tells Aether to never tell anyone about you or your existence to which he obliged. You watched everything unfold, from the start to the aftermath of the flood. Everything went well, and not a single soul other than Aether and the old Fisherman know of your existence.

"Everything went well... Neuvillette made sure Furina had an apartment near Palais Mermonia." Aether reported to you, "That's great news." You smiled at him, "Ah! You need to go, people would probably find it suspicious if they found you talking to a random prisoner for no reason." you added to which he nodded, he was about to leave but you stopped him for a moment and gave him a head pat. He was like a younger brother, he blushed and remained standing there for a few seconds, waiting for you to stop.

You let out a small laugh, "Sorry, I got carried away." he only nodded and quickly left, too flustered to even muster a response. You watched him as he left your prison cell.

You then walked towards your bed, looking for your work clothes as you were planning on working again for tickets. You then hear footsteps, you didn't bother turning around as you assumed it was Aether.

"Aether, did you leave something?" you asked, "Aether? You mean the traveller?" you froze... That voice wasn't from Aether... You slowly turned around to see... Wriothesley. You blood ran cold as you stared at him, your mind scrambling as it tried to find words to say.

"You don't have to say anything." He added, slowly walking towards you. "You know... I thought there was something so weird about you... Something about you kept pulling me in and I didn't know why... At first I thought you were just a Fatui spy but now..." he was only a feet away from you now, "I realized that you're them... The creator."

part 2...???

[mournings-stars]

could i have anything with a married vox x reader pleasee? i'm so obsessed with this television it isn't even funny 😭

okay im FINALLY publishing this — in my defense i wrote like five vox x wife!readers after getting this and couldn't decide which to publish to this ask but now yall are getting over protective husband vox cus i love him and now i wanna make an actual fic also i originally read this request as wife!reader so i made reader fem but I'm just now realizing it's married i hope that's okay!!

warning: vox is a little crazy and reader does not care

No one knew Vox was married — and it wasn’t because he wanted to hide you, or he felt ashamed. He could never feel ashamed; you were basically his pride and joy — It was because he couldn’t stand anyone trying anything with you. Especially because of how much he doted on you. Someone could easily see how much he cared and use it against him — they could hurt you, manipulate you, maybe even force you into a soul-binding deal. He couldn’t risk anything happening to you.

That was why you lived very separate lives… Well, not entirely separate. He couldn’t stand letting you work for someone else (they could take advantage of you, or try to flirt with you), and he couldn’t handle being too far away from him during the day, so you worked at VoxTek. You had a job where you never interacted with your husband, and it left your days feeling exceptionally lonely. Especially because he claimed that he “didn’t want to overwork you,” which meant he stayed at the office much later than you did and you were left at home. Alone for most of the night, usually falling asleep before he got there, and waking without him because he went in earlier than you. 

You also had weekends off while he worked a good portion of the day, which let you “go out on the town” of course, but it also left you, again, very lonely. He did email you throughout the day, but that was because no one could see those emails. It was “an outdated form of communication” as he called it, which meant no one looked through them. 

Of course, when you did get to see him, you were ecstatic. He went on and on about how much he missed you all week, subtly asking if anyone had bothered you at all. If they did, they very coincidentally disappeared, so you often told him “no” for the sake of your coworkers’ souls.

And of course, after some time, people did start to bother you. They would get promoted, and get the chance to work with your husband directly, while you stayed exactly where you were and didn’t even get a call from him. That led them to teasing, which turned into snide comments and remarks, which became little “accidents” like spilling hot coffee on you or ruining and deleting your work. 

One day, after someone dumped piping hot coffee all over you, and a very expensive blouse your husband bought, you had enough and backhanded her. 

You were an overlord’s wife, and he gave you everything. Even and especially power. That meant the employee was flung across the room while screens burst and crackled around her, and you were dragged up to Vox’s office. 

“What is it now?” Vox asked when your supervisor knocked on his door, ignoring your wincing as you tried to get the scalding hot coffee-stained blouse as far from your skin as possible. 

“Another low-class bitch ruining our image,” was the response that made you laugh, knowing this person would be dead as soon as they opened the door. 

“Ah…” He sighed, but you knew he was smiling. “Come in.” He was probably going through his weaponry, pulling out just the thing to get rid of the “low-class bitch,” but as soon as the door was opened, you were shoved in front of him, and his weapon went off, you weren’t the one to fall limply to the ground. 

The two employees who opened the door quickly dragged the supervisor away and left you alone in the room. 

As soon as they were gone, he discarded his weapon and went to you. “What happened to you?” He wiped under your big eyes as he cupped your cheeks, which were dry, but he could tell you were upset and he was doing his best not to go out and get rid of everyone in your department. 

“I hit someone,” you said, and he found it adorable. There wasn’t much you could do wrong in his eyes. 

Clearly. 

“What’d they do to make that happen? I’ll kill them,” was his quick response before he cleared his throat. “I mean, I’ll talk to them about it.” His eyes drifted down to your blouse, his screen blinking and hands twitching on your face before they went to your blouse and began unbuttoning. He didn't say anything else, electricity zapping between his fingers as he fumbled with the buttons until he cursed and ripped the blouse open. The buttons clattered to the floor as he muttered, “I’ll get — get — get you a new one,” screen buffering and electricity zapping over his entire body. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” You knew not to tell him how much it burned with the way he was reacting already. “Vox—“

“After I take care of you, you're going to point out who did this, and who watched it happen. Understood?” He knew you tried to spare your coworkers from his temper, but he wasn’t going to let that happen this time. 

“It’s happened before—“ A loud whir of electricity sounded as Vox’s screen flashed and blue jolts of electricity burst around him. You shrunk back at the overwhelming power, quickly telling him, “I’m fine–”

“You didn’t tell me?” His voice sounded electric, making you swallow as he removed his overcoat to use as a towel to pat your chest dry. He couldn’t even enjoy the sight of you at work, topless, when this was the reason. He watched the way you winced with every touch of his jacket on you, fingers sparking at the redness he could see beneath the coat. His body jolted and the overcoat immediately sparked fire. “Fuck!” He tossed it to the ground, stepping on it to put the fire out. 

“You need to relax,” you told him pointedly. “I’m fine. You’re overreacting.”

“You’re underreacting,” he said childishly, taking in a deep breath before going to a closet in the large room and grabbing a spare blouse for you and an overcoat for him. At the sight of the many things he had to give to you and spoil you with in there, he calmed only slightly. “Did you at least hit her hard?” He asked as he handed you the blouse. You hummed, nodding and making a very prideful smile come to his face as you buttoned up the blouse. “Do you like this one?” He asked quickly, his evident mood shift into wanting to please you making you chuckle. “It’s not as expensive as the one that cunt ruined,” you hummed along to satiate his ego, “but I thought you’d make it look good.” Before you could say anything, he continued. “I have some more I got for you; do you want to see those instead?”

“I like this one. You picked it.” His screen buffered as he cleared his throat, a pink glow on his cheeks that he quickly got rid of. When you noticed he began to relax, you took the opportunity of being in his office to your advantage, sweetly asking, “Can we have a moment together before you go down and fire half your company?”

“Anything you want, dear,” he said, much more cheerful than he was moments ago. “Do you want anything to eat? Drink? I’ll call something up.” He went to the desk at the end of the room as you went to the seating area and sat on the sofa. “Where should I order from?”

“Vox, you’re at work. You shouldn’t order anything,” you had to remind him of his own rules he set for himself. “They’ll see me here–”

“Are you wearing your ring?” He asked, speaking over you.

“I’m always wearing my ring.”

He nodded, looking down at his matching golden band. “Let them see.” In the moment you gave him to think, he’d come to the more rational conclusion that he wouldn't harm anyone. Just that he’d terrify them to death by making it known that you were not to be touched ever again. “I’ll make sure everyone knows who they decided to fuck with today.”

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Thinking about playfighting with Rafayel

+ brief sexual content, play fighting, subby rafayel

Your sweet, dramatic friend of a man. Your fights with him normally stay in the verbal arena, where he excels at throwing playful jabs, sassy remarks, the quick teasing nickname, and occasional cocky comment. When he’s smart-mouthed one too many times, oh, that’s when you have to drag him into your arena. It never hurts to teach your Lemurian charge who’s the real boss from time to time.

It never goes far; you think he might be a little too delicate for your full strength. So, you stick to a quick tackle, some torturous tickles, and silly pokes, all in attempts to make his face go a lovely shade of red and hear him beg for mercy. You love when he’d whine your name and plead for forgiveness while the angry pout and glare after would always be the icing on a very much deserved cake.

Sometimes, when he’s in a cheerful mood, he fights back, determined to give you a taste of your own medicine.

It always ends up with you two on the ground in front of his couch. You pin him on his stomach to punish him for defying you, and he tries his best to regain dominance. Even with all his squiggling and wiggling like an octopus out of water, he won’t be able to get you off.

Forcing yourself to lie on top of him and pressing your chest into his back, you ignore his demands for you to let him up, not until he apologizes. Ah, but he never wants to give in right away, and you up your force a little as he tries to flip you over.

Then, there’s a tug.

It’s an accident.

You weren’t entirely paying attention to where your hand was until there’s already wavy purple strands tangled around your fingers and the loud moan that filled the room was already beginning to fade away. It leaves you frozen with Rafayel whose hair is clutched in your hands and whose ears and face are very, very deep red.

This is certainly a first.

“Did you just—” you ask.

“No,” he groans out, but his denial is short lived because you just can’t resist teasing him and seeing that blushing face of his, so obviously, you have to experiment by giving another light tug. It yields the same result: a whine held deep in his throat and the tensing of his legs under you.

“Stop,” he says. “You’re gonna—”

You cut him off with a grunt, already knowing where he was going.

“Turn you on?” You finish for him. “Don't tell me you have a hard on.”

The pout he gives is adorable, his face brightly decorated like a bucket of vermillion paint was dumped on him. He lifts his arm to his face, trying to hide the blush behind his hand, which you take that to mean as a ‘yes’.

“What else do you expect to happen when you do that?” he comments between heavy breathes, and the absolute embarrassment laced in his voice makes a tingle go down your spine as he sputters out lame excuse after excuse – it was reflex, random timing, the rubbing, to try not to get too full of yourself—like he was an inexperienced young man dealing with his first rush of hormones.

All you could hear was your own thoughts whirling faster and faster and the adorably flustered sounds of his voice straining as you repositioned on top of him.

“Round 2,” you whisper then blow against the back of his heated neck, causing him to shudder.

A lightly grumbled “shameless as always,” puffs from behind his trembling hand. But when have you ever led him to believe that you weren’t especially in situations like these?

You squeeze your hand between his stomach and the floor, slowly drawing it down and stopping at his belt. He doesn't fight it, doesn't move even, maybe is silently anticipating this even more than you. Still, you’re not “shameless” enough to not give him a choice in the matter.

“Last chance to tap out, fishie. Apologize,” you warn.

It takes him time to respond, but when he does you can’t resist smirking. He finally asks, “Do you really think I’d give in so easily? Do your worst.”

You nearly laugh. That’s what you thought.

[thatnonameuser]

A Wonderland Of Yanderes

Intro, Part 1,Part 3 here Tagging for the first time @blue-rae18 Minors DNI Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Rape and Non-con but it's a subtle.

You'd bitten your tongue bloody all the way through Crewel's opening lecture. There were so many questions. So many sick and twisted answers.

One class filled you with so much dread

A class about kidnapping, murder and brainwashing some poor innocent soul into Stockholm Syndrome. All shoved underneath the the guise of true love.

A 'darling', the name for someone who was the object of a yandere's unwanted affection. An innocent who spend the rest of their lives living in fear, while someone smothers and controls them with their obsessive love against their will.

And this is all being taught and treated as a normal.

As if it's fine to take someone hostage because you love them.

As if it's fine to kill someone they love if you love them more.

As if it's fine to do unspeakable acts to them and their bodies against their will.

With how much nausea and bile coursing through your stomach and throat it was a miracle you didn't throw in the middle of the lecture.

But that's not what scared you.

What scared you was how bored Ace was as Crewel spoke, how enraptured Deuce looked as he heard about this. How curious some of the other students were about the methods they could use to steal innocent people from their homes, families and lives. How excited some were hearing about some of the ways they would learn about the ways they would use to break the desire for freedom in their future 'partners'.

It was terrifying.

That your friends would kill for someone they love.

Would they kill you?

You don't want to think about that right now. Right now, you needed answers. Fast.

"Crowley! Crowley I need to talk to you!" You shout as you storm in Crowley's office. As soon as the lecture ended you got the hell out of dodge and headed straight to Crowley's office, ready to demand answers.

The door opens to reveal a smiling Crowley, but that doesn't soothe your nerves. "Ah! My dear, what has your feathers ruffled?"

You swallow roughly, "Crowley.......Why didn't you tell me about the fact that I could be........legally murdered here?!"

He tilts his head, "Oh. That must've slipped my mind." You look at him, bewildered.

"I could-" Crowley interrupts you.

"Fear not though. As I am gracious, I already have ensured that will not happen!"

You want to feel relief but you can't, instead suspicion fills you.

"H-How?" According to Crewel's lecture only one crime wasn't pardoned. Darling Murder, and you weren't a darling. You got here on accident and you're not apart of this world so there's no way-

"Crewel was kind enough to inform me of your reaction to his lecture, and I've seen you this past week, how you've tamed your fiery little familiar so quickly." The smile he makes while he speaks fills you with fear, "Only darlings act the way you do~"

"What?"

"As a result, I've had you registered as Darling on and off this island. No one will raise a hand against you." He pauses, "At least not enough to kill you," he laughs at that.

"B-but I'm not from here! What if someone tries to kidnap me, or drug me, or....anything else!? I have a family, friends, and a life back in my home world!" You reason, but Crowley just laughs.

"Ah, the usual darling spiel~ Fear not, I will continue to find a way for you to return home." You feel a sigh of relief bubble into your throat, but before you can release it, what Crowley says next makes your blood freeze.

"But if someone takes you as their own, I cannot and will not try to intervene."

"What!? B-but-"

"I'm afraid after someone stakes their claim, a duel must be done to relinquish that claim to another. You must understand, it would be such a hassle to do every time someone stakes their claim."

"W-wait a second-"

"Of course, I'll leave a way for you to return to your world, but whether you're allowed to leave is another story. You must understand."

"I-I didn't ask to be here, Crowley, you c-can't just-"

"My dear, perhaps the reason the carriage came for you in the first place was for you to belong to another here. Regardless of how you feel about it, my and your hands are tied."

"B-But-"

"Oh, and I should give you fair warning. Many of our students are well aware on the traits a darling like you tend to have. Some may already have their eye on you. Your little friends Ace and Deuce seem to."

You're stunned silent. Ace and Deuce might be, what?

"Y-You're lying...." you whisper.

"I'm afraid not, but as I am gracious I'll inform the ghosts in Ramshackle to keep an eye out for you. They seem to have taken a shine onto you." Why because, you lived with them or because they're obsessed with you too?

What's wrong with this world?

[sukunas-wife]

First, I adore your writing! It warms my soul 🫶🏽♥️

Second, I was wondering if you could do Sukuna x Reader w/ little Yuji asking his dad to help him make a gift for Y/N for Mother’s Day. I think it would be such a cute bonding time between them 💝

Please and thank you if you choose this 🤍

Tysm 🥹 it keeps me warm at night, So does my Sukuna plushie when I don’t knock him off the bed by accident 😭 but Yes! 🥺 I know Valentines isn’t close or far but 😫 The things I’d do for him and Yuji (as a son) on Valentine’s Day 😭😭 I wanna spoil both of them with love🥹 and maybe give Sukuna another kid 🤭

But I hope you like it Little Anon 🤍

“DDAAADDDD” Yuji came running into the living room crying running with a pair of plastic scissors almost impaling his dad. “What is brat?” Sukuna didn’t look too interested, laid back on the sofa, arms behind his head, eyes closed.

“My scissors won’t cut!” He made snipping motions on the paper he was using and sukuna barely opened an eye to watch. Yuji’s already teary eyes watered up as she trembled and sniffled. Sukuna closed his eyes, “Then fold it and tear it, you don’t need scissors to cut paper.”

There Yuji stood, laying the paper on his dads stomach. Sukuna opened his eyes watching how he was crinkling it while he tried to fold it. Failing and failing until he got it right, and tearing it apart slowly, “I did it!” Sukuna had a small smile, bringing a hand to ruffled Yuji’s hair “After half an hour.” Yuji pouted, “I gotta go!” He ran to his room again and sukuna was left with his hand flopping down dragging on the floor. “Hey!” He yelled after Yuji, Yuji popped his head out the door, “yeah?” “STOP RUNNING WITH THOSE DAMN SCISSORS!” “….Okay daddy!”

Sukuna closed his eyes leaning back, he could hear the tearing of paper before he started to nap. Then there was a really loud tear and he choked hearing Yuji’s small voice “damn it!”

“Pssst… psss… pss daddy.” He tried to swat away whatever was touching his face “ddadddyyyy are you awake?….. daddy?”

“What is it now Yuji?” Sukuna didn’t open his eyes. “I needa go…” “Yu.. you have the short toilet you can go if you need to..” “noooo daddy I need to go to the store!” Sukuna sat him with a huff, “alright let’s go. Go get dressed- are we taking the bike?” Yuji's eyes had stars while he looked up at his dad. “Yeah, we’re taking the bike cmon, get ready.” Yuji ran off to his room where Sukuna heard all the sounds of Yuji ripping open the clothes drawers. Grabbing his own jacket he got ready to go out into the cold.

—————-

“Alright what are we looking for…” Sukuna received silence, “Yuji?” He snapped around and there was no Yuji. “Ah shit.”

There went Sukuna trying to speed walk around trying to find his son who he literally brought into the store a minute ago. Finally he found him, in the seasonal section stretching on his tippy toes to get a white tiger plushie that held a white and silver box with a costume glass pearl necklace and earrings. “…what are you doing…?” “Wan it for mommy.” He gave up looking down and pointing at the plushie. Sukuna sighed, “Why do you want it for mom brat it’s not her birthday.” “Because it’s white day daddy! I have to get something for mommy!” He threw his hands up like it was the most obvious thing, unbeknownst to him the entire world was coming crashing down on his dad at that moment.

“I..it’s what?” “White day Daddy! Now hurry, I need that bear!” He went back to jumping and trying to grab it before Sukuna grabbed it shoving it under his arm, and picking up Yuji stuffing him under his other arm, “We gotta hurry-“ Yuji bounced around under Sukuna’s arm while he ande his way to the register, “wait!” Sukuna came to a stop “what?!” “Can I get candy?” Yuji pointed at the candy aisle and Sukuna turned his side to the aisle so Yuji could get what he wanted, “okay… WAIT NO” he grabbed a second candy, “I’m ready.” Sukuna let out heh noise before rushing back to the register, “I gotta pick something up at the shops so we gotta be fast hold on.”

————-

Yuji was standing on a chair at the kitchen table looking at the white Box his dad picked up. “What’s inside?” Sukuna who was focusing on spilling the glitter Yuji wanted on his card was holding his breath to not blow everywhere. Finally he sat up taking a breath, “a gift for your mom, cmon, you wanted to put your hand on this card right?”

“Mhmm!” Yuji hummed running around the table to his dads side barely peeking over the edge, “got the paint?” … “mm…no, gotta find it” Yuji trailed after his dad on the way to his room where they started looking in the closet, in the toy box, under the bed. “Where’s y/n put everything???” Sukuna was knelt face pressed against the floor flashing under Yuji’s bed with his phone’s flash light.

“Oh oh! Top shelf! Mommy doesn’t let me touch the top shelf.” He watched his push a chair over the book shelf and jump in the chair grabbing a thin box, “I touch it anyways.” He smiled proudly and Sukuna just smirked “Oh you little devil mommy would be so disappointed to know her precious little boy plays with the paint when she’s not home.”

Yuji threw the box up, “Please don’t tell mommy! I’ll never do it again!” Sukuna laughed when Yuji started to tear up, “Don’t worry, as long as you don’t tell mommy we ran that red light earlier, grab em and let’s go.” Yuji nodded like he was on a mission, “Kay.”

——

“Daddy you put your hand on first,” Sukuna sighed but pressed his hand into the Paper Yuji worked so hard to cut earlier. “Now let me see your hand Yu, gonna ink you up.”

Yuji laughed uncontrollably at the feeling of the brush on his fingers and palm which lead to Sukuna tickling him. Yuji was laughing until he turned red and started wheezing. Sukuna tried to brush Yuji’s hair back until he smudged him with paint. He cleared his throat to not laugh at Yuji, when he finally sat up catching his breath.. “My hands dry.”

Sukuna snickered, “alright, do it this time.” He carefully painted Yuji’s hand, guiding him to make the print right in the middle of Sukuna’s hand print. “Done!”

He turned to his dad in his lap and placed his hands on his cheeks squishing his face, “Thank you daddy, i love you.” Yuji was smiling, Sukuna smiled and nuzzled his nose against Yuji’s before pressing his lips to the top of his head making a dramatic muah sound making Yuji go “eewww” while laughing. Sukuna laughed while Yuji stared at his face, “I wanna look like daddy.” Which led to the two spending the next hour painting Yuji’s face to have the same inked lines his daddy did. 🥹

———

When you came home you found Sukuna and Yuji in the kitchen. Sukuna was telling Yuji about his “top secret” frying technique and Yuji was standing on a chair looking at the stove watching every move not wanting to miss anything. “mhm mhm” he had no idea what was going on while his dad was talking. You took their picture before Yuji finally turned around “Mommy!” He got so happy slowly sliding off the seat to run over to you, “Happy White day! We got you something!”

“Aww baby you didn’t have too.” Picking him up and kissing him all over he squealed in delight. Setting him down you walked over to Sukuna, he turned to kiss you when he felt you moving in to kiss his cheek. He had that smug smile when you smiled wrinkling your nose at him.

“Look, we made the bag too.” You watched Yuji’s little chubby legs and hands pop around the bag his face hidden behind the wrinkled tissue paper, “Aww its so pretty.” You took the bag from him, it was a white party bag in Yuji’s hand writing with gold marker “we lov you momy.” Covering your smile with your hand you looked at Yuji, “Did it all by myself.” Sukuna tsked “Sure ya did brat, went to the store too and used your whole five dollars too, hm?”

Yuji stuck his tongue out at his dad, “You didn’t give em back so I did pay!” You shook your head smiling when you opened the box, pulling out a white paper card, Sukuna moved closer resting his chin on your shoulder and Yuji pushed up a chair. The was Yuji’s handwriting “We lov you momy” and a wobbly drawn heart. Under it he wrote his name and Sukuna signed his name with a little note “I Love you more ;).” When you opened it it was so cute that you knew Yuji had to have forced Sukuna to do it. Sukuna’s hands were painted red in the shape of a heart, inside were yuji little hands painted white to make a smaller heart.

There was the note in Sukuna’s Handwriting, “These are my hands and with them I will take yours to have and to hold, to love and cherish till death do us part.”

Then there was Yuji’s cute little note, “I know you wipe some away, but these prints were made to stay, So keep them forever, a treasure they'll be, A special I LOVE YOU for you from me.”

The rest of the card was decorated in gold and silver glitters dots and squiggles. Little hand drawn hearts from Sukuna and Yuji. Most of the glitter ended up on the white tiger plushie Yuji ended up taking to sleep with that night 🥹😭

Later that night when Ryo and You were in the room getting ready to sleep when he spoke up. “Sorry we didn’t take you out anywhere fancy. Kinda lost track of time with everything going on…” he paused and you just turned to look at him, “It’s not an excuse but I did get you this.”

You walked over standing between his legs taking the white box from him. He hugged your waist pressing his face against your tummy, you rested your elbows on his shoulders and he heard your small laugh. “I think this was more for you then it was for me.”

You dropped the box next to him holding up the lingerie set. It was white satin with gold hip and shoulder straps covered in crystals. The back of the panties had been customised to say “Ryomen”, all topped off with one of those dramatic lacey robes with even more dramatic feathery cuffs and edges.

He smiled up at you from your tummy with lidded eyes, “maybe…” he kissed your tummy before squeezing your sides. You out a hand on his head brushing his hair back, he had that smug smile that gave you Yuji a few years ago, “So what do you say we really make this a white day?”

Tag: @sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare

[keeryhours]

(not so) silent night - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby Daddy! Rafe

Summary:

You spend Christmas with Rafe and Iris, and Rafe has a surprise for you.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, drinking, mostly a lot of fluff!

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N:

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! I hope you enjoy this little Baby daddy! Rafe story!

—

The lights twinkled brilliantly on the outside of the house, multicolored bulbs lighting up the night. Iris looked on with wide eyes, taking in the sight. It was her first real Christmas where she would kind of understand what was going on.

Rafe climbed down the ladder, walking to the front of the house where the two of you stood. You were still a little unsteady from the accident, but had been healing nicely. You held Iris in your arms.

“How’s it look?” Rafe asked, turning around to look at his work once he’d reached you.

“Pwetty!” Iris exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

Rafe smiled at her, running his fingers through her soft light brown hair. “You like ‘em?”

She clapped again, then reached for her dad. He gladly took her from your arms, and you were glad because it was starting to hurt a little.

“Looks great,” you said, smiling softly at the two of them. Rafe beamed, looking proud of what he’d done. “It’s beautiful. I love it. Thank you for doing this for us.”

“Ah, it’s no problem,” Rafe said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Anything for my girls.”

You technically still weren’t “Rafe’s girl” anymore, but someone would have to tell him that. Since the accident, he’d been around a lot more often. Always looking for ways to help, for excuses to come over. You needed a lightbulb changed, batteries replaced? He was there. It was nice when it came to things like this, when you wanted to decorate the house for Christmas but JJ didn’t feel like doing it for you.

“Ready to go do the tree?” You asked Iris, a big smile on your face.

“Tree!” She said, throwing her arms in the air. Rafe smiled down at her, the look on his face one of pride.

The three of you headed back inside out of the cold. Everything was on the living room floor, ready to put up. The tree was still in its box, the tote full of ornaments and decorations sitting next to it.

Rafe sat Iris down and she skipped over, looking at the stuff as you lifted the lid off the tote. It was filled with ornaments and decorations, some store bought and some handmade.

He pulled the tree out of its box and started setting it up while you sorted through ornaments. He had it put together in no time, then got to work fluffing the branches out.

“Oh my god, remember this?” You asked, bringing out a round clay ornament. Iris’ 6 month old footprints were stamped into it, painted to look like reindeer.

Rafe smiled wistfully, taking the ornament from your hands and examining it. “She was so small.” He hung it on the tree.

You handed Iris some of the round unbreakable ornaments. She took them to the tree and Rafe bent down and helped her hang them on the branches. She dropped them a few times, but eventually got them on and came back for more.

You kept handing her ornaments for her to put on with Rafe’s help. He held her up to help her put some higher on the tree. It was really coming together.

You pulled out one of the last ornaments from the tote, a plastic ball ornament with a picture of the three of you in the hospital inside, along with Iris’ hospital bracelet and hat. You looked at the photo, then at the toddler and the man in front of you. Tears welled in your eyes and your heart swelled in your chest, filling you with so much love for your little family, no matter how unconventional.

Rafe was smiling at Iris, helping her hang another ornament. He turned to look at you, and his smile dropped, seeing the tears in your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You showed him the ornament, and his expression softened. He took it from your hands, looking at the photo up close. It had been the happiest day of both of your lives, despite not being together. Rafe had been amazing, there hadn’t been a single argument. It was just a beautiful experience and it gave you the best gift you ever could have dreamed of.

“She was so tiny,” he mused. “We should have another one.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “I don’t know about all that.”

Rafe laughed. “One of these days you’ll give me another one, huh?”

You blushed, looking back into the tote of decorations and pulling out a long garland. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Rafe smiled even bigger. “I think my odds are pretty good. I gave you a cute one the first time.”

“You did,” you agreed, laughing as you untangled the pine garland. “We’ll see.”

When you were done with the decorations, you held Iris as you looked over the tree. Rafe plugged it into the wall and it lit up with multicolored lights. It looked beautiful. You smiled and Iris clapped her hands together, giggling.

“You like it?” He asked, coming over to join you. “I think it came out pretty good.”

“Looks amazing,” you said honestly. “I love it. Thank you for helping us today.”

Rafe placed a kiss to the top of Iris’ head, then to yours. “I’d do anything for you two.”

—

Christmas Eve came faster than you expected. Rafe was over again, spending the evening with you and Iris. You were all in the kitchen, helping Iris make little balls of cookie dough and place them on the baking sheet.

“Are you ready for Santa to come tonight?” You asked her, watching as she stood on her step stool and smushed the cookie dough in her small hands.

She nodded, although she still didn’t exactly understand. You and Rafe had been telling her about Santa, and she seemed excited, but she was still too young to fully get it.

“There’s gonna be lots of toys,” Rafe told her, which made her whole face light up.

When you were done placing the dough, Rafe took her into the living room to start the movie while you put the tray in the oven.

You walked in to see The Polar Express starting. You were all dressed in matching red Christmas pajamas - it surprised you that you were able to get Rafe to agree, but he didn’t even put up a fight. He had been much different since the car accident, wanting to do anything he could to make you happy.

You snuggled on the couch with Iris between you, watching the movie together. She had never seen it, but she was entranced. She loved the hot chocolate song. It didn’t take long for the cookies to be done baking, so you headed back into the kitchen to take them out and let them cool while they kept watching.

When the movie was over, you all went back into the kitchen to decorate the cookies. You gave Iris her own icing bag, and you were pretty sure more of it ended up in her mouth than on the cookies.

You decorated your cookies in typical Christmas designs, Santa faces and snowflakes and Christmas trees. Iris’ were scribbles of icing. Rafe decorated his with…dicks?

“Rafe!” You scolded him.

“What?” He said, looking at you like he was innocent. “She doesn’t know what they are!”

Before bedtime, you set the cookies on a plate with a glass of milk. Rafe helped you give her a bath and get her dressed for bed, then you both gave her a good night kiss as you left her half asleep in her crib.

You closed the door softly behind you. “I’m so excited for tomorrow,” you whispered.

“Me too.” Rafe followed you down the hall. “I’m sad I have to leave.”

You bit the inside of your lip as you thought. “You don’t have to leave.”

He looked at you, stupid grin on his face. “You don’t want me to go?”

“Not really,” you admitted. JJ was out and you didn’t really want to spend Christmas Eve alone. “We could watch another movie. Have some eggnog.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” He smiled at you again, so softly and with so much love that you felt it in your chest. You returned the look, wanting desperately to reach out and touch him, to kiss him.

You watched Home Alone together, sharing eggnog with rum. You were both feeling a little tipsy by the end of the movie, giggling together and bringing up old happy memories.

“Remember when we took Iris to the store when she was first learning to talk, and that old lady was talking to her?” Rafe laughed. “And Iris just looked at her and said, ‘Shit!’”

You both laughed hard, remembering how hard it had been to get her to stop using that word, especially when you couldn’t stop giggling whenever she did.

“She gets that from you,” you teased, nudging him with your foot in your fuzzy socks.

“Yeah, well,” he said, running a hand over his hair. “She gets a lot from me.”

“That’s true.” You couldn’t stop smiling. You hadn’t felt this happy in ages.

Rafe rubbed your legs resting in his lap. “You’re so beautiful.”

The words caught you off guard, and you blushed furiously. “Stop.”

“I mean it. I’ve always meant it.” He looked at you, so much swimming behind his eyes. “You are seriously the most beautiful girl on the island. Well, next to Iris.”

You laughed again. “True. Iris is the most beautiful girl on the island.”

Rafe moved your legs off his lap, scooting closer to you. He placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb gently caressing the skin. Then he was leaning in and your eyes were fluttering closed and his lips were on yours.

Your heart beat hard in your chest as he kissed you. His touch on your face was like electricity, sending shivers through your body. His lips moved against yours slowly at first, the kiss gentle and full of love. You pulled him closer, kissing him a little more eagerly now.

He pulled you onto him so you were straddling his lap, never breaking the kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, moving against your own as you moaned into the kiss. You rolled your hips down against him and he groaned, you could feel how hard he was getting already.

His hands moved down to your hips, guiding you to keep grinding against him. “Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he said, a little breathless from the frantic kissing. He kissed the corner of your lips before trailing down your jawline and to your neck. You tilted your head, giving him access to do whatever he wanted. He placed gentle kisses there first before nipping at your skin, making you moan as he started to suck on the spot.

“Let’s go to my room,” you said, eyes closed and head tilted back as he worked at your neck.

You didn’t have to tell him again. Rafe grabbed your thighs and stood, lifting you easily as you squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck. You kissed him again as he carried you down the hall and to your bedroom, dropping you down on your soft mattress.

He pulled his pajama top over his head, revealing his toned chest. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but he was already reaching for you, hooking his fingers in the waist of your pajama pants and pulling them down, tossing them away. He ran his hands up your smooth legs, feeling all over.

His hands trailed up until he was pushing your top up, lifting it off and getting rid of that, too. You hadn’t had a bra underneath, wanting to be comfortable tonight. Rafe placed kisses all over your chest, his tongue sliding over one of your nipples and making you gasp. He took it into his mouth, sucking on it as his hand pinched at your other one. You arched your back into his mouth - you were soaked already.

He moved his mouth to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. You moaned, fingers trailing over the muscles of his back. “Feels so good, Rafe.”

Rafe hummed, not stopping for a second. He began kissing down your body slowly, down your stomach and to the waistband of your panties. He pulled them down tantalizingly slowly, then spread your legs for him, laying between your legs.

“I’ve been wanting to taste you all night,” he murmured, two of his fingers spreading your folds as he licked a stripe along your pussy. You cried out, hands tangling in the bed sheets as he sucked at your clit, his tongue doing all the things to you he remembered you loved.

He pushed a finger into you, and you writhed beneath him as he began pumping it into you, before quickly adding a second finger, curling them deep inside so they pressed right against that spot he knew made you fall apart.

“Rafe!” You cried, your hips grinding up against his mouth as he devoured your pussy like he’d been starving for it. “Fuck, ohmygod, feels so good.”

Rafe groaned against you, moving his fingers faster as he licked at your pussy, tasting every bit of your wetness. He was determined to make you cum on his tongue and fingers, and your release was building fast.

“‘m so close,” you whined, wishing his hair was longer again so you could pull on it like you used to. “Please please don’t stop.”

“Go on and cum for me, baby,” Rafe said, before moving right back to bury his face in your pussy. He wrapped his lips around your clit again, sucking gently as he moved his tongue over it.

Your orgasm crashed into you hard, you rolled your hips up against his mouth over and over as you came. “Rafe! Rafe, oh fuck, Rafe-“

“That’s it, baby, good girl,” he praised, fingers still pressing right against that spot that was making your orgasm feel neverending. “You look so pretty when you cum for me.”

He didn’t remove his fingers until you had completely come down, then he was kissing up your body again, his face hidden in your neck as he kissed and sucked at the skin there again.

“Want you so bad,” you whined, rolling your hips up against the erection in his pajama pants.

Rafe sat up, pushing his pants and boxers down, his cock already painfully hard. You looked at it hungrily, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you right that second.

You trailed your hand slowly over his chest, making his cock twitch as his eyes fell closed. “I like it when you touch me like that.”

“Yeah?” You felt all over, his muscles flexing beneath your touch. “You’re so hot.”

Rafe laughed, leaning over your body again. “You’re the sexiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He kissed you, tongue dipping into your mouth again. You could taste yourself on him.

He lined himself up at your entrance, then pushed inside, slowly. It had been a while since you’d slept together, and Rafe was big. He knew to take it gently with you.

You whined as he pushed inside, the feeling intense but incredible. He bottomed out inside of you, groaning into your neck.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he gritted out, taking every bit of self control in his body to not immediately start pounding you senseless. “Feels so fucking good.”

“You can move,” you told him, needing to feel him filling you over and over again. “Want you to fuck me.”

Rafe groaned again at your words, but immediately obeyed, pulling out until only his tip remained and then rolling his hips back into you. You both moaned at the feeling, your back arching as he filled you so deeply.

He set a slow pace at first, fucking you slow and deep. Making love, even.

He looked into your eyes as he thrusted into you slowly and deliberately, cock pressing against the bundle of nerves inside you again. It felt amazing. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Your heart felt like it could burst out of your chest. “I love you too, Rafe.”

“I mean it. I love you so fucking much.” He kissed you deeply, conveying all the emotions he was feeling through it.

“I love you too, I love you too,” you told him, feeling like you could cry but holding it back because it would be incredibly embarrassing to start crying during sex.

Rafe smiled at you, kissing you again. You began rolling your hips up against him, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him into you with every thrust. He groaned louder, speeding up his pace.

“Fuck- babe, not gonna last long,” he said, reaching down and gripping onto your thigh, holding it up towards your chest. “You feel too good.”

“I want you to cum in me,” you said quietly, trying to keep it down to not wake Iris. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he said, his hips speeding up even faster. “Fuck yeah. Gonna cum in you so fucking deep.”

“Please,” you begged again, your eyes closing as the pleasure overtook you again. “Oh, fuck, I’m so close again.”

“Come on baby, cum for me again,” he encouraged you, reaching down to rub circles on your clit. You gasped, pussy clenching around his cock as you came again. He slapped his hand over your mouth at the last second, keeping you quiet.

“Shh, baby, not too loud tonight,” he whispered into your ear. He buried his face in your neck again as his moans got breathier, more uncontrolled. He thrusted into your tight heat a few more times before he stilled, cumming inside of you as he gripped onto your thigh and buried his sounds in your body.

He pulled out, rolling onto the bed next to you. You cuddled up into his side and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you even closer. “I love you,” he said again.

“I love you too,” you told him. “Stay with me?”

“Of course,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

—

You were more excited than anyone on Christmas morning. You woke Rafe up, shaking him from his sleep.

“Rafe, wake up! It’s Christmas!”

He woke with a groan. “What time is it?”

You checked your phone. “It’s 8am.”

“What the fuck.”

You laughed. “Rafe, it’s Christmas. Santa came.”

He uncovered his eyes, giving you a look. “You know we’re Santa, right?”

You rolled your eyes, throwing the blankets off of you and standing up. “Come on, have some fun.”

You both dressed back in your Christmas PJs (after not bothering to put anything back on last night). In the kitchen, you and Rafe ate some of the cookies to make it look like Santa had been by. You set the Santa presents under the tree, then went to get Iris.

“Good morning, baby girl,” you said as Iris sat up in her crib, rubbing her eyes. She smiled when she saw both you and Rafe.

Rafe lifted her from her crib and you walked into the living room together. JJ was still asleep, but you’d do his presents later. Iris gasped as you walked in, seeing all the presents under the tree. There were about a million, mostly thanks to Rafe. “Present!”

“That’s right,” Rafe said, sitting her down. “They’re all for you.”

Her eyes lit up and she scrambled over to the tree. You and Rafe joined her on the floor as she opened gift after gift. Dolls, coloring books, art supplies, clothes, stuffed animals, toys, anything she could have dreamed of. She was equally excited about everything, squealing as she opened each present.

After presents were opened, Rafe helped her open the toys and set them up while you prepared breakfast. JJ got up by the time it was ready, and all four of you sat down to eat together.

JJ took Iris back into the living room to play while Rafe helped you clean up. After the dishes were done, you leaned against the counter, breathing a deep sigh. “Feels like all this craziness and then it’s over so fast.”

Rafe chuckled. “Yeah, I get what you mean.”

“At least we’ve gotten through the presents.”

“Actually,” Rafe said. “I have one for you.”

You looked at him, eyebrows raised. “You got me something?”

“Of course. Wait here.” He went back into the living room, then came back with a small wrapped box. You tentatively took it from his hand, looking at him suspiciously.

“It’s not an engagement ring,” he said, laughing.

You breathed out a sigh - you weren’t ready for that yet. You weren’t even together. You unwrapped the gift to find a blue Tiffany & Co box. You looked at him with wide eyes, and he smiled, nodding for you to open it.

You opened the box to find a Tiffany solitaire diamond necklace. You gasped - it was beautiful, the diamond brilliant and clear, and it was too much.

“Rafe, you shouldn’t-“

“Stop,” he said. “I wanted to. And you deserve it. You’re an amazing mom, an amazing co-parent…” he pushed your hair over one of your shoulders. “A beautiful woman.”

He took the necklace from the box and stepped behind you. He clasped it around your neck, placing a kiss on your neck when he was done. Your hand went to touch the beautiful diamond resting on your chest now. You were starting to tear up again as he moved around to face you.

“Thank you,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “This is amazing. I’ll cherish it forever.”

“Good.” Rafe smiled. He fixed your hair, ran his thumb over your cheek to wipe a stray tear away. “There’s just one thing I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“I…” He took a deep breath. “Look. I love you. I know I’ve said it a lot lately, but I hope you know I really mean it, with my whole heart. I love you. And I want you to be my girlfriend again. I want us to be official.”

“Rafe…”

“I know, our relationship before was shitty, I know.” Rafe grasped both your hands in his larger ones, looking you in your eyes. “But I’m different now. I swear to you. I want the best for you and Iris and all of us. I want to be with you again. We can take it slow, I don’t care. I just can’t stand you not being mine anymore.”

The tears were fully flowing now. He wiped them away, which only made them come faster. “Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend again.”

Rafe smiled, his whole face lighting up at your words. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you laughed through your tears. “Really.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, his lips pressing to yours with so much love you could feel it through your whole body.

You rejoined JJ and Iris in the living room. JJ eyed your hands joined together, but didn’t question it. You cuddled up on the couch with Rafe while your twin brother and your daughter played on the floor. Your little family was together and happy again.

It was something like a Christmas miracle.

[revelboo]

I just want to say I absolutely love your writing, especially the Starscream pet ones. They're so cute and comforting! Please, keep up the amazing work!!

Thank you! At some point, I’ll gather up all the disjointed bits into a more coherent fic. A lot of the Soundwave x Reader and the non-Lost Light Megatron x Reader goes with the Starscream snippets. They’re just not necessarily in the right order since I’m using Tumblr to quickly jot down scenarios as they occur to me.

Everything is Alright Pt 12

Starscream x Reader- stars

• Outside. Fresh air smelling faintly of pine and green things. And, most importantly, outside. Keeping a palm pressed against the warm metal flesh of Starscream’s neck, you tip your head back fighting a grin. The moon’s just a sharp sickle, but there are so many stars overhead. Little specks of beauty amid the darkness. After staring at the four gray walls of Starscream’s quarters for who knew how many weeks, the stars are even better. Before, you’d never bothered to really look. Now you can’t tear your eyes away.

• “Stop squirming. You’re going to fall,” Starscream snaps as you just breathe and enjoy it. Because this field trip will end with you right back in Starscream’s quarters as something you’re not sure of. A friend, a pet, a captive? All three? Who knew. But right now? You’re free. Sorta.

• “Likelihood of falling: sixty-two percent,” Soundwave adds from where he’s trailing behind Starscream, having invited himself along from what you can tell. When you adjust your grip so you can lean back and glower at the other mech, he just stares impassively right back. “Seventy-four percent.”

• Resisting the urge to stick your tongue out, you know his worry isn’t exactly misplaced. When you’d pled to not be carried cupped in Starscream’s palms, you’d underestimated how hard it would be to keep your balance on a moving surface. Every time he stops you almost pitch face first off his shoulder. While you’re almost certain he’ll catch you before you hit the ground, you’d rather not find out the hard way.

• Primus, but you can’t be still? Denta grinding, Starscream slows to a stop, hand lifting in case you almost slide off. Again. The overlook is far enough out they won’t be spotted by humans or Autobots, a secluded place he’d discovered completely by accident and a place he visits while on patrol. Where he can just be without the war looming or being on guard. Normally. Venting as Soundwave looks around, he toys idly with the idea of trying to shove the other mech off the cliff.

• Your little hand is warm and soft on the protoarmor of his neck distracting him as you slowly stand up on his shoulder. He watches you, your face tipped up toward the night sky, skin limned in ruddy light from his optics. “Where I lived in town, there were streetlights,” you say, soft voice drifting over him. “I couldn’t really see the stars.”

• There’s a wistfulness in your words, that stings. Makes him wonder if under all those smiles you give so freely, you resent him for keeping you. If the tables were turned, he’d idle away his time in plans of escape and revenge. “Yes, well,” he murmurs, aware of Soundwave nearby listening. Looking for weakness he can exploit, no doubt. “Good behavior should be rewarded.”

• Ah, there it is. Those gruff words make your smile falter. He hasn’t brought you here because it was a nice thing to do, but because he’s reinforcing good behavior. It shouldn’t still hurt, but it does. Because maybe you were thinking of him as a friend. That just maybe he thought a bit more of you than just a pet. Or a bargaining chip. And there goes your heart, racing even as it cracks just a bit. How were you so stupid? Of course you’re not friends. How could you be?

• Venting softly, Starscream almost misses the soft sound of your breathing change. You’re still staring at the stars, but you’re leaking now, moisture streaming silently from your eyes. Lost, he glances at Soundwave, because this is new. And he doesn’t like it at all.

Previous Next

[eggtargaryenii]

EAST OF THE SUN | PART IV

 “Aemond has always been very jealous over you," Jace said doubtfully. "And protective.” “Not because he wants to bed me,” you dismissed, sipping on your wine. “I was his only friend for a long time, so naturally he likes to hoard my company. And he likely is only so protective of me because he thinks of me as a kind of elder sister to him.” “Ah—so you mean he wants to bed you and wed you.” You choked on your drink, giving Jacaerys a scandalised look.

7k words, aemond x fem!reader x jacaerys. childhood friends to lovers (except it's cousins), political drama. chapter warnings for targaryen incest and themes of xenophobia/racism and misogyny. dividers from @/cafekitsune.

SERIES SUMMARY & MASTERLIST.

XII. FIVE OF SWORDS

You did not really know what to think of Rhaenyra Targaryen.

On a political level, you did not think highly of her. Once you were old enough to understand your role in court—that is, a womb to be eventually traded in return for gold or swords or support—you became confused with Rhaenyra’s behaviour. She married Ser Laenor Velaryon and then immediately began to fornicate with another man, which was fine. But it was strange that she chose a man with fair skin and dark hair for her paramour, rather than someone who looked more like Ser Laenor, and it jeopardised her standing in court. It felt silly to you, and was one of the reasons why, at the tender age of ten, you vowed to marry a handsome lord who was inclined to desire women: if you were too busy being happily bedded by your husband, then you would not have the time or wherewithal to lay with another man and give birth to any bastards. (Certainly, you would not be interested in having any affairs if Cregan Stark was your lawful husband.)

On a personal level, you misliked Rhaenyra. You had never forgiven her for Aemond’s eye. As a child you had been furious at turns with Jace, Luke, and Aemond for the debacle, but as an adult you could not fault three children for an accident. What you did fault was Rhaenyra’s actions following it: treating Aemond’s eye like it was an afterthought to the bastardy talk, as if her son had not just irreversibly rendered him half-blind. As if Aemond did not lay feverish in bed for weeks after, as if he did not need to spend months retraining his body to his altered vision, as if he were not twice as vulnerable to attacks from bullies and swords and morningstars. As if he did not need to live with the knowledge that his very body was a disposable thing to his father, something that could be overlooked so long as Rhaenyra’s claim could be protected.

No—you did not like Rhaenyra.

You were certain that Rhaenyra did not feel so poorly about you, however. She never concerned herself with you when you were a child, and you did not fault her for it: you were not close in age, and she was heir apparent to the throne. She mostly knew you as someone whom Jace had befriended, and she liked you for it. Occasionally she would invite you to dinner with them in the Small Hall, or let you break your fast with her family. Sometimes she would talk with you then, and humour your questions about the Small Council (Do they know where my father is? Will they banish me from the Red Keep? Is the Hand really going to betrothe me to an old man?), and sometimes she would look at you with something close to pity.

Rhaenyra probably did think well of you. Still, it felt like an obvious lie when she called you into her chambers the day after your father’s funeral and said, “You know I have always been very fond of you.”

“Thank you, Princess,” you said graciously, immediately. “I have always been so grateful for your kindness, and especially for allowing me to spend time with Jacaerys.”

She smiled at you. You returned it, careful not to let the wariness show in your eyes.

“It was the least I could do. I owed it to your father—he was very kind to me. He would sail back from Lys and bring me trinkets, and I loved them so. I do not think Prince Daemon liked the attention he gave me, however.”

You shuddered to think of the suggestion of romantic jealousy between Daemon, your father, and Rhaenyra. You truly would walk into the sea if she disclosed a sordid relationship between herself and your father right now.

Outwardly, however, you only gave her a sentimental look. “I had never known that. Were the two of you close?”

“He was often away from King’s Landing, so I knew him not well—but I knew him well enough. And my husband, of course, was fond of him.” She smiled. “Now that your father is gone, Daemon and I feel that it is only right that we care for you.”

You did not comment on the fact that your father had been gone for nearly ten years already. “Oh,” you said, your eyes growing hot as you remembered to cry. The tears were easy to summon and mostly from frustration at knowing that your father’s death was being used in these petty games of court, but Rhaenyra need not know that. “That's—that’s very kind of you.”

“I know Jacaerys is very fond of you too,” she continued. “If you need to continue leaning on him, know that I will be happy to see it.”

“Of course.” You wiped your eyes. “I am ever so thankful for his help during my petition. And your husband’s too. It is a kindness I cannot repay.”

“As I said, it is only right.” Rhaenyra gave you a long look, then seemed to make a decision. She reached for something on the table beside her, then placed a velvet box in front of you. “Please—take this.”

Your look of surprise was genuine when you opened it. Inside was a pair of earrings—from the rippling sheen of the reflected light, Valyrian steel, so dark that it was nearly black. Rubies glimmered among the delicate metalwork, a bold red. You knew only of one person who had ever worn jewellery like this: “My mother’s?”

“Not quite, but close. Your father brought it back from one of his trips to Lys and gifted these to me, but I have not had much chance to wear them as of late—they are a young person’s jewels.” She gave you a look that was distinctly motherly, which made you feel distinctly uncomfortable. “I feel that it is only right that these go to you, rather than being wasted on my vanity.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “Thank you, Princess.”

You had a feeling where she would be going with this.

“It would be a great honour to me,” she said, “if you were to wear these at the upcoming feast.”

It was with great effort that you did not sigh.

“Of course, Princess.”

XIII. TWO OF SWORDS

There was nothing less you wanted to do than to attend the banquet meant to precede the next day’s tourney. This reluctance had less to do with the loss of your parents (though that was undeniably a factor; you were still looking forward to the day you could crawl into the dragon pit and wail in solitude) and more to do with the dread of navigating the court. Within the Red Keep, wearing the wrong colour dress to sup alone could earn you the ire of half the castle; choosing the wrong one for this banquet could quite literally kill you.

Alicent expected you to wear green, as would the Tyrells. Rhaenyra expected you to wear her earrings, which were obviously meant to be paired with black and red. It would insult one faction or the other if you did not respect their wishes, but at this point, you also had no desire to align yourself with either. Rhaenyra had not convinced you of her cause, and if you played too nicely with the Hightowers now then they would take that as a sign that they could further abuse you as they pleased in the future.

On the other hand, you did not want to offend anyone too much. Cultivating a relationship with the blacks might be useful in the future, though your greatest concern was the Hightowers—neither your coin in Braavos nor the power of your dragon could save you if the Hand decided to poison you. That could be a very real risk as you currently had no heir. Should you be killed, the money in the Iron Bank would fall to your next of kin: King Viserys on paper; Alicent Hightower in practice.

No, you could not openly antagonise the Hightowers. However, appalling them? Probably fine. Alicent already found you appalling on a daily basis, and the Hand made it no secret that he was happy to write you off as the daughter of a foreign bed slave whenever it was convenient. You were sick of it. If they were going to accuse you of being a whore, then let them suffer the shame of having raised one.

When you walked through the heavy oak doors into the Great Hall, a hush fell over all the lords and ladies present. A few noblewomen covered their open mouths with their hands, emphasising their shock and disapproval. It was already difficult not to laugh at them, but you almost barked when you saw Jace’s reaction to what you were wearing: he very clearly choked on his wine and nearly spat it out. The sudden flush on cheeks probably was not from the Arbor gold, either. You winked at him, hoping Alicent would notice.

Rhaenyra, sitting next to him, seemed amused at the Queen’s own scandalised expression. Of all the King’s party present, you greeted her first, curtsying as best as you could in your delicate, green silks. Lysene clothing was really not made for Westerosi customs, you thought; there was not a lot of material around your waist to lift, as most of it was cut to reveal your thighs, and the view it gave of your décolletage as you bowed the was… well, it did not leave much to the imagination. Nor did any other part of the dress. The silk was so sheer that it revealed far too much when the light struck it a certain way.

“What an interesting choice of dress,” Rhaenyra remarked, the corner of her mouth lifting. Her gaze caught on the rubies dangling from your ears; you smiled.

“I chose to wear Lysene silks today to match the earrings you gifted me, Princess,” you said. “The dress was from my mother’s old wardrobe. The colour clashes a bit with the red, but it was all I had on hand, I'm afraid.”

“I’m sure.” She seemed neither convinced or upset. “Well, both the earrings and the dress look beautiful on you, my dear. Wouldn't you say so, Jacaerys?”

Jacaerys composed himself quickly enough, but you noticed that he was careful to look only at your face as he spoke. Still, he composure had returned when he replied, “You look very lovely tonight, my lady. I shall need to ask you for a dance later.”

“I look forward to it. Come find me when it pleases you, my prince.” You curtsied again, turned away, and tried not to cackle at the expression that Jace made when he realised just how much leg your dress showed. You were fairly certain that Rhaenyra was herself trying not to laugh at her son's expense, smiling into her goblet as she watched his reaction.

Alicent, on the other hand, did not seem nearly so amused.

“You… Lyseni,” she said, managing to make a very neutral word sound incredibly pejorative, “have very unusual styles of dress.”

“I would not know. Having been born in King’s Landing, I am unfamiliar with Lysene styles as a whole, my Queen,” you replied calmly. “This dress is from my mother’s old wardrobe. It was the only green dress I owned—you know I do not wear the colour much.”

“I would have been happy to have had a dress made for you,” she said, voice tight. “You are our kin, after all. We are happy to ensure that members of the royal family dress as royals should.”

“I did not want to burden the Crown’s coffers, as I know they are limited,” you parried, and Alicent’s expression nearly put you in stitches. “Is my betrothed here tonight, my Queen? I should like to finally meet him, if he is.”

Part of you had hoped that this outfit would disgrace you too much for an introduction to the great house of the Reach. You were even hopeful for it when Alicent advised her father that you were not dressed suitably for a formal introduction, but the Hand insisted on it. In the end, Alicent had you meet Lady Tyrell at the behest of her father.

Lady Tyrell seemed an interesting woman. She served as the regent of Hightower given her son Lord Lyonel’s young age. Apparently significantly less pious than the Queen, Lady Tyrell took your appearance in stride.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” she said after a curtsy. “I saw your petition in the throne room a sennight ago, and I could not help but ask for an introduction after that… you are a very eloquent speaker. I am sorry to hear about your father, by the way. I recall it was said he was a diplomat in Lys and that your mother was a woman of the Lysene court—is this dress something of hers?”

Woman of the Lysene court. You liked the way Lady Tyrell talked, as well as her values: apparently irreligious. You wondered what she and her house wanted from you. If she saw you during the petition, it was most likely all the gold you were arguing over. Highgarden was not short of wealth, but they always wanted more for it.

“It was indeed left behind by my mother before she returned to Lys,” you replied. “And I thank you for your kind words. Everything I know, I have learned from the Queen—she took my education into her own hands after my father passed, you see…”

The two of you exchanged pleasantries with one another. You painted an image of Alicent that had her in the golden light of the Seven and wearing a halo; the Queen’s posture relaxed visibly as she listened from nearby. When it came time for you to meet Arthur Tyrell, though, you noticed her stiffen again.

Ser Criston next to her also bristled. His eyes were heavy on Ser Arthur. He was startlingly handsome with his Tyrell features (though not as handsome as any Stark men, you noted), with a full head of mahogany curls and honey brown eyes that nearly shone gold at times in the chandelier light. He had a charming, playful smile that you did not see very much in your circles. Jace was too serious to make that sort of expression, Aemond too frightening, and Aegon too slovenly.

Most importantly, though, Arthur seemed not to mind your dress, taking you without hesitation to the dance floor.

“I was not told my betrothed would be so beautiful,” he said.

“And I was not told mine would be so handsome,” you replied swiftly, deciding to humour him. Then you added, wanting to know why Ser Criston seemed so disdainful of him, “Though I have heard tales of his bravery in the Marches.”

“Exaggerations, I'm sure,” he replied.

“Then I would like to hear the truth of it from the man himself.”

Arthur was humble, yet glib of tongue. He replied to all your questions respectfully, but not without a little flirtation or humour, and always with charisma. You found yourself frustrated: you could not tell how such a charming and well-accomplished man had earned the ire of Ser Criston. His only damning trait seemed to be that he was a bastard, which you could not care less about.

It seemed that you could only get the truth from the white cloak himself. When you were nearly about to signal for Ser Criston to ask you for a dance—the two of you had such a protocol, for times when you were made to dance with some lecher and Aemond was not around to extract you—when the one-eyed prince himself instead came to your aid.

“Pardon the interruption, Ser Arthur,” a familiar voice said behind you, “but I would like to trouble my cousin for a dance.”

“Of course, my Prince,” the knight replied, and he handed you off to Aemond gracefully. Once you were in Aemond’s arms, he nodded at Ser Arthur, his mouth curling into a kind of smile. You could not decide if his expression was handsome or unsettling. Certainly, it was not friendly.

“You do not like him,” you said in Valyrian, as Aemond led your feet across the marble floor.

He brought you close to him before he replied, in the same language, “I do not like him being around you. I spoke with Ser Criston and found his background… troubling.” Aemond had you twirling, the sheer silks around your waist swaying with your movements. “The knowledge makes me worry about the way he was looking at you.”

Your brow arched. “He looks at me the way that most men have looked at me my entire life.”

“I do not like it when most men look at you.”

A laugh. “So many japes from you lately!” The two of you circled one another as a lute sung delicately. “Well, why do you dislike the gaze of this man? Tell me about the crimes of my betrothed—I shall soon die from suspense if you do not.”

Aemond brought you close. Your hand on his chest, his lips against your ear, he said, “The man raped and pillaged towns in the Dornish Marches. Some of the worst crimes Ser Criston has ever seen in battle—an offence to the Seven, he said.”

Your expression fell. Aemond led you along in the dance, not allowing you to stop—likely remembering the watching crowd. He kept his face so near to yours; it took a moment to realise he was hiding the shock in your eyes from the gazes of others.

After a long moment, you remembered yourself, and you began to think of all the implications. It now made sense that Lady Tyrell did not care about your choice of dress: it was fine that you were a harlot, as she meant to marry you to a raper. What confused you, though, was that Queen Alicent had so readily agreed to the match as well: she may have disapproved of whores, but she openly despised rapers and felt they should all be gelded, just as the Seven-Pointed Star commanded.

“Does your grandsire know?” you asked, moving deftly around your partner. “Your mother?”

“I cannot say for certain,” Aemond said, “but I suspect they do.”

You nodded, tried not to look too grave as you said, “I will find a way out of this marriage.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Tyrells watching the two of you. You pressed yourself against Aemond, likely more intimately than any dance would warrant, so that you could whisper into his ear. “Were you serious about finding a means to avoid my betrothal?”

“Not only serious—I have already planned it.” Aemond smiled in his unsettling, handsome way once more. “Play along in the morrow. Remember: Any consequences will not befall you.”

What consequences? you meant to ask—but then you were interrupted.

“Pardon me,” a new voice said in the Common Tongue, and the both of you broke apart to see Jacaerys. “I wanted to make good on my promise to dance with my cousin.”

It was a command, not a request. Aemond studied him for a moment, and you wondered for a moment if they would begin to posture with each other, but he then acquiesced.

“Of course, nephew,” Aemond replied. He then switched to Valyrian: “Take care not to pass her off to any untoward characters. I'd rather her stay even in your hands than certain others. Bring her to me once you are done.”

Your cousin gave you a long look, his single eye glinting strangely. He brought your fingers up, and you did not realise what he was doing until his lips were pressed chastely against your knuckle. You stared blankly at the foreign sensation, at the soft touch of his mouth against your skin, unable to comprehend what was happening. But the realisation came only a moment later, suddenly and violently:

Aemond Targaryen was kissing your hand.

You nearly jerked back. What are you doing? you wanted to ask, but Aemond did not give you much time before turning to leave, smiling as he retreated to the high table.

You gave him a bewildered look as he disappeared into the crowd. Jacaerys, himself, seemed equally surprised. As he took your hand into his, he began questioning you: “Did I misunderstand,” he asked quietly in the Common Tongue, “or did my uncle just entrust you to me?”

Your speech remained in Valyrian: “You understood correctly, though you may have missed the backhanded insult. I believe he doesn't want me back in the arms of my betrothed. Aemond and Ser Criston mislike the man.”

“Do they?”

“Yes. Or, well—it is more like they abhor him.” You were uncertain if Jace knew the words for ‘rape’ or ‘pillage’ in Valyrian, so you adopted the Common Tongue once more, smiling brightly: “Nevermind all of that. We can talk later, when we are somewhere more… private.”

Multiple eyes glanced away, eavesdroppers averting you now that they'd been caught. You figured that those around you thought you were speaking of the kiss, and not of the reputation of Ser Arthur. Certainly, Queen Alicent must have, for her jaw was so tight and angry that she could have only been thinking of her son’s open favour toward you, or perhaps the betrothal that he just put into jeopardy. You supposed it was also a particularly sordid sight for her given the new whispers surrounding you: Jacaerys was said to have carried you back to your room in the early hours of the morning a few days ago. To anyone who believed the rumour, it must have looked to some like you were seducing both princes, their hearts in your cruel thrall even though you were now betrothed to a Tyrell. Luckily for you, however, the whisper had come from a kitchen maid who was a reputed liar: even though it was true, most were sceptical of the tale.

Alicent likely believed them, though, for she had given you a long lecture about preserving your innocence for your betrothed during your last meeting, followed up by an implication that there were ways in which one could feign virginity on a marriage bed should they have fallen into sin before their wedding night. She alluded to the old trick of staining one’s sheets with chicken’s blood while their groom was distracted. Though you were not offended at her belief that you had ruined yourself, you were offended at her belief that you would be stupid enough to jeopardise a marriage in this way. Using chicken’s blood was good enough for commoners, but it hardly worked for noblewomen. Septas and maesters would not be fooled by such a lazy deception, and you were both well-aware of it.

Thinking of the conversation made your head pound, so you turned to your only solace at a time like this: “Would you like to sit and have some wine, Jace? I have not yet tried the Arbor gold.”

“Of course.” Jace took your hand in his, led you to the high table at the front of the hall. A maid promptly approached with goblets and wine, which you were glad to drink, hoping for the sweet oblivion of complete inebriation. Jace’s brow lifted as he watched you.

“I did not know that you had grown into such a drinker.”

“Only during banquets,” you said dryly. “I find that I cannot otherwise endure them.”

“How ironic,” Jace remarked. “This is my first in the Red Keep, and I find myself envying you for having attended so many.”

You were startled as you realised that the Crown Prince, of all people, had neither attended a tourney nor a banquet in King’s Landing solely because of the petty infighting in his family. “Sorry,” you said immediately. “I’d forgotten this was your first feast here. I’ll try to be better company.”

“You are always good company,” Jace reassured you, “though I would enjoy a proper dance with you later. We’ve never danced together before, you know—I meant it when I said I would want one.” He smiled, and you felt your stomach flutter in a dangerous way.

Crown prince, crown prince, crown prince, you repeated silently, trying to remind yourself that you could absolutely not become besotted with the heir to the throne. If Jacaerys were to be the object of your longing (a futile one, for it was an impossibility that you could ever marry him), then you would never find a lord for yourself whom you could be happily bedded by. There was not a single noble man in the Realm who had a face that could compete with his—not even Cregan Stark!

“I'm not a very good dancer,” you remembered to reply. “I may step on your feet.”

“You seemed fine with my uncle.”

“Only because he's strong at leading. It isn’t unlike swordplay, which he excels at.” You sighed. “It is a wonder that I did not embarrass myself in front of Ser Arthur.”

Jace gave the Tyrell a sidelong glance, contemplative. “I have heard from the Queen that he is now your betrothed,” your cousin said, “which I imagine must make my uncle unhappy, as he clearly wants to bed you.”

You gave Jace a tired look. “Many people believe that I am Aemond’s lover, but I can assure you that the assertion is false.”

“That kiss did lead me to believe that he would prefer it to be true.”

“I would not pay it any mind. A kiss on the hand is a simple enough courtesy, not necessarily a sign of courtship. And even if it was unusual for him, he is likely only plotting something.” Something that the Queen will hate as much as the Tyrells, you supposed.

“Plotting something, or acting on a lifelong desire?” He studied you carefully. “Aemond has always been very jealous over you. And protective.”

“Not because he wants to bed me,” you dismissed, sipping on your wine. “I was his only friend for a long time, so naturally he likes to hoard my company. And he likely is only so protective of me because he thinks of me as a kind of elder sister to him; it was the role I played to him when we were children.”

“Ah—so you mean he wants to bed you and wed you.” You choked on your drink, giving Jacaerys a scandalised look. “What? Sibling marriage is the custom of our family.”

“I meant that he thinks of me as a sister in the Andal way.”

“Yet none of us are Andals—including yourself, dear cousin. You are a Targaryen.”

Your mood soured as he reminded you of the fact. You could not help but think of how eager you were to run away from that Small Council room a fortnight ago, so aggrieved were you by your kin.

“Can you ask your lady mother to disown me from the family?” you begged, and Jace snorted.

“Only you would reject the life of a trueborn Targaryen,” he said, shaking his head. He likely meant it as a jape, but the words had a bitter timbre to them, and you felt torn between guilt and resentment. Trueborn or not, Jacaerys had a number of people protecting his place in this family—yourself included. The same could not be said of you.

“My trueborn family rejected my mother. I may as well be a bastard.”

“Every bastard still wants for a family.”

“A family, sure, but I imagine not always their family by blood. Most of them do well enough. I feel I would.”

“You wouldn't really want to leave it all behind,” he accused.

“No,” you admitted. “I thought briefly of running away, after I was told of my father's death. But now there are people here I care for too much. Like Aemond, or Wildfyre.”

“And?” Jace prompted.

“I suppose I like Luke well enough.”

“How cold.”

You smiled at the prickly look he feigned. “I would miss you terribly, Jace. But I tire easily of all the politicking in these walls.” You sighed heavily. “If she cannot disown me, could you ask Princess Rhaenyra to marry me off to someplace far from King’s Landing? And not to any Targaryen men, please.”

“I have little say in such matters, but if you'll take a Velaryon, I could get you as far as Dragonstone.”

Aemond was nearby, clearly listening, and you realised now that Jace must have noticed. You smiled at your dark-haired cousin, amused.

“A tempting offer,” you replied playfully, “but you’d become a Targaryen once you ascend the throne, and I'd also be back here once more when that happens. I'm afraid I'll need to decline.”

Jacaerys played at disappointment, clicking his tongue. “Ah, well, it was worth a try.” He picked up his own goblet from the table, took a draught. “There’s always the King Beyond the Wall. Is that far enough for you?”

“I would rather face the Others than Otto Hightower,” you said dryly. “Certainly, I would fear them less.”

You expected Jace to laugh, but he only studied you, as if curious. After a moment of consideration, he leaned in and asked, “Would you care to step outside with me, my lady? For some fresh air.”

Fresh air was clearly not what he wanted. Nevertheless, you agreed and allowed Jace to help you out of your seat. As you rose, you glanced at Aemond, worried for his reaction, but his attention was not on you. He was speaking with Ser Arthur, you realised, who did not seem pleased by whatever Aemond was saying. Your brow furrowed, and you wondered if you should intervene, but Aemond glanced at you then, the corner of his mouth hooked slyly, his gaze as unsettling as it was reassuring.

Play along in the morrow, Aemond had told you, so you decided whatever he was planning was not your business tonight. You turned on your heel and took Jace by the arm, hurrying away.

IX. SEVEN OF CUPS

The night was cool and quiet, but you knew that it was not empty. You were certain that there would be many curious about why the Crown Prince would want to step outside and close the doors to the Great Hall behind him, obviously seeking privacy. Guards were posted in the courtyard below despite being within the inner castle walls; the balcony above you was silent when there should have been chatter and music from the banquet drifting from its threshold. Someone had stepped outside and closed the doors to escape the noise—meaning they could now listen to you rather than the noise of the feast.

You had long ago noticed that some of the sordid rumours about you involved your moments when you believed you were utterly alone with another person, or when you moved through supposedly empty halls and corners of the castle. From this, you suspected that there were eyes and ears placed all throughout the Red Keep. When you brought this up to Aemond (talking quietly in the dragon pit, where Wildfyre and the many other dragons ensured that you were both alone), he outright confirmed it. Larys Strong is quite adept at collecting whispers, he had commented. The Queen often consults him on them. King Viserys, though, has never paid him any mind—he does not see the value in knowing the whispers of King’s Landing.

When you asked Aemond how he had collected such whispers, he merely smiled.

After this conversation, you quickly surmised that all adept players at court had eyes and ears to aid them. You had not realised how much you had taken this knowledge for granted until Jacaerys disclosed that he had wanted to step onto the balcony to get some privacy.

“Privacy?” You made a face. Dragonstone had evidently spoiled the man. “This is not a private place. I do hope you aren't planning on saying or doing anything that may be seen as untoward. The Queen already believes that you have taken me abed and thoroughly ruined my innocence.”

Jacaerys cleared his throat. Moonlight tended to wash out the colour from anything illuminated by it, but you suspected he had gone red. “I will say nothing that will fuel those rumours. I only wanted privacy from my uncle, lest he be offended by my suggestion.” He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Is someone truly listening?”

“You’re within the walls of the Red Keep. Someone is always listening, except for in a scarce few places. I can show you some other time where I like to go for real privacy.” You tilted your head. “But let's hear your suggestion. I am curious to know what would offend Aemond so.”

“The Hightowers,” Jace started, “have mistreated you these past few days. You japed about it just now, but the Hand and the Queen have sche—”

You placed a finger to his lips, and his eyes widened, startled. He swallowed thickly, only relaxing when you moved your hand away. You then smiled and finished for him: “Yes, the Hand and the Queen upset me during my petition. But it is well-known that they always have the best interests of the Realm at heart—it is clear they were only acting for the benefit of the Seven Kingdoms when they contested my inheritance.” Giving Jace a meaningful look, you asked, “What of it?”

Jacaerys caught on quickly, thank the Seven. “It is understandable that they have the best interests of the Realm at heart, but I keep the best interests of yours in mine. I was not entirely jesting in the Great Hall: I would take you away from the Red Keep, if you so wished.”

You stared. “Take me away?”

“To Dragonstone,” he offered plainly. “Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon would happily host you for as long as you desired. I would be there to keep you company during your stay, as would Luke.”

“Ah. Do they want to take me as their ward?” It was unsurprising, you thought. They likely wanted your inheritance. But you played the fool: “Or do they need a dragonrider? I know Lord Velaryon has trouble with pirates every now and then. It would be sensible for Prince Daemon to solicit my help as they are allies, I suppose.”

“They aren't inviting you. I am.” You blinked at him, obviously uncomprehending, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “You could see the castle,” he began slowly. “Visit the beaches. Fly to Braavos to oversee your wealth, and I would accompany you if you liked. Vermax would be happy for it—I do believe he misses you.”

It was hard to believe in the generosity of the offer, though you knew generosity was in Jace’s nature when it came to you. Still, you needed to confirm it: “You want me to come to Dragonstone… for leisure?”

“If leisure is what you want, then yes. If for some reason you wish to labour, though, I am sure there is plenty to be done.” He smiled. “You could teach me Valyrian, to start.”

There was really nothing in the world that sounded more appealing than living in a darkly beautiful castle by the sea and tutoring a gorgeous prince who wished to take you to Braavos. Certainly, it would be the fantasy of any other maiden.

Still, you hesitated. “I am unsure if this is wise…”

Jacaerys leaned in then. “You've always wanted to get away from the Hightowers,” he said quietly, “even when we were children. Now is your chance.”

You raised a brow, wondering how you let that slip to anyone other than Aemond. “Did I tell you that?”

“You quite literally told me to rescue you from them.”

“Did I?” you asked, perplexed. But you recalled it a moment after: when Princess Rhaenyra was sent to Dragonstone and Jacaerys was downtrodden about parting from you. He had just lost Ser Harwin, so you’d felt poorly for him—had Aemond not been so feverishly ill from the loss of his eye, you might have actually asked Rhaenyra to host you so that you could stay with Jace a while. It made your heart ache that you couldn't be with him, especially since you knew what it felt like to see your father leave your home and then never return. So of course, you promised Jace that you would someday be reunited, and that you would stay by his side then.

You hadn't thought about those words in years.

“Oh,” you murmured, oddly touched, “yes, I suppose I did say that, didn’t I? I thought you would have forgotten about it by now.”

He gave you an expression that you couldn't quite decipher. “Of course I remembered,” he said earnestly. “You asked me to take you away—so let me.”

You stayed quiet for a long moment as you considered the offer. You heard the scrape of soles against brick on the balcony above you, the clink of knights’ armour below. All the eyes and ears of the Red Keep pressed upon you, and it made your heart pound.

“I can't,” you spoke carefully. You leaned forward—close enough to murmur into his ear. “The Queen has already arranged for the Tyrells to take me as a ward. If your mother were to take me on instead, then it would put both her and the Queen in an uncomfortable position. The Tyrells would be offended by them both. I do not think Princess Rhaenyra would want to malign a great house.” And I do not wish to know what Otto Hightower would do to me if I put Queen Alicent in such a sensitive position, you left unsaid.

You could see, in Jace’s eyes, his understanding, acceptance, and eventual disappointment in the reality of your situation.

“It would be wiser for you to stay,” he finally agreed, “but do know that if either Highgarden or the Red Keep become unbearable, there will always be a place on Dragonstone for you.”

You peered beyond the balcony, into the dark night where you imagined many eyes watching you. From the way Lady Tyrell had talked to you, you could tell that Highgarden would likely not be too different from the Red Keep—full of silver-tongued flatterers, keen whisperers, and elaborate schemes. It was exactly the kind of politicking that made you so eager to get away from King’s Landing—the kind of politicking that you would find anywhere there were those who thirsted for power.

And few people in the Realm desired power more than Rhaenyra.

“It is generous of the blacks to offer this,” you said finally. “If I could follow you to Dragonstone, then I would.”

“It is not the blacks who offer it,” Jacaerys replied. “I meant it when I said that I was inviting you. I only wish to offer you a place in which you are safe. If you ever find yourself wanting a home without flattery and falsehoods, then come join me on Dragonstone. I shall never turn you away.”

You gave him a wistful smile.

“You are very kind, Jace,” you replied gently, “and I love you dearly for it. But no such home could ever exist for a Targaryen.”

END PART IV

bonus: I posted a super horny excerpt of a fic where Jace is thinking about ******* you in that dress. enjoy! (yes he was losing his mind fr during that scene. aemond too but he was better at hiding it)

[god-nova]

mad scientist!yandere x franken!reader

includes; dubcon, virgin!reader, gender neutral!reader, overstimulation, mention of drugs, pet names, experimentation, mentions of a fatal accident, yan is bossy asl 😒, rimming (reader receiving), yan is a perv high-key, etc

Mad Scientist!Yan was born into long line of fantastic, admirable and scientific minds. All have set out to do the impossible: They want the power to control life itself. Ten generations of people scouring the land, testing themselves, searching for the answer to the concept that was resurrection and everlasting life.

Mad Scientist!Yan, sadly, (despite being the most intelligent person in his line 😭) doesn't give a damn about any of that....

....until he sees what happened to you.

Mad Scientist!Yan has always been popular despite his intelligence; he had always excelled in connecting with people (despite being insane). So, when he's too scared to approach you, he doesn't panic- he plans. He redirects.

Mad Scientist!Yan never approaches you directly. He enjoyed, well, studying you from afar. He felt embarrassed using his gifts and talents to be a pervert, but he began to warm up to his true nature.

Mad Scientist!Yan spends months watching you, years noting down everything he knew about you; he knows everything, from the smell of your sweat to your most... intimate habits and preferences (you sicko 🫵🤨).

Mad Scientist!Yan has dozens of informants, his doting sycophants who help him keep hundreds of tabs on you - your life has been documented at length without your knowledge.

Mad Scientist!Yan would have been content with this forever - but people don't live forever. Your time would, very abruptly, run out.

Mad Scientist!Yan was unlucky that day. He was on his way to your favorite coffee shop, since it was the time you usually went. He was particularly happy, too, because he loved seeing your face when the cashier (like clockwork) said, "Someone already paid for your drink!" He had the thought in his head when he saw the totaled cars, then the blood, then-

Mad Scientist!Yan sees your body splayed on the ground. You are in pieces.

You are no more...

No, he thinks, watching the authorities collect you, feeling himself be pushed away with the crowd, this isn't the end them. It can't! I haven't even spoken to them.

No, he thinks, I can fix this.

1 funeral later, your body goes missing.

1 moth later, you are patched together.

1 year later, you open your eyes.

He presses the button hard, sending shocks of feverish pleasure through you. You feel hotter than hot, sweatier than ever before.

Fuck, you think, he's going to break me.

You had no idea why you agreed to stay here. You barely knew the guy! Gratitude was due, sure, but... Did you really have to let him get freak nasty with your body?

You could have contacted your loved ones by now, but here you are, getting diddled by a freaky mad genius who had (apparently) been stalking you for months on end before your death!

“Ah… Ah…” you gasp, wriggling in your restraints. “Too much… It's so hot…”

“You must endure, sweetness,” he says, thumb still jumping on the button of the device. A cylinder inside the base of your spine releases the painkillers and the euphoria-inducing substance of your yandere’s own making. “It is my mission to mix pleasure and progress.”

I know! you think. You always say that!

“I'm… I'm going to cum—”

“Don't be bad, kitten,” he says, gripping your weakened legs with an iron grip. It was a warning, a message. “You know you don't cum without permission. You KNOW you listen.”

Tears well in your eyes as he stares both firmly and dreamily at you. “It's probably so intense for you. So exciting…”

You couldn't move much right then. He had the device that activated your body fully was completely shut off. All you could do is watch him spark up your most tender and sensitive sweet spots...

“I'll be your first time once I heal you completely,” he says giddily. You find him horrifying and eerie, but you'd never tell him that. “I can't wait to see you cry. It'll so sweet… I'll make sure you won't feel a second of pain.”

He leans down and throws your legs over his shoulders. A strong, hot tongue fucks your virgin asshole, wriggling and exploring your depths. He never stops pushing the button, either; you are at the mercy of his lust and invention. When he comes up to breath, he circles your rim hungrily, and you unwillingly reward him with whimpers and groans.

“Ah,” he gasps, looking up at you. “You came, kitten? You're supposed to wait for my orders.

“Now we have to start over.”

[chillinglyadventurous]

Obligations - Part 2

Requested by @slay-thou-pookie @crossxskies @babypeapoddd and @damalseer

Part 1 > Part 2

Tags: Hurt

Twelve fingers. Ten toes. You’d counted them yourself multiple times. Of course, Stan had missed the birth of his nephew. He was in jail. Your husband was in jail. You drove back to the Murder Hut on your own. Stan was going to get an earful when he got home. You knew he knew that.

Now? You sat in that ugly yellow armchair with your son in your arms. You’d been too exhausted to walk up the stairs to the nursery Stan had put together. You kissed the newborn’s head, “Welcome home, sixer. Sorry your dad’s not here.”

In the quiet, you stared down at the bundle in your arms, counting his fingers again. You wondered what Ford would say if he were there. You knew he’d be in love. A part of him, however, would feel bad his kid inherited those extra fingers. If you ever saw him again, you planned to tell him just how much these six little fingers gripping one of yours meant to you.

“Did I miss it?” Stan shouted as he stormed into the living room.

You glanced at the baby in your arms and then back to him. “Yeah,” you sighed, “I’d say you did.”

You could see the regret written on Stan’s face. You had gotten married so you wouldn’t have to go through this alone, but you still had. It killed you. Not only was Ford gone, but Stan was too.

Placing the infant in his arms, you gave him a soft kiss to the cheek, “Meet your son, Stanford.”

Stan was so enamored by the baby in his arms, he didn’t say a word when you called him Stanford. He hated when you did that, often the names spilled from your lips in a fight on accident. Before you could sit back down, Stan took a hold of you with one arm, pulling you close.

“I’m sorry I missed it,” he muttered into your hair. You had plans to yell at him, but, looking at him now, holding your son, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. “You did good, kid. He’s perfect.”

You took the baby’s hand in yours, holding it up for Stan to see, “Twelve fingers.”

“Ah,” Stan sighed, studying the baby’s hands, “just like his old man.” You could see the hurt in Stan’s eyes. You wondered why it was there. Apart of you knew the truth, but you didn’t want to see it. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. That’s what they say. Right? “What did you name him?”

“Stanley,” you said fondly as the baby is Stan’s are gave a little whine.

Stan looked at you, “You gonna tell em what you named the kid?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “How am I supposed to yell at him if I don’t know his name?”

“I named him Stanley, you idiot.”

Stan beamed before his lips met yours. At first, you didn’t know how to react, but you caressed his cheek anyways. This was just hormones. You knew that. Neither you nor Stan loved each other, at least, not like that. He knew you’d never love anyone else. You knew he couldn’t be tied down, a free spirit. Yet, you kissed him anyways, pretending he was Ford just for a moment.

As your son grew, Stan was a doting uncle father. He coached little league teams. He taught your son how to ride a bike. But that boy was all Stanford. He refused to take up boxing when Stan had suggested it. He preferred reading over sports, but you could never shake that ache in your chest when your little boy called him daddy.

This obligation Stan had inherited from his brother was trying more so on you than him. You knew Stan reveled in it. He loved being a dad and he was good at it. You credited natural instincts because you’d met Fillbrick Pines before. That man didn’t have a nurturing bone in his body. Stan? That man was so supportive.

Every report card was hung up on the refrigerator. Little Stanley’s artwork was framed and displayed in the Mystery Shack gift shop. Stan and Stanley even worked together to create attractions. It was sweet. They were sweet.

Before you knew it, your baby was a grown man. He looked so much like his father, six fingers an all. College graduations were plentiful. Your son was a graduate of West Coast Tech. Ford would have been so proud.

When Stan got that portal running again, you had cried. You were a bundle of emotions. What would Ford think? What would your son think? How would you break this news? How could you?

As soon as Ford came through that portal, everything changed. You ran into his arms despite the confusion on your son’s face. Kissing him again erased thirty years of despair. He was back. It was bittersweet. He was back, but he missed so much.

After Dipper and Mabel were sent to bed, the hard part began. “Heh, well son,” Stan started, “I guess it’s finally time we tell you the truth.”

Ford was still fuming. Stan had married you. He didn’t the one thing Ford never thought he’d do, steal his girl. He couldn’t blame you. He had left you. Now, you were his wife, mother of his child. It made Ford sick and he blamed himself. Had he not built that portal, you would be his wife. Your son would be his.

“I’m actually your uncle.”

“What?” Ford and your son questioned in unison.

You simply nodded, “I found out about 2 months after you left.” The look on Ford’s face was full of self-loathing. “I thought it was just stress. I didn’t think-“

Ford’s attention turned back to his son who had a haze of distrust clouding his mid. “You and Stan aren’t-“

“Nope,” Stan shook his head. “Technically, poindexter, you’re married to [Y/N].”

After a few weeks, after Weirdmegeddon, your son and his father grew closer, but Stan was always near by. You wondered how you had gotten so lucky, how your son had gotten so lucky. Without Stan, you couldn’t have done this on your own. Without Stan, you wouldn’t be packing him, your husband, and your son up for a year-long sailing trip.

“That’s everything,” you grinned, handing the last bag over to Stanley. You kissed his cheek, so proud of the man he had become. “Dong let your dad and Stan fight too much, please.”

Your boy hugged you tight, “I won’t, Ma.”

Ford kissed you softly. His hand clapped on his son’s back. “I won’t let anything happen to him. I promise.”

“[Y/N],” Stan called from the boat’s bow, “Did you pack the sunscreen? You know Stanley gets all lobstery in the sun.” Ever the worried dad.

[tinylilacbun]

Sunburn

Request: The second one would be at the beach!! Brother!jj keeps warning his sister to apply sunscreen but she doesn't want to listen and at the end of the day she got sunburns and cries to her brother and jj would be like "i told you, you ain't listening to me" but somehow will still applying after sunscreen, or a cream to ease her pain <33

Pairing: brother!jj maybank x toddler!sister!reader

Warnings: sunburn, fluff, not proofread cause I'm tired :3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

"We gonna go swim now?" You ask excitedly, holding JJ's hand and skipping by his side.

"Sure thing, squirt." He smiles at her, waiting for Kie to spread out the blanket before placing the cooler onto it together with the bag that was slung over is shoulder that had all necessities for you in it, such as snacks, your floaties, towels, etc.

You quickly get out of your shirt and shorts, revealing your swimsuit that had a turtle printed on the front, a gift you got from Kie on the first day of summer.

As JJ was rummaging through the bag for something specific you already took of running but didn't get far when he circles an arm around your body without even looking.

"Ah, ah, ah. Nice try." He chuckles, pulling out the sunblocker. "Didn't we forget somethin'?"

You make a grimace, shaking your head. "Don't need it! It's stinky."

"Trust me, ya would rather stink than have a sunburn later." He retorts, sighing when you didn't stop wriggling in his hold.

"Don't want it!" You whine loudly, pushing at his face so he would let you go.

He reluctantly let's go of you, dropping the sunblocker onto the blanket. He catches your wrist again as you were about to bolt after John B and Pope who were already jogging towards the water with their boards.

"Floaties." He reminds her, getting them out of the bag.

You huff but let him slid them over your arms, knowing that these are not up for discussion as you still can't swim without them.

"Can I go now?" You ask impatiently.

"Go." He waves you off, shaking his head with a smile as you dart off, shouting after you. "Stay close to JB or Pope!"

Kie had just finished getting out of her own clothes, smirking at the blonde. "She'll have one hell of a sunburn later."

JJ groans, grabbing your discarded clothes and dusting off from the sand before putting them in the bag for later. "Don't remind me but she gotta learn from it somehow."

Kie nods, reaching into her own bag and tossing a bottle of aloe vera at him. "You'll need that later."

"Thanks. You're a lifesaver." He smiles.

After a while of swimming and JJ helping you stand on his board a few times where you fell in the water a few time because he accidently shook the board you were now back on the sand, building castles with Kie while the boys did their thing.

Your sand castle was decorated with all kinds of shells, sticks, and leaves that you both collect from the beach.

Kie grimaces a little when she sees your back already in a light shade of red but continues to help you.

Soon enough the boys came out of the water for a snack and drink break. JJ whistles you over to him, holding out a juice box for you which you happily take. "Thank you."

He ruffles your hair and glances at your self made castle. "Whoa, that's a lit castle, cupcake."

You beam at that, smiling brightly. "You think so?"

"'Course I do. Y'think we can live in there?" He asks and you giggle.

"We too big for that, silly."

Later in the afternoon the pogues were sitting outside the Chateau with a crinkling fire, a few beers and some music while you were inside getting ready for bed.

JJ could hear you crying before you even came out, throwing his head back with a sigh. "There we go."

"Jay..." You sniffle, trotting over to him and tucking yourself into his side.

"What's wrong, hm?" He asks despite knowing the answer not even rubbing your back like he usually does when you're upset, knowing it would only hurt with the possible sunburn you definitely must have.

"It hurts!" You whimper against his bicep.

"What hurts? You gotta be specific, kiddo."

"My back." You mumble and he turns you around, lifting your shirt just enough to see your irritated skin.

"Damn, that's a nasty sunburn." He winces, turning you back around to face him. "I told ya this would happen."

The way you were looking at him with big teary eyes makes him soften and he stands up, picking you he carries you back inside and to the bathroom.

He sets you down on the toilet lid, patting your head. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

He leaves to retrieve the aloe vera cream Kie gave him earlier, rushing back to the bathroom. JJ grabs under your armpits to hoist you into a standing position, pulling your shirt over your head.

"Turn around. I promise it'll feel better soon." He instructs and starts to apply a good amount aloe vera onto your back, cooing softly when you whimper from the sudden coldness. "I know, I know."

As soon as he was done you turn back around still sniffling, reaching your arms out for him and he instantly scoops you up, swaying with you from side to side.

"Better listen to me next time."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

@chimindity

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For JJ:

@chiaraanatra

[jamil-s-wifey]

If you're taking any scenario request. Maybe could I request funny/silly one where Leona and his S/O are married and live in the Royal Palace. Leona's S/O has gotten lost somehow in their own home and when found their response is "This place is too damn big I'm sorry!"

You have NO idea how much I love these types of fics! Wholesome crackheadedness at its finest✨ We love a spouse with 0 orientation skills. (I'd know, I get lost in supermarkets) This was ONE OF THE FUNNIEST THINGS I've EVER written. I hope you enjoy!

"What the actual fuck."

A turn here. A turn there.

Oh, would you look at that - the exact same vase you passed 5 minutes ago. But was that really the same vase? Or was it its evil twin, trying to further confuse you, only for you to get lost even more and die of starvation, eventually BECOMING ONE WITH THE PALACE...

God, whoever built this palace should have their head on a stake. Haha, that sounded a lot like the Red Queen of Hearts. Perhaps Riddle was rubbing off on you. You two did text occasionally since graduating from NRC.

Speaking of graduation, you married Leona. (yay!) And it's not like you weren't happy. Life was relatively peaceful. You two moved back to the palace. Arrangements had begun for you two to take over a certain part of Sunset Savannah, as something akin to a *Peerage. (They had their own name for it, you are currently far too annoyed to remember.) A lot of (semi-forced) communication set the road to reconciliation between the two brothers. (Admittedly a very long road. A road that puts Gulliver's travels to shame.) The Royal Family™️ accepted you with open hearts. (albeit a tad wary at first)

Really there was only one major problem.

The ROYAL PALACE IS LIKE A GODDAMN LABYRINTH. And that's rich, given your history of painting the white roses with Ace and Deuce in Heartsabyul's maze. So here you are, lost.

Scratch that.

Lost: again.

And all you wanted to do was find Cheka's room. You had a gift for the little cub.

"An architectural masterpiece, my ass. This is an architectural disaster. A disaster with a capital D. D for Vitamin D - what I won't be getting, because I'm trapped within these walls, where the SUN CAN'T REACH ME-"

Okay. Calm down. It's not that bad, sure there isn't a soul in sight, but you're bound to stumble upon somebody at some point, right? There had to be servants, or guards, or somebody! UNLESS! This is all an elaborate plan to get rid of you.

Aha! That must be it. The Royal Family wants you dead and they intend to make it seem like an accident! But Leona wouldn't allow that, right? He loves you! Dearly! You're his spouse, his one and only! Ah, cruel fate.

Is it just you...or are these walls moving in on each other. So this IS an assassination attempt! And you presented yourself on a silver platter. Good job, s/o. Splendid work. A royal for a few months and you're already about to be assassinated. Your name shall remain the book of "Dumbest ways to die." Goodbye cruel world-

"S/o."

Leona's voice rang through the empty hallway, "What are you doing out here."

Ah! And so tragedy was avoided once more!

"Leona, my LOVE! Thank God."

"Did you just- get lost in the palace... again?", his eyes read annoyance but his tone was teasing.

"It's not MY fault this place is so damn big, what do you need all this space for anyways? Indoor badminton? Hide and Seek or Die?"

"Definitely that last one. That's how we get rid of our enemies."

"AHA! I knew it! So this IS an assassination attempt!"

He simply rolled his eyes, pulling you towards him to wrap an arm around your waist and kiss you on the forehead.

"This isn't an assassination attempt. You did this yourself. It's called idiocy."

"You should build a better palace."

"What I should do is put a collar on you. With a tracking device on it. Like a pet."

"Oh, Leona~ Who knew you were into that~"

"Next time I'm leaving you here to rot."

"Then I'll haunt you to Hell and back."

He smirked, pinching your cheek as you were both making your way far from the cursed looping corridor.

"At least you won't be able to get lost."

"I told you, it's not my fault."

"Nah, of course not. The Palace is just cursed."

"EVIDENTLY."

You both knew this isn't the last time you'll be getting lost. And Leona was seriously considering the tracking device.

Perhaps he'd already ordered it too.

You were about to find out.

*Peerage - collective noun for titles like Duke, Duchess, Count, Earl etc. Comes from "Peers of the Realm" where one could hold one or more of these titles. It differs from monarchy to monarchy. THAT'S YOUR WORD FOR THE DAY FOLKS!

[aarchengel]

Hey 😊 would you do a Damon Salvatore imagine where you’re dating but then you leave the house after a fight with him and get in a bad car crash. He feels this and searches for you, just to find you I’m time to save your life. Then he stays by your side, feeling guilty and when you wake up again he’s there taking care of you, apologizes and promises to never let any harm happen to you again? Just some lovely fluff and a bit angsty. Thank you so much 😊

Apology

Summary: Your boyfriend Damon has been acting very possessive and controlling and you get into a huge fight with him. You go out for a drive to clear your head but end up in an accident instead. Damon finds you and takes you home, making up for everything he had done.

ANGST, fluff

Damon being controlling, car crash, reader having a near-death experience

1.5K

A/N: Thank you @imagine-all-the-fandoms for being my first request! I'm so sorry it took forever (this is horrible). Do let me know if this is satisfactory. Happy reading!

Damon Salvatore X Human!Fem!Reader

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Your boyfriend of two years, Damon, was recently being very controlling and possessive. He started making your decisions for you without bothering to consult you, being unreasonably jealous of any male around you and demanding to be with you at all times, not understanding the healthy concept of giving 'space'.

But this time, it ran deep. He compelled your childhood best friend, Jake, to leave town and forget all about you. You caught him in nick of time otherwise you would've never even known about what happened to him!

Deeply hurt and driven mad with rage, you left the Boarding House for a drive after a few broken objects, wounding words and a heavy heart.

You didn't know how, perhaps you weren't in your right senses, you couldn't hit the brakes and crashed right into a tree. The car flipped over, and your arms twisted at an odd angle. Your limp and now-sore body was fastened with the seat belt, and you couldn't undo it. You were hit badly in the back of your head, and you could feel unbearable burn of a deep gash.

Your senses had perked up under the stillness of the night, and you heard a faint trickle. Then wetness across your back, your head, soon trickling down to your neck. It was a strange fluid --- coppery metallic smell, thick and red with a mud-brownish tinge. It was oddly enticing and familiar. A shiver ran down your spine when you realised it was your blood. Blood, so much blood --- your own. You were losing so much blood, and you could do nothing to stop it. You felt faint and suddenly, the hardest thing in the world was staying conscious.

You were terrified. If you were going to die, then it mustn't be like this. An accident. Your whole life snatched away just because of a mistake. God, you had so many things to do in life. Get a job, travel the world, adopt a cat --- ordinary things but they were your dreams, which now lay shattered. You didn't want your life --- and death --- so unremarkable and ordinary. And while all this time, there was a deep wound of regret in your heart --- perhaps greater than the gash on your head --- to part with Damon.

Sure, he could be such an asshole at times, but you knew that he loves you with all his heart. You didn't want your last words to him be an angry "I hate you". You had never really thought about it, what would be your last words to him. You couldn't breathe at the sheer grief that hit you at the moment. Unable to withstand the blow, you closed your eyes, succumbing to a world of endless darkness, getting lost in your way towards the blue-eyed vampire. And you couldn't do a damn thing about it...

Anger and frustration clouded Damon's mind. It was all hazy, and he was searching for a light. Ah, there it is! Remorse, regret, fear of having losing her. He knew what he did was wrong, but why couldn't she understand? He loved her so damn much, everything he did was tp protect her.

She lived her constant danger because he loved her, and he knew at times that he should let her go, but he couldn't. He needed her to function, she was his damn sanity, and without her, he lost it.

Suddenly, there was this intense urge to go find her, not to waste a single moment. He'll do anything to have her back, she can't leave him. He knew he was unreasonable, ill-tempered and sometimes too controlling, but he couldn't help himself.

He got behind the steering wheel and let his heart lead the way, for it was with her where it truly lay.

He was aghast, devastated, even. Finding her like this, so near to death, he suddenly came to his senses. He was crying, he realised. He never cried. But that's what she does to him --- make him into someone he never thought he could be.

"Y/N, no! No, no, no!" he wailed, feeling utterly helpless. He undid your seatbelt and somehow pulled you out of the overturned car. Without wasting a moment, he bit into his wrist and forced his blood into your mouth.

You drank for a moment then turned away, trying to sit up but immediately fell back and the sheer exhaustion and soreness you felt.

He was here. He was here, you realised.

"Oh Damon, I'm so sorry!" you sobbed into his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around you and you knew he was crying into your shoulder.

You simply let things just be. In that dark night, the feeling of death heavy around you, the two of you embraced a new life. Of promises of forever, of understanding, of accepting --- and it was beautiful.

After what seemed like an eternity, he composed himself, giving you some strength, too. "Let's get you home, yeah?" he whispered and you nodded. He lifted you bridal style in his arms and helped you into his car. You leaned on him, as much as you could and he kissed the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry..." he began but your shook your head. He understood. Not now.

You drove to the Boarding House in companionable silence. The silence was golden. The silence spoke it all. And all you needed was the silence.

With his help you went inside. The house that was so familiar --- it looked the same --- but it promised something different.

"You don't know how scared I was today," he whispered as he rubbed your feet.

"Me too... I didn't want to die like that. Not without saying goodbye, though I wonder if I ever will be able to say it-" he silenced you with a kiss. "I won't let anything happen to you. I want you all for myself, I know that's selfish. I am prick and I don't deserve you, but I do love you very much, so much that it's frustrating, and I won't be able to live with myself if something happens to you. I know I make bad decisions, I know I react impulsively, but I do it only for you. I am sorry for today. I had no reason to compel Jake, but I did it anyway because I was insecure. I realised my mistake, I have no reason to be. So, if you have it in you, please forgive me...". Tears were streaming down his face.

You wiped them away and hugged him close.

"I'm hungry," you said, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. It made him laugh. "Pasta?"

"Yes!"

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