#so i never had any of her trinkets

[coolcattime]

I've been playing Darkest Dungeon lately (like doing a dungeon or two per session) and I FINALLY got to do my first shieldbreaker nightmare and I realised she gives a warning when a nightmare is going to happen which is so useful but I've literally never seen anyone mention before and I was just like !!!

[fatehbaz]

.

[venuiscmind]

i was replaying part two and all i can think of is the scene where dina and ellie talk about if anyone is still making movies. imagine ellie doing everything she can to find a camera so you and her can make your own type of movies ?? id explode.

Only on Camera (Ellie Williams x reader smut) 18+

Hiiiiii. Loved the request and has been on my mind ever since you asked for it. Bartender Ellie is still on the way but this just inspired me so much!!! ( also this was written at 3am so pls ignore any errors ooph) (W.C 3k)

Scissoring, tribbing, fingering, oral, making out, spit play (only a tiny bit), squirting, pet names.

read this.

</3.

If you asked Ellie, she'd tell you that she never thought she would be like one of those girls that she had seen on the smut magazines or pictures she had come across in patrols or in scavenges for trading material. The thought had briefly crossed her mind while she was on a patrol with Dina, and she had asked her if she thought 'Was anyone still making movies out there.' but she kept her lips firmly shut. 

Then she had actually discovered those tapes in Eugene’s Library.

Ellie never watched them whenever she returned to the library, but she was a woman possessed. She had to make trips back whenever she was patrolling the creek trails with Dina, and she would always take some weed back with her to trade or to smoke with you. She had even began trading the leaves with the others in Jackson swapping them for little things that she thought you would love like clothes, certain snacks or trinkets you would store in safe places. 

She loved seeing you happy and sometimes wished she could capture these moments of you smiling up at her or hugging her to say thank you forever. Make them permanent and tangible so she could hold onto it for the rest of her life.  

That was when she thought back on those tapes again. Not thinking of the girls or what they were doing on them but of you, and how you would look better on camera than any of them. Clothes on or not.  

And that was how it started. Her signing in at any patrol spot and then begging her partner to give her an hour to turn the place over to find what she was looking for. She began expanding her search to places that weren't necessarily on the patrol route but still needed to be checked out, schools, malls that seemed to be as stocked as could be in the apocalypse, certain houses that hadn't been too badly ransacked and lone stores that could have what she needed. 

Nothing. To say she was getting frustrated was an understatement, but she didn't give up. She wanted to try. So, she kept looking and bribing her partner to look the other way. Then one day it clicked. After weeks of ransacking and mauling properties she looked in the place where it had all started. She tied Shimmer outside of Eugene's library and got to work immediately.  

Finally in one of the drawers she found a handheld camera, still in good condition and as luck would have it still had storage. "Yes." She sighed into her frozen hands and silently thanked the soul of the now deceased Eugene. She stuffed the camera into her backpack and rode back to Jackson with a new stride in her step.  

She didn't bring up the idea to you immediately, but she did bring the camera to show you. Despite her frantic search Ellie wanted to ease the idea of being on tape onto you as gently as possible. But it didn't take long for her to ask. 

It was a rare evening that the both of you had off, Ellie relieved from her patrols for the day and you from your duties in the stables and gardens of Jackson. You spent it how you always did. At each other's respective houses, this time it was at Ellie's, and you had spent the day watching movies and keeping each other warm against the bitter cold of the town's winters.  

You started off watching the first few films side by side, sharing a blanket, then Ellie took your legs and swung them over her lap in the name if making you comfier. Soon after you had simply gravitated towards each other, each movement had you growing closer, negating any space between the two of you until you had gotten close enough to sit in her lap.  

You slid your leg on the other side of hers, so that you could straddle her and hear her ask a simple "you okay to keep going?" Your responses were always the same. A small kiss to her lips and a "yes els, keep going." mumbled against her lips. 

The dim light of the movie, kept Ellie's flushed face visible to you as you stroked the side of her face and leaned in, being met by her halfway as she arched up to kiss you. You always felt so foggy whenever you kissed her.  

Like all the heat in your body would suddenly flare up and you could short circuit. You felt as though your heartbeat had started for the first time and you couldn't get any oxygen into your lungs. But you didn't need any. Ellie was all you needed. With her hands gripping your waist before moving the soft flesh of your ass.  

You moaned into her mouth at the touch, sliding your hands up into her hoodie palming her tits and sliding your tongue into her mouth which was already open and accepting you into her. Your heart suddenly swelled at this, feeling the love the girl under you held for you and only you.  

Ellie leaned back and pulled away from you leaning her head against the arm of the couch, looking at you for a second, lips shiny with a small string of spit connecting the two of you together. She wanted to ask you desperately but didn't to make things weird now especially when she wanted to take care of you. You saw the furrow on her brow and whispered to her "Els, are you okay over there?" looking at the expression on her face. You moved to get off, but she kept her hands firmly planted before opening her eyes fully and settling them onto you.  

"Y-yeah just wanted to ask you about something. You can a hundred percent say no, but I just wanted to see if you maybe wanted to-" "It's about that camera, isn't it?" You cut off your poor girl's rambles feeling she'd never actually ask and keep circling. You looked into her eyes lovingly and smiled softly, continuing to stroke the swells of her cheeks.  

"I want to if you want to els." This caused Ellie to groan under you and offer reassurance of "we can stop anytime you want just say," or "we don't have to you know?". You knew she was assuming and worrying you were doing this for her, but the idea had popped into your head ever since she placed the camera into your hands. You wanted to make sure your love lasted forever. On film and with each other too. You lead Ellie to her bed, hand in hand and sat her down, kissing her before setting the camera up on her desk opposite the bed, facing the both of you before flicking it on and confirming the red dot was flickering. 

You turned to her pulling your shirt over your head and placing it on her desk and heard her breath hitch at the act that she would have this captured on film forever. 

You looked back at the girl on her bed, elbows holding her up as she leaned back on them gazing up at you with her shining green eyes. "C'mere." she said holding her hands out to you beckoning you over.  

You took them and she pulled you down onto the bed, the movement causing you to realise how much slick had pooled between your legs and probably coated your underwear.  

Ellie kissed your cheeks before pulling off her hoodie and her jeans, leaving her in a black wifebeater and her underwear. You took a shaky deep breath as she crawled in the space where your legs were open and lay on top of you, who wrapped your thighs around her middle in response to the intrusion of your space.  

You helped her pull off your pants leaving you only in your underwear. You shivered and pulled her in for a kiss which she gave you but quickly pulled back in favour of getting up and gripping your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed to make sure the camera would get all of what you were giving her making your shriek at the sudden movement. 

You huffed and cried out as she placed a kiss to your underwear. "shh" Ellie placated you rubbing her hands up your thighs to soothe you. She mouthed at you through the garments, listening to you shuffle and moan out at the contact. Her tongue traced around your clit before sucking on the bundle of nerves, making you cover your mouth as your jaw loosened and moans escaped your lips.  

"Ellie, please don't tease I can't take it." you groaned, but the girl was through tormenting you, pushing your underwear aside to taste you properly, spitting on your clit before sucking in your clit again. She slid her fingers against your folds, feeling you shiver against her, as she pushed into you, and settled against the spongy spot inside you. She didn't stay still though, as per your request. She never was good at denying you anything.  

She couldn't get enough of the taste sticking to her tongue and decided she wanted more before shoving her tongue inside of you after sliding her fingers out of you gently. You were so close you sobbed telling her and reached out to pull her short hair closer to your body scratching at the back of your neck. She loved when you did this groaning at the small bits of pain you were giving her she thought while her nose bumped against your clit due to your hips moving.

She hoped the camera wouldn't pick up on the way she was grinding against her own legs folded beneath her, to get some friction from the wetness in her underwear.  

She felt you cream and cum around her tongue, she lapped up as much as she could, tasting the tartness and sweetness of you in her mouth as you came on her lips. She pulled away once she felt you whine, knowing you would be overstimulated too fast if she continued so she kissed her way back up your body, grasped your jaw and you opened your lips before she even said the word "open." 

She let the liquid pool into her mouth then spat straight onto your outstretched tongue. She pushed her fingers into your mouth and felt you swallow around them. Ellie groaned watching you swallow yourself down with blown out pupils. "That's it." she said watching you, "My fucking good girl." You hummed, suckling on her thumb until there was nothing of you left to devour.  

You leaned up to kiss her then whispered in her ear "want you on me els, please?" You leaned back feeling yourself clench around nothing, aching again to feel her again. Ellie let you wrap her arms around her neck, pressing your tits against hers and kissing up her jawline to try and convince her of something she was going to do from the start.  

"Of course, baby." she whispered, kissing your cheeks back and cradling your head. She began taking off the rest of her clothes as you leaned back, letting her climb on top of you. She grabbed the back of your knees spreading them, moulding you into the position she wanted you in. You complied with her, running your hands down the lines of her abs, completely enamoured with the girl on top of you.  

She sank down slowly biting her full lips between her teeth to bite back the moans that were threatening to escape them. You wanted to hear her though, so you grabbed onto her hips gently to start fucking back onto her, coaxing her voice out of her lungs. She gasped and moaned, feeling your clits bump and your collective wetness start to mix together. "holy fuck." she groaned. She would never get used to the feeling of grinding against you. Every time she did it, she felt like she was living for the first time.  

She looked at you, blushing and trying to keep humping against her without finishing before her and had to close her eyes so as not to cum at the sight of it alone but fuck she was close. "Think I'm goanna cum oh shit-." She said cutting herself off as she felt the heat rise in her core and down to her clit as she felt herself tighten again. "so close els, cum on me please." You begged the girl above you. 

She came listening to your babbling underneath you. Ellie gushed and came just as her clit glided up against you, completely coated in your slick and felt herself float out of her body as her eyes rolled back into her skull. She also felt herself gush and squirt around you, holding onto your hands to keep herself grounded and so she didn't fall off your quivering body. She triggered your own orgasm as she felt your folds shake, squeezing around nothing but her slick.  

Once she finished panting and recovered from her orgasm she got up, remembering the camera was still on the both of you. She turned it off watching the light blink out and went back into bed after grabbing towels to clean you both. She dressed you in a shirt and kissed you.  

"Thank you, pretty girl. Can't wait to watch it." She grinned looking over at you while tossing the camera between her hands, as you blushed and covered your face, before jokingly slapping her arm. 

"As long as we watch it together, I want to see you squirt on me." It was her turn to blush at this, but she leaned in before closing her eyes to kiss you again and say, "Love you baby." in a hushed and enamoured tone. 

"Love you too els." You said fondly, wrapping your arms around the girl, covering you both in her sheets and nuzzling her nose.

[ceilidho]

prompt: Ghost only takes you half-seriously when you say you want to see other people. He has just the man in mind. tags: dubcon; threesome; anal (2.5k)

-

He doesn’t so much as twitch when you stumble over your words in an effort to get it out.

“I don’t think this is working,” you say, hands clenched into trembling fists at your sides. “I think we should start seeing other people.”

The only bit of it that Ghost really pays attention to is the fact that you decided to make this little announcement while he’s in the middle of taking apart and cleaning his gun at the kitchen table. His little spitfire girl. Not a lick of fear in you, just a fistful of attitude and snark. The attitude’s ensconced now in your trepidation, a bit smothered under it, nervousness a clear trill in your voice, making it warble, but it shows itself in the downward slant of your brows. Delightful girl.

“That right?” he grunts, jamming the lubricated cotton mop into the bore of the gun. You flinch at the sudden movement, nervous eyes trained on his hands. Ghost makes a note to apologize with his mouth later on.

“Yes,” you croak, then cough to clear your throat. “I’ve, um…I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I think it’ll be better for—for both of us. It’s just…it’s not working out.”

The cigarette dangling from between his lips stinks up the room. Poor girl, he thinks pityingly when you scrunch up your nose and eye it resentfully. Always trying to get him to quit. It’s just shit luck for you that he’s never been good at quitting things, at letting anything go. Everything he’s ever lived through clings to his skin like smoke. 

He ashes it out in the little turquoise ceramic pot on the table, a trinket he’d once picked up in Tala'a Kebira years ago while in Morocco on some other business. You look marginally less irked with the cig put out, but that just means that more of his attention can focus squarely on you, which leaves you a bit wide-eyed under his stare.

“For a while, hm?” Ghost asks. It comes out teasingly, if only to him. The lilt in his voice is a tricky one to catch.

You nod; the note must have slipped through your hands like smoke. “There’s a girl I found online that’s studying abroad right now. Offered to sublet me her room while I look for a place. I thought maybe, um…maybe tomorrow I’d go.”

“Don’t worry about all of that,” he says, already dismissing the conversation from his mind. “Won’t be back for another week anyway—no reason for you to run off if I’m not even around.”

“Oh.” You shift from side to side, thinking it over. “I guess. How long will you be gone?”

“A week. Two weeks tops.” Plenty of time for him to sort out this mess. Figure out what exactly caused you to get all jumpy and eager to try out other people. 

He smiles internally. Little bird probably just can’t stand how often he’s away, poor thing. It’d be enough to make any girl upset—the constant leaves of absence, gone months without being able to send word, showing up bruised and bloody on the doorstep only to have you fall to pieces trying to put him back together. 

There are options though. He’s not opposed to adding someone new either—in fact, he has just the man in mind. 

Ghost has been holding Johnny back because he always thought you preferred to just be with one man (and Christ, the whining he’d had to deal with from Johnny, always begging to see you or begging Ghost for even just your panties, anything at all because he was so desperate and Ghost wouldn’t let him have you), but now?

Now there’s no reason to hold Johnny by the collar when he comes over for dinner. Now there’s no reason to kick Johnny from under the table when he leans just a bit too close to you when you’re sitting down to eat, eyes locked on the glimpse of your chest peeking out of your shirt and damn near drooling on it. Now there’s no reason to listen to Johnny jack himself off to the point of tears while trying to get some shut eye on a mission, the only crumpled up photo that Ghost had ever allowed him to take cupped close to his face.

He really pitied the poor mutt before, no pretty girl at home, his only crush being his superior’s girl. But Ghost is magnanimous—he’s a generous man. If you want to see other people, he has the perfect puppy for you to play with.

When you smile, still a bit unsure, he has to smother a grin. “Okay. I’ll stay ‘till then and look.”

The look Johnny gives him when he brings it up is equal parts disbelief and fevered need. “Say that again, Lt?”

“You’re coming over after we wrap this shit up. Bird’s been asking about a third.”

He chokes, scrambling to his feet. The temporary base is damp, always on the frigid side of things so Johnny’s still in uniform for the most part, the fabric rustling in his haste to get up off his bed. It’s not a place either of them are eager to spend more time in than absolutely necessary. The lack of space means that the two of them are made to bunk together as always, sharing a room with two cots and a small en suite, the tub still wet from Ghost’s shower.

“Christ, yer serious? No joke, sir?”

Johnny pushes his head back into Ghost’s hand when Ghost reels him by the hair, dropping a firm close-mouthed kiss onto the centre of his forehead through the fabric of the mask. “She was clear about it. Why? Gettin’ cold feet on me now?”

“No, sir,” Johnny protests, shaking his head as much as he can in Ghost’s grip, eyes shimmering a bit. “I can bring over a bottle o’ wine if ye like. Somethin’ fancy to set the mood.”

Their closeness is not unusual; Johnny’s always been a tactile man, favouring touch over words. One of their small similarities; their shared modes of existing in the world. There’s a line in the sand where you’re concerned that Ghost has been clear on, but he’s used to always having a hand somewhere on Soap, keeping him close. Now, he gets to keep him even closer. 

His bird really has the best ideas. 

Ghost snorts, knocks their heads together. “Just bring yourself, pup.”

He ignores the way Johnny’s breath hitches, the way he hurries into the bathroom and slams the door behind him the second Ghost lets go. The frantic eager sounds from behind the door when the water runs, only muffling the loudest of his groans. He probably had his dick choked in his fist the second the door shut, a thick nut swirling down the drain within the first five minutes. 

They ship out the next morning, exhausted from the week’s work. No amount of sleep out in the field is ever good enough, especially not in cots barely built to accommodate men of their size. Especially not Ghost. Johnny dozes off on his shoulder in the plane, sinking into a deep sleep to compensate for the hours spent tossing and turning the night before. Ghost uses the flight to get a headstart on his paperwork, enough so that he’s not held up on base when they land back home. 

He doesn’t give you a heads up that he’s home earlier than planned; no need to give you enough time to pack a bag and schlep it over to that place you’d found. It’s better for everyone if you’re caught a bit off guard, just a little frazzled. Ghost’s not entirely unsympathetic—he knows you’ll overthink things if he gives you any time to yourself. 

It’s endearing the way you gape up at him, eyes flitting between him and Johnny, when he finally makes it home. For the few times that Johnny’s been over, it’s not an everyday thing; his visits are always planned and strictly timed, Ghost monitoring him to make sure he doesn’t overstep his bounds. Seeing him with Ghost in your foyer must be strange, must put you on edge. 

“Simon, you didn’t tell me you were—” you start and then pause, swallowing. You look over his shoulder at Johnny, smile stiff, uncomfortable. “Hi Johnny.” 

You’re always a good girl, not wanting to argue in front of company. 

“Heel,” Ghost says, steel in his voice when Johnny almost lurches from his side. The other man glances over at him with wild eyes, almost on the brink of disobeying, but he holds in the end and stays put. Ghost’s eyes soften when he looks back at you. “Have a nice week, pet?”

“Yes—sorry, I’m glad you’re home safe,” you say, flustered, taking his back from him to drop in the usual place in the hall. “I, um—” again, you eye Johnny nervously, unsure of how much you can say in front of him, “—I found a place…for…you know.” 

“‘Course,” Ghost agrees, shucking his boots at the door and giving Johnny a shake by his coat until he does the same. “Missed you too, pet. C’mere.” 

He muffles your protests with his mouth when he stalks forward and pulls you in for a wet kiss, rolling the mask up and off at the same time. You’re a bit stiff in his arms until he slips you some tongue and the resistance leaks out of you, helpless the second he gets his hands on you. Your eyes are still a bit misty when he pulls away, fingers clutched in the collar of his shirt like a reflex. Second nature to cling to him. His chest puffs up at the gesture.

“Thought about what you said the other week, bird, and you’re right.”

You blink, coherence coming back to you, shaking your head to divest yourself of the momentary confusion. “I am?”

“‘Course. Smartest girl in the world, isn’t she, Johnny?” Ghost asks over his shoulder, slipping a hand into your hair at the same time to hold you in place. It makes you frown, his actions not mirroring his words. 

“Aye, sir,” Johnny hums, nodding eagerly. Boots off, he stumbles forward, crowding around you from the other side, not realizing that they’ve backed you into a wall until it presses against you, trapping you in place. “Bonnie ‘n sharp as a whip. Always thought so, sir.” 

“That’s right,” he agrees, tightening his fingers in your hair until you squeal, brows furrowing in that way they do when you’re right on the precipice of pain and relief. “Only a smart, brave girl would ask for what she needs. You’re just lonely when I’m away, isn’t that right, pet?”

“I’m—I’m what?” you splutter, hands planted on Ghost’s chest, trying to push him away to no avail. He hardly notices it. 

“Go on, Johnny,” Ghost murmurs. “Since she asked so nicely. Give her a kiss.”

That’s all his mutt needs to hear. 

You huff and puff with the strain it takes to take Ghost’s cock after a week and a half away. 

You’re always tighter when he comes back, an effort to work you up to taking him again; he lets Johnny get you prepped this time, slobbering all over your pussy in his eagerness, plugging you with three fingers before you’re even close to ready. He gets off on the way you howl, rutting his cock into the sheets of your bed while he keeps you pinned by a thick arm over your stomach. 

Ghost has to scruff him after that. He takes over, running a soothing tongue over where it hurts until you cry big, fat tears and come a couple times. He makes sure you’re taken care of before it gets tough. You’re mindless by the time he moves off you to retrieve the lube from the bedside drawer, only coming back to yourself when he turns you over onto your belly and spreads the cheeks of your ass. It unwinds something in his chest to hear you yelp when he pushes a finger into your ass, like coming home. 

This is why he does what he does: to get this when the job is done. 

It’s not often he gets to do this, usually too big for you to take comfortably in your ass. Johnny’s not that much smaller, in fairness, so he works you up to two and then three fingers before lying down on the bed and pulling you over him. Your legs tremble when you straddle him, fingers digging into his chest when he lowers you onto his cock for the first time in a week. 

“There we go,” he says, grunting when you pull his chest hair a little. “That’s a good girl. We just about done crying now?” 

Ghost smiles when you shake your head stubbornly, eyes still filled with tears. “This isn’t what I meant, Simon.”

“You can cuss me out when Johnny’s done, alright? That make you happy?” 

He almost chuckles when Johnny clambers back onto the bed in his haste to get his hands back on you, his pants still hanging off an ankle until he gives it a shake once his palms fit over your waist. 

“Slowly, pup,” Ghost cautions, reaching around to spread a cheek. He coos when you flinch, whispering for you to relax. 

Johnny’s eyes roll back into his head when he pushes in, hips stuttering forward until Ghost snarls and he stops, letting out a deep, shuddering breath to calm himself down. Even for Ghost, it’s intense; you tighten around him when Johnny pushes in, only letting up when he cups your cheek and draws you down for a kiss, loosening you up with his tongue. 

“Sir, I can—fuck, fuck, fuck,” Johnny whines, back curving when he drops his head. “She’s so fuckin’ tight, I can—swear I can feel you, sir.”

He’s not wrong. Ghost swears he can feel it himself, Johnny’s cock in his pretty bird’s ass while his is stuffed deep in your cunt. You pant through the stretch, words half-croaked out, unintelligible. It’s better that way. He loves listening to you sing, but you’ve been in a right mood these past couple of weeks. Just needed a good lay to sort you out. 

“Simon,” Johnny begs, thrusting forward until he bottoms out in you, making your pulse skyrocket. “I cannae breathe.”

“Yes, you can,” Ghost says dismissively, wiping at the drool slipping out of the corner of your mouth. “Give ‘er a sec and then you can move.”

“So, so, so hot. ‘M gonna come—”

He reaches behind you to wrap a hand around Johnny’s throat, giving it a squeeze. Johnny’s eyes bulge. “You don’t get to come until she does, pup. That’s all the time, got it?” 

He doesn’t pay any mind to how Johnny nods and mumbles his little yes, sirs after that—he’s a grown man, maybe not as grown as Ghost, but man enough to compose himself until you stop trembling and sweating so hard. 

It’d been a mite difficult to wrangle you into bed. He understands. He’d let you talk yourself red in the face about this not being what you meant by ‘seeing other people’, but Ghost hears the said and the unsaid. You wouldn’t be still in his house a whole week later if you really wanted to leave. 

“Alright, pet,” he grins, running his thumb over your bottom lip until it drops open and you let him run it over your teeth. “Hang on now.”

[silkythewriter]

Heyy so weird request but could you do a vox x reader who has a kinda one sided rivalry with him in the sense every time he releases tech she'll challenge herself to make a better version

Vox with a one sided rivalry with reader!

Warnings!: A tad tinne winne bit of angst!, sorry if he’s OOC! (˃̣̣̥ ^˂̣̣̥`)

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel!

Author note!: OOOOOO I haven’t written rivals to lovers in a bit! Hopefully it’s not too bad!

(￣▽￣)💧

Summary!: One sided rivalry with are favorite TV demon (ﾉ ≧∀≦)ﾉ

❤️Written by silkythewriter Do not steal or repost on any other platform please! <3.❤️

★🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮★

“In the morning, you would gone

I'd be mourning, tryin' to hold on To

the memory of your lips God,

I'm so lovesick What have you done to me?“

★🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮★

!📺✨Vox✨📺!

Devastated, like actually in greif

After YEARS of not even a single demon upon billions below in the forsaken place called hell could make a DENT in the empire he built. But then you came along! With all your Gezmos and trinkets! (He refuses to call them anything other then that)

He is insecure, no matter how much he puts a face on about not having a fear in the world. He dose, he’s terrified of being replaced or knocked off the top!

The first time you released something after he did he merely laughed. You? A small tiny little business? What idiot would do that!? Your product was most definitely gonna be looked over!

Or that is what he thought at first (ಡ‸ಡ)…

Soon he realized how quick your growth to fame was. And honestly had a melt down, who even were you?!

He makes back handed complements on his TV show like for example “and on recent news a new technology has been released by *insert your name/company name*, looks a bit cheap but it’s okay for their first time!”

Yea expect those a lot…

He’s use to company’s butting heads with him, but he always squashed them in under a day! If not less!, so he was bewildered when you just kept popping up everywhere. He doesn’t even know how. half of the channels in hell are owned or under his name! Or at least played on HIS tvs!.

And when he released a product only for the next day for it to get a bit over shadowed by yours he loses it. He immediately thinks your doing this on purpose, he thinks your doing this as a means to get his attention.

Will never admit it but he bought one just to break it outta rage but after a bit he understood the hype, will take this to his second death bed.

He’s never had a good look at you before maybe a small invention or gala for some of the highest company owners in hell. And let me tell you when this man saw you he was shocked, it took velvet to snap her fingers for him to get out of his trans-like-state. He’s more embarrassed then he’s ever been, not only are your products prove to be a good runner up to his but you were making min lose his breath.

He didn’t wanna believe at first before velvet confirmed it to him.

And may i say, the minute you glanced at him and gave him a charming smile while waving your hand at him with a small glint of pride in your eyes, he actually had a system crashed screen as his whole system rebooted.

It wouldn’t be long till you made your way over to him trying to introduce yourself(•̀ᴗ•́)و

Honestly he couldn’t think straight until you excused yourself to talk to another business owner. He dosent understand, for all the years he’s been dead how is his heart beating so fast for you?

In denial about any feelings towards you, it can’t be! He despises you !, right?

Takes him a bit to work up the courage to talk to you again, as he introduced himself properly with as much passive aggressive charm he could muster. Only to be confused at your sweet yet passive aggressive smile as you shook his hand with such care

How can someone be so competitive yet so sweet?

We’re you trying to woo him on purpose!?(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

He didn’t understand even though he knew your intent, and the underlying nature in your interaction. He still found it charming, and shocking at you technical level and marking tactics. He isn’t happily impressed, but he is definitely impressed, he would never show that though of course.

It always seemed no matter how much of a short time between releases you always managed to make it better he just didn’t understand how!. How did you have such short time to perfect something that he’s been working at for months!

He soon realizes out shinning you or squashing you business wasn’t gonna work. You guys were too evenly matched, it would be through pure luck that one of you would out shine the other one day and not the next. So he did the best next thing, purposed a business deal (quite reluctantly might I add)

To just merge company’s he knew your rise wouldn’t falter anytime soon.

At first you felt like this was a trick, to steal your soul or take you out while your walls were down. But he quickly explained it’d be easier to just have you work on things and share the profit (surprise, surprise)

Now you can decide weather you accept or not!

But after that meeting he would call you over for many more strictly for business meetings! Definitely not just desperate to spend time with you or anything

Even when you proposed to just, email, or text, he still declined saying he found it easier to say what he needed out loud. Definitely…. (≖ᴗ≖✿)

Sooner or later you’d catch on, or some people on the news would gossip of your “secret affairs”

You would soon confront him about this, and let me tell you this man is decent at standing under pressure in some if not most situations expect this one.

I feel like he wouldn’t admit it till MANY months later cause he’s just that stubborn

He just hates it, he hates your stupid smile, the way you make his stomach do back flips, the small glint of happiness and pride when your product is loved and bought by the millions. He hates the smile you keep even if at a rivalry with him. He hates everything about you, he hates it, he hates it so much he ends up realizing he loves it.

Yea he is one complicated man….

But once he finally admits it, and you end up giving it a shot. This guy would try to act like he wasn’t about to shut down, like his inner fans and vents weren’t about to self implode, he’d act cool and collected about it but behind closed doors he’s quite literally smiling like a dope

NOW if this were released to the public, the mess that would ensue is scandals upon scandals.

I mean! Imagine the head lines! “Two of hells most biggest company rivals now together?!”

News is fast to spreed lemme tell you that

I feel like he would rather have the relationship private but if it got out…let’s just say he wouldn’t stop it either per say (¬‿¬)

Overall! I feel like even if it was a one sided rivalry I feel like it would quickly turn to both of you butting heads. Cause to out shine the king of tech himself is quite the challenge, and you being able to do that says a lot!, he’ll be holding a grudge even into a relationship and still would get competitive here to there he would definitely still study your work to see how you improve so fast!. Still in the end of the day he’ll still dote on you behind close doors!

ପ(๑•̀ᴗ-♡ॢ)⋆*✩

★🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮★

WOWZA THAT WAS ALOT OH MY GOSH

ヘ（。□°）ヘ

I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!, I haven’t written rivals to lover plot in a bit BUT MY GOSH NESS ITS VERY FUN TO PLAY AROUND WITH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING PLEASE COME AGAIN! Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

did some force take you because i didn’t pray?

── aegon x fem!reader (you’re one of helaena’s lady’s in waiting)

the 2 times Aegon had someone there to comfort him

(i’m slightly changing things but just go with it pls)

small a/n before we begin: no use of y/n, i do my best to avoid descriptors BUT do use she / her and mention reader being shorter than aegon. when he hugs / holds you he is able to rest his head on yours. also i know everyone has titles and long names but to save time and also make it easier i just use first names. changing aegon’s rant just so im not word for word with the show.

also disclaimer: i know aegon is not a good person by any means! this is just the alternate reality version of him where things could turn out different if he’s shown genuine love and care

For as long as you’ve known the Targaryen family, it dawns on you one day that you’ve never seen Aegon cry.

In the beginning, that didn’t mean much. You were one of Helaena’s ladies’ in waiting, and only ever saw the then prince on occasion.

Then Aegon was crowned King, and you saw him a bit more as Helaena was required to be present at what felt like too many ceremonies. Because you were almost exactly the same age, although it was against an unspoken rule, she came to see you as a friend.

When the twins were born and Helaena saw how good you were with them, it seemed to anyone who was around that she wanted you near at all times. She practically begged you to begin sleeping in her chambers to help with the fussing and crying at night, and of course you said yes. It occurred to you later that night that she could’ve just demanded it.

It wasn’t long at all before the twins also formed an attachment, as their mothers need to have you close by didn’t lessen even as they got older.

Though they both loved you, Jaehaerys in particular, was very fond of you. Jaehaera was a lot more independent and chose to play with her dolls or little trinkets by herself. But the boy, the other ladies’ in waiting and even Helaena herself, often called him your little shadow.

Whatever task you were given, it wasn’t uncommon for Jaehaerys to be nearby. As he grew a little older, he began to ask questions.

Once, he asked why his mother wore such fancy dresses, but yours and the rest of the ladies’ were only ever plain. It hadn’t occurred to you that because you spent so much time with him and had a big hand in raising him, he saw you as family and genuinely didn’t understand why you dressed differently.

Luckily, you didn’t need to answer. Aegon appeared from around the corner, calling for his son. Once Jaehaerys ran to him, he gave you a nod before grabbing his sons hand and leading him in the opposite direction.

To the King, you were a mystery. He knew his sister preferred you to the other ladies’ in waiting, and he knew she’d rather you over any of them to be looking after the twins when she was busy, but he didn’t know why. Still, his sister was set in her ways, and in the end he simply decided it was best to not ask questions. Even he could see that you cared deeply for his children, and for him that was enough.

On the day Aegon wished for his son to sit in on a council meeting, Jaehaerys was being a bit difficult that morning. For whatever reason, he refused to go unless it was you that escorted him.

After assuring him that you’d only get the boy in the room and then quickly make your exit, Aegon nodded and led the 2 of you into the room.

Just like you knew he would, Jaehaerys immediately went for “the ball” as he called it, in front of Tyland Lannister. You could see irritation immediately all over the man’s face, but to his credit he did his best to hide it.

The third time the ball was grabbed, you were the only one that heard it when Tyland snapped. The meeting hadn’t yet begun but you could see he already wished it to be over.

“That child doesn’t belong in here,” he muttered to himself, unaware that you could hear him.

“I will escort him to his mothers chambers now. Is the heir to the throne bothering you a bit too much?” That last bit slipped out, and you immediately regretted it as the room grew silent and all eyes turned to the 3 of you. After a few tense seconds, most everyone resumed their conversations.

You slowly stood up, Jaehaerys now on your back as that was the only way he agreed to leave the room. “Apologies Ser Lan—”

“Hold on,” the room stilled once again when it was Aegon that spoke this time. He looked at you, then back at Tyland. “She has nothing to apologize for. And I believe she asked you a question. Is the heir to the throne, my son, is he bothering you?”

Even Alicent opted to look down and fiddle with her hands rather than step in. You didn’t think you’d ever been more grateful for Aegon that in that moment.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

ONE.

On the night Jaehaerys was murdered, you were knocked unconscious. You’d later find out it was the man they called Blood that hurt you, but at the time all you knew / remembered was waking to a loud noise. Immediately you got out of bed, but before you could properly realize what was happening, you felt something sharp across your cheek. And before you’d even had time to cry out, something hard hit the side of your head, causing everything to go dark.

When you woke, you ignored the maesters requests to stay in bed. As soon as you stood up, you almost wished you’d listened as you immediately felt dizzy. That was also when you felt the stinging pain of the cut on your cheek. The maester explained that you wouldn’t need to have it stitched up, but he hadn’t yet bandaged you because even in your sleep, you tossed and turn whenever he tried to tend to that injury.

After agreeing to not over exert yourself, you were off to find Helaena. It was then that another one of the ladies’ in waiting broke the news to you.

When you were let in to Alicent’s chambers, and locked eyes with Helaena, she immediately stood up from her spot on the floor and ran to you, Jaehaera still held tightly in her arms.

“Are you alright?” You knew she would be with the maester if she were injured, but you still had to ask. “They said—”

“He’s dead,” was all Helaena could say. That and “they killed him”.

What felt like an eternity later, and you’d gotten Jaehaera to sleep and convinced Helaena to at least lay down with her, you were unsure of what to do. Only a few moments later, you found yourself wandering the halls. Every inch of the place had been searched almost immediately, so you know that the halls were alright once again.

Part of you felt like you didn’t have a right to mourn Jaehaerys, as he wasn’t actually your son. You were just trying to process the fact that you’d never see his little smile again. Never again would you turn a corner and be greeted with that sweet voice asking where the 2 of you were going, because him staying with anyone else was out of the question.

You were one of the first to hold him after he was born, and had seen him every day since. To already be in a world where he no longer existed, it seemed cruel.

When you stopped walking, you realized that you’d come to Aegon’s chambers. The doors were obviously closed, and you had only managed to take a few steps back the way you came, when you heard them open.

“Oh, good,” you turned around, surprised that it was Alicent that had spoken. “Did Helaena send you?”

You stuttered as you tried to form a response, but she seemed to take your silence as a confirmation.

“He’s distraught, obviously. I’m not sure he’ll speak to you but…” she seemed unsure of herself. In the end she sort of motioned towards the doors, before turning and walking away.

Before you even raised your hand to knock, you heard sobbing. It was then that you realized you were wrong. Yes, your heart could break even more.

It didn’t escape your notice that Alicent left the room as her son was sobbing. You knew she wasn’t the comforting type, but you couldn’t imagine simply walking the other way.

After a few knocks, you weren’t surprised when there was no answer. As you slowly opened the door, then shut it behind you, you thought to yourself that you should’ve thought about what to say beforehand. Here was this normally stone-faced man, showing more emotion now than he had in the entire time you’d known him. And after more thought, you realized that perhaps Alicent had tried to comfort him but was asked to leave.

“Who is there?” Aegon finally seemed to notice someone else’s presence, but hadn’t actually looked up. His head remained in his hands, and you could hear him trying to quiet his cries.

“I am sorry, I— I just thought I should check on you.” You noticed how pathetic you sounded only after the words left your mouth.

He let out a humorless chuckle, then slowly stood up and made his way towards you. “Check up on me?”

You nodded. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Stupid question to ask if you’re okay, I know.”

He studied your face for a moment, and his guard came down ever so slightly. He believed your concern to be genuine. And for Gods sakes, his own mother couldn’t even comfort him. She left quietly and Aegon knew it was in the hopes that he wouldn’t know she’d ever entered the room.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to answer you. Instead he returned to his sitting position, once again leaning forward so that his head was in his hands.

“I should’ve been there,” he spoke so softly that you didn’t quite hear him.

“Pardon?”

He looked up at you, fresh tears in his eyes. “I should’ve been there!” When he saw how you flinched, he regretted being so loud. But a larger part of him didn’t care. You were the first person to allow him to speak freely. He needed to let out his emotions somewhere. “I should have been there. But I thought who’d be stupid enough to try anything here? Look at how wrong I was.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” you shook your head.

“That is bullshit!” He stood up and began pacing back and forth. “My son is DEAD! It was an act of revenge, why else do you think the rest of you were left alive?”

You were about to ask if they already know who is responsible, but it’s as if he read your mind.

“My brother kills her son, so she has taken it upon herself to exact revenge, a son for a son!” He laughs, but again there is no humor in his tone. “My son, the heir to the throne, he is gone. Murdered while he slept and I did nothing!”

As he sat crying, you kneeled in front of him. Trying not to think about it too much, you placed your hands on his and forced him to look at you.

“Everyone around knows how much you love that boy. And he loved you just as much.” You decided it was better to not repeat that he couldn’t have done anything. Right now in front of you, was a father who needed to grieve.

Aegon knew he should be cautious. His sister knew you well, but he did not. He was already ashamed that you’ve seen him cry. Yet you didn’t seem repulsed. You allowed him to rant and didn’t try to shove advice down his throat. His son was gone, but you reminded him of the love that existed, that still exists.

The angry part of him wanted to shout at you to leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to yell again in that moment. So he allowed your hands to remain on his as he cried for his son.

You prayed that no one would walk in, as you stood up and pulled Aegon up with you. Before he could ask what was happening, you gave him a hug.

His first instinct was again, one of anger. He resisted the brief urge to push you away. After a few seconds, he even surprised himself when he almost melted into your touch. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he was in someone else’s embrace like this. And you didn’t ask questions. You only held him and listened to his heartbeat.

He found himself crying again as he returned the gesture and wrapped his arms around you. Although he knew he could never speak of this, and he’d have to ask that you not do the same at some point, he allowed himself to do nothing but mourn the loss of his son as you held him in your arms, and you in his.

He was grateful that at least in this moment, you allowed him to grieve.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

TWO.

After that, there was a noticeable change. Aegon gravitated towards you if he entered a room and you were already there. Everyone noticed, but none dared to speak on the matter, not even Alicent or Otto.

You heard about the meeting in which it was ultimately decided that Jaehaerys’ body would be placed on a carriage led through the streets, so that the public might see just what Queen Rhaenyra was capable of. You didn’t think this was her doing. How could a mother who has just lost her son, inflict that pain onto someone else? Surely she wouldn’t. But everyone else was so sure. And you were but a low-born lady in waiting, so you remained silent.

The thought of Jaehaerys being used, paraded through the streets for all to gawk at, it angered you. Yes, he was a prince. And you understood the message that they hoped it would send, but it didn’t make you any less upset. He was just a boy. You thought of the boy who would run into your embrace whenever you walked in to his mothers chambers.

You couldn’t even imagine how Aegon was feeling. He loved that boy deeply, and you had no doubt that he was pressured into agreeing.

That same night, you were abruptly woken up. Immediately you looked to Helaena’s bed, filled with relief to see her and Jaehaera fast asleep. But it alarmed you that it was Ser Criston Cole of all people, who’d woken you up.

He put a finger to his lips, then turned and exited the room. You made sure you looked at least half decent before you followed him, wondering what on earth possessed him to wake you at such an hour.

“I—” He looked unsure of where to start.

“Has something happened?”

“It’s the King.” He didn’t wait for you to respond, instead turning and practically running out of the room.

As you chased after him, it did occur to you that it was odd for him to fetch the King’s sisters ladies’ in waiting. You also realized that he never technically responded when you asked if something happened.

When the 2 of you finally reached Aegon’s chambers, Criston didn’t even open the door. He didn’t need to though, you could hear the shouting and loud noises from outside.

“Who else is in there?” You fiddled with your hands, unsure of what you were walking into.

Criston merely shook his head. “No one. He kicked everyone out. But I know you helped him that— that night. Can you…?”

Without giving it a second thought, you nodded. Instead of leaving, Criston sort of stood guard right outside the door. You’d seen Aegon angry before, and were secretly relieved that he was outside should anything go wrong.

This time, you didn’t bother knocking. You did, however, try to open and then close the door as quietly as possible.

“I declare war!” It was the first thing you heard since entering the room, and you didn’t bother asking who he was declaring war on.

“My King —”

It was as if he was in a sort of angry trance. You speaking didn’t even cause him to look in your direction.

“I want them all dead! They’ll all pay for this, every fucking one of them!” As he spoke, he moved about the room destroying King Viserys’ carefully and meticulously constructed display.

You could see he needed to let his anger out. And didn’t exactly want to approach him while he held something that could hurt you. Not that he intentionally would, but seeing as he had no reaction to you calling out to him, you didn’t think it wise to sneak up on him.

As the smashing and destruction went on, you could see Aegon begin to wear himself out. It wasn’t so much that the anger was leaving his body, but rather that he was losing the energy to continue. Now, you thought to yourself, was a good time to gauge where he’s at mentally / emotionally.

“My King—” you tried again. This would be a moment you’d come to regret, seeing as you hadn’t considered the fact that Aegon was so blinded by his rage that he hadn’t noticed it was you in the room. Sure he heard the doors open and close, but he assumed it had been one of his men.

Not registering who it was that just spoke, and only hearing that someone was interrupting his rampage, he turned around with an arm swung out. It ended up being sort of a backhanded slap, and unfortunately he was wearing a ring.

Once he realized it was you that he’d just harmed, Aegon froze. His eyes widened and he immediately dropped to his knees.

“Are you hurt? Did I— did I…” He didn’t seem to know what he wanted to ask.

You put a hand to your cheek and examined your fingers, nothing a small amount of blood. He hit almost exactly where you were cut, and by the feel of it you guessed that his hit reopened the wound.

“It’s fine,” you tried to reassure him. “I am sure I will be healed in no time. There is no need—” Before you could finish speaking, he’d fled from the room, but not before hurriedly asking you to stay put.

Only a short while later he returned with the maester quickly following behind him.

As the man tended to your face, you could practically see the gears turning in his head as he debated on speaking. In the end, he decided to ask the question.

“How did you manage to reopen this wound?”

Luckily for you, you’d studied the room and had your answer prepared.

You pointed to a spot on the floor where a glass of wine lay spilt. “I slipped just there. Tried to steady myself and ended up landing on my face and cutting it with one of the broken pieces.”

Because you spoke immediately and with such confidence, your lie was believed.

“Might not heal as well if it’s opened a third time. Still doesn’t need stitches, just try not to fall again, eh?” He gave you a pat on the shoulder before giving you a small jar of ointment to apply to the cut, instructing you to apply it once a day.

As soon as the man left the room, you studied Aegon. He was pacing the entire time, only stopping once the maester had left.

“Why?” He whispered.

You knew what he was asking. “I did not think it would do any good for him to know the truth. I know you didn’t mean to,” you shrugged.

He was almost in a state of shock. Here he’d just injured you, accidentally, sure, but it was still done in anger. And it wasn’t that long ago that he broke down in front of you. Despite all of that, you were still kind to him. You covered for him.

Aegon fell to his knees once again in front of a large portion of the mess he created. “I’m sorry,” he spoke softly.

“My King you do not need to apologize. As I said, I know it wasn’t on purpose.”

He looked up at you, fresh tears in his eyes, and you lost count on how many times your heart broke for him. You joined him on the floor, and put what you hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t do anything right,” the first tear fell, but he didn’t bother wiping it away. “I allowed men to break in and murder my son, and this is twice now you’re hurt because of me.”

The fact that he blamed himself for it still, brought tears to your eyes as well.

“No one thinks this was your doing, and I swear to you that I don’t blame you.”

He was silent for a moment, deep in thought. “How am I meant to continue?”

His question caught you off guard. “Pardon?”

“My son is dead. Murdered, and my dear sister that claims to be the rightful heir may not have held the knife but I know she commanded the men that did. How am I supposed to to sit on the throne and continue to rule as if none of this has happened?”

“I do not think anyone expects you to act as if nothing has happened —”

Hearing that caused Aegon to laugh. “Have you met my mother? She is one of the many against me declaring war.”

“This tragedy —”

He cuts you off once again. “Tragedy? Hah! Understatement of the fucking year. And people are already speaking about my sons murder as if it’s a lesson! My grandfather, dear old Otto Hightower, wants to parade my sons body for all to see. Says it will show them the kind of Queen that Rhaenyra really is. You should’ve seen how many nodded their heads in agreement. How do I just hand him over to be stared at, as if he is no more than a piece of meat on display at the market?”

“I hate this,” you finally get a chance to speak. “Jaehaerys was the sweetest little boy I kno—knew. And I wish his death wasn’t being used in this way. A tragedy should not always be a lesson. Sometimes it should be allowed to be just that, a tragedy. I am truly sorry you are having to deal with all of this.”

Something about what you’ve said causes tears to spring to Aegon’s eyes. Perhaps it’s the way you speak so kindly of his son. He knows you genuinely loved the boy, after all. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” His quiet sobs begin as he echoes your use of those 2 words, and when you turned to face him, he practically falls into your embrace. You stop counting how many times he utters I’m sorry. In between the I’m sorry’s, he mostly said his sons name, but you heard your name as well as Helaena and Jaehaera’s.

Night turned into morning and Aegon finds himself in your arms once again. Eventually his sobs had slowed down, and he fell asleep, laying on the hard floor with his head in your lap.

As he slept, you allowed yourself to run your hands through his hair, just for a moment. Aegon let out a content sigh, finding comfort in your movements even in his sleep.

Here was this boy who was feared by many, who didn’t ever want anyone to see him as weak, and yet twice he allowed himself to cry and grieve in front of you.

At some point, you gently wake Aegon and convince him to get into bed.

As you take one last look at him before exiting his chambers, you can’t help but silently hope that the future would be a little kinder to him.

TAGLIST — @blupblupfish | @sapphirest0nes

If you’d like to be tagged in future Aegon pieces, let me know!

[r3starttt]

okay okay!! how about reader gets back late from patrol (so tlou au) and ellie was all worried and it’s super cute and fluffy?? (change it to your preferences if you like :)

THESE WALLS

PAIRING: Jackson! Ellie x reader

CW: fluff. outbreak|tlou universe. brief-non detailed mention of overwhelming thoughts such as fear of loosing loved ones and stress.

DON'T BUY TLOU | PALESTINE MP PALESTINE LINKS | DAILY CLICK

TAGLIST

The night lay thick with a stillness so profound that even the faintest sound seemed to echo with unsettling clarity. Ellie, trapped in the small sanctuary she had carefully curated, paced restlessly. Her gaze was perpetually drawn to the door, its unyielding silence a stark contrast to the usual rhythm of your return. Each passing moment stretched infinitely, laden with a tension that seemed to deepen with every tick of the clock.

The dim glow of a solitary lamp cast a soft, golden haze over the room. Walls adorned with wooden murals and comic book covers. Delicate strands of Christmas lights wove their way across the space, their faint twinkle casting a gentle, warm light. Yet, despite the serene ambiance, Ellie’s heart was a storm of unease.

She attempted to distract herself, but the mundane details of her surroundings blurred into an indistinguishable haze. Every action seemed to drift by in slow motion, her frustration mounting with each fruitless effort to quell her growing anxiety. She knew in her rational mind that the patrol was fraught with danger, but her deep-seated fear of losing those she loved clung stubbornly to her thoughts.

The creak of the door shattered the quiet, sending Ellie’s heart leaping to her throat. She dashed to the entrance, the door swinging open to reveal you, looking slightly disheveled but otherwise unharmed. Relief surged through her, though it was quickly overwhelmed by a tidal wave of emotions.

As you stepped into the room, the scene before you was both touching and a little comical. Ellie’s usual dorky charm had been replaced by a palpable anxiety. The carefully decorated room, filled with her beloved nerdy trinkets, faded into the background as your focus honed in on her distressed face.

“Hey, sorry,” you said, offering a weary smile. The concern in her eyes was evident, and you could tell she had been struggling.

“We ran into a few more infected than we expected. It took longer to clear them out,” you explained, trying to reassure her.

Ellie’s response was sharp, but it was laced with an undertone of deep-seated worry. “I was starting to think… I don’t know, shit had happened.” Her eyes, usually so full of mischief and laughter, were now wide and brimming with concern.

You stepped closer, the old floorboards creaking softly beneath your feet. Her fingers drummed impatiently against her thighs, her gaze darting over you in a frantic search for any signs of injury.

Ellie let out a deep sigh, rubbing her temples as though trying to ward off a headache. “It’s not just about being late. It’s about you being safe.” Her voice faltered, and she turned away momentarily, struggling to regain her composure.

You reached for her hand, gently enveloping it in your own. “I’m here, Ellie. Safe and sound. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

Her eyes met yours once more, shimmering with a blend of relief and lingering anxiety. “I know, but it doesn’t make it any easier—never mind,” she murmured, her words softening as the harsh edge gave way to a tender vulnerability. Her usual playful demeanor was momentarily eclipsed by her raw, heartfelt fear.

Drawing her into a tight embrace, you felt her tense muscles slowly unwind against you. “I’m here,” you whispered into her ear, your voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You gently cupped her face in your hands, pressing a soft, loving kiss to her lips. When you finally pulled away, a small, contented smile graced her face, her eyes reflecting the warmth of your affection.

“Hey…” you murmured, leaning in closer. “How bad do I smell?” You playfully nuzzled against her, inhaling her comforting scent, the familiar fragrance and the fabric of her hoodie enveloping you in warmth.

Ellie chuckled, a soft hum escaping her as she considered your question. “Baby diapers," your quiet laughs mingling.

Your lips beushed over hers, one last tender kiss on her lips, savoring the moment. “I love you."

“I love you too,” you replied, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “And I’ll always come back to you.”

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Bucky and R are coming back from a long vacation, R gifting him cheesy, mass-produced trinkets with his name on them. Bucky feels bad that he didn’t get her anything, but R tells him that he did— she’s pregnant.

Best Present Of All » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Bucky thinks he didn’t get you anything when you two when on vacation, but little does he know that he got you the best present of all.

Warnings: Fluff, language, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator. My apologies, I couldn’t find the blog who made this gif.

“It feels good to be home.” Bucky sighs, walking in yours and his apartment. “Don’t you think?” He asks.

“Yes, but I enjoyed vacation with you.” You say, standing on your tippy toes to kiss his lips.

You and Bucky just got home from a month long vacation. You and Bucky planned it months ago. Anyway, you two are happy to be home.

“I’m gonna unpack and put our dirty clothes in the washer and I’m gonna go through the trinkets I got.” You say, giving him a kiss on his stubbly cheek.

“Sounds good to me.” He says, giving you a small smile.

Bucky’s smile slowly faded away as you walked to the laundry room with yours and his dirty clothes. He went to the living room and sat down on the couch, slouching back. He turned the TV on and surfed through the channels. He couldn’t find anything so he just put on Netflix and put your favorite series on. He put the remote back on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch, leaning his head against the back of the couch. He closed his eyes briefly till you came in the living room.

“Are you tired, baby?” You asked.

“No.” Bucky opened his eyes and sat up. “I was just waiting for my gorgeous wife.” He says cheekily.

You put a few different bags on the coffee table and sat down next to your husband. You grabbed the first bag and pulled the cute floral sundress out of it you found at a cute little boutique.

“What do you think of this?” You asked for Bucky’s opinion, holding it against the front of your body.

“You already asked me what I thought of if when you bought it, doll.” He says.

“I know. I just want to hear you say it again.” You say.

“I think…” Bucky leans towards you. “You’re going to look drop dead gorgeous in it.” He says, kissing your lips.

You smiled against his lips and put the sundress down. The second bag was from a a little store that had keychains and lanyards with names on it. You bought Bucky a few of them in different colors.

“I got these for you.” You tell him, handing him the small bag.

Bucky took the bag from you and looked inside of it before taking one of the keychains out of it.

“James…” He reads out loud. “It has my name on it.” He looks back in the bag. “All of these have my name on them.” He says, turning his attention to you.

“I know. I thought they were cute and thought you might like them.” You say, kissing his cheek.

As you continued to go through the bags of trinkets you bought for him and some for you, Bucky quickly realized that he didn’t buy you anything and immediately felt bad.

“I found this at the-” You stopped mid sentence when you seen the sad look on his face. “What’s wrong, baby?” You asked with concern in your voice.

“You got me all of these nice trinkets and I didn’t get you anything.” He says, feeling bad.

“Oh, baby…” You caressed his cheek, rubbing your thumb against his stubble. “You did get me something.” You softly say, almost whispering.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to figure out what he got you.

“I’m pregnant.” You tell him with a big smile on your face.

Bucky’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. You have never seen Bucky this speechless.

“I- we’re having a baby?” He asks speechlessly.

“Yes.” You answered, nodding your head yes.

A squeak left your lips when Bucky tackled you against the couch, hugging you tightly.

“We’re having a baby!” He says with excitement in his voice.

“We’re having a baby!” You confirmed.

Bucky then kissed you with so much passion that it took your breath away.

“When did you find out?” He asks.

“The day before we left for vacation.” You answered.

“The day before we- doll, that was almost a month ago.” He sat up on his forearms so he wasn’t crushing you. “Why didn’t you tell me when you found?” He asks.

“I wanted to surprise you.” You say.

“Truth me, I’m more than surprised.” He says.

Bucky leaned down and kissed you again.

“Thank you for giving me the best present I could ever ask for.” You say against his lips.

“You don’t have to thank me, doll face.” Bucky whispers. “It’s takes two people to make a baby. It’s my present too.” He says.

“I love you so much, baby.” You say, kissing his lips.

“I love you too, doll.” He kisses you back and moves your shirt up to kiss your soon to be baby bump. “We love you too, little soldier.” He says softly.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll

[pretty-little-mind33]

Pietro Maximoff x stark!fem!reader

Summary: You've always hated Pietro for his player tendencies—turns out he's never hated you at all.

Genre: Fluff, hurt and comfort (enemies to lovers)

Warnings: implied fuck-boy!Pietro, reader is Tony Stark's daughter (no physical description), reader hates Pietro in the beginning, mentions of blood and gun wounds, swearing, because Sokovia isn't real- I used Czech as Pietro and Wanda's language (i don't speak Czech so i used translating sites…if it's wrong, pls tell me)

~ thank you to the anon who requested this! this is my very first time writing for Pietro, please tell me what you think! ~

PIETRO MAXIMOFF MASTERLIST

Your father has always been overprotective of you. 

He usually doesn't involve you with his affairs when you're with him and not at Mom's, choosing to have your room as far from any Avengers as he possibly could. At sixteen, you didn't like this—you felt like you deserved to live normally in your own home—so when he asked you to become friends with his newest members, Twins from Sokovia who also happened to be sixteen, and make them feel welcomed, you were more than happy to do so.

You liked Wanda Maximoff from the first moment you met her. She seemed quiet and shy in the beginning, but she also has this fiery side to her that you admire. She never took shit from anyone, including her brother. 

Pietro Maximoff was very different from his sister. You remember standing in your room, your dad by your side, with an unamused Wanda in front of you as a blue blur sparked across the room, occasionally skidding to a stop and knocking over some books or picking up some trinkets and making unnecessarily judgmental and overly excited comments.  

"Pietro," Wanda hissed, "Přestaň (Stop it)."

His sister's warning had only made his grin widen, his silver hair falling over his strikingly blue eyes as he returned next to her, his arms crossed. "Promiňte (Sorry)." You didn't know what he'd said, but it didn't sound like he meant it. 

"Wanda," he pointed to his sister as he introduced her, and then his grin turned into a smile. "Pietro," he said, pointing to himself, and then he outstretched his hand with no awkwardness or hesitation. You looked down and then up at him again, turning to your dad with an unsure expression but when he nodded, you shook Pietro's hand.

"Y/n," you whispered with a smile, and as you shook his hand, what could have been the start of a wonderful friendship, should have started that day. 

Should have.

In the beginning, it was childish teasing—which involved stealing things from your room and hiding them around the tower because it made Pietro laugh, running past you in the halls so quickly you'd almost fall over, or jokingly ruining any chances with any boys at school because he'd stick his nose in business that never involved him. 

Most of the team and your dad found your banter funny—encouraging the same boys will be boys' bullshit that meant that as the years passed, your dislike for Pietro only worsened. 

It especially didn't help when, by seventeen, he'd found out he was pleasant enough to look at and that girls seemed to adore his boyish charm. So, any chance he had, he'd either heavily flirt with girls at school, or find excuses during missions to pick up any pretty girl he came across. 

Of course, this behavior only increased in his twenties and made him all the more annoying—especially since you began working the coms and the computer for when the team was out on missions. Ever since Ultron, your dad now trusted you more than a robot. 

You're curled up in your chair, your headphones on as you watch the multiple screens in front of you. Some have news outlets playing out the scene while others have the biometrics of Iron Man's suit and the others' suits to make sure all is well. You also have every member in your ear as your fingers glide over the keyboard.

"Dad?" you switch the coms and touch the microphone. 

"Yes, Y/n?" Tony Stark's voice echoes in your headphones and you smile. 

"I can try and hack into the network of that bastard's suit if you want?" 

"Actually, Y/n, can you locate Quicksilver for me? He was supposed to evacuate all the civilians but I can't reach him anymore. Could you try? He always answers you,"

Great, Pietro duty—again.

"Can't I do something more useful?"

Tony chuckles, making you glance at one of your computer screens where you can see him hovering in the air, protecting the civilians on the ground from some shit-bag escaped prisoners who had taken over some secret government-type weaponry and causing all kinds of havoc.

Steve and Natasha seem to be handling the situation with some tact, while Wanda looks like she's having fun crunching the weapons in the men's hands with her mind. All in all, the team seems like they're handling things just fine without Pietro around. 

"Quicksilver is useful to me, darling. I know he's not your favorite person right now, Y/n, but he's a valuable member of my team and I need you to find him for me."

You huff. "He was never my favorite person," you whisper roll your chair over to another keyboard, and disconnect Tony from your headphones. You bite your cheek and hit enter. "Pietro? Hello?"

No answer. 

You change the signal. 

"Wanda?"

"Hello!" Wanda answers and you hear some commotion in the background. 

"Where's your brother?" you ask, "he isn't answering me."

"I don't know," Wanda says and after a moment she adds, "I can feel him though."

"Thanks," you say, although she'd been completely unhelpful. All you'd learned was that Pietro was definitely alive—which wasn't really a concern of yours since you hadn't assumed something happened to him. You just assumed he was missing.

"Y/n?" 

You hear him in your headphones and you quickly change the channel again, pressing your lips closer to your microphone. "Pietro," you say.

"Yeah?" Pietro sounds like he's running, "What's up, Princezna (Princess)?"

"Don't call me that," you say, knowing damn well he'll call you that anyway. He always has. "Tony wants you. Where have you been?"

Pietro laughs. "I got a little distracted, Moje srdce (My heart)." You hear what sounds like another pet name—he calls you that from time to time you just refuse to ask him what it means.

You want to ask him what he means by distracted, but you assume it has something to do with him getting some girl's number so you don't want to know anymore. "I'm on my way back now so no need to worry your pretty head about me."

"I wasn't worried about you," you say instantly, "I was ordered to find you. Very different."

"Sure, Princezna, sure," Pietro says, his voice husky as he stops and takes a breath. "When are you going to fess up and admit you like me, hm? This cat-and-mouse game has been fun and all, but c'mon, what will it take for you to understand? Tady mě zabíjíš (You are killing me here)."

"Understand what?" 

"Understand that I–" Just as he speaks, you hear more familiar voices and shouting in the background and you look to one of the screens from a news outlet where you can see that Pietro is back with the team, only he's not running anymore. No, he looks like he's swaying. You stand to look closer at the screen. 

"Pietro?" you call into the mic, trying to understand what happened until you see him fall to the ground, clutching his side as his blue suit stains red. He must have stopped running for a moment and one of the fucking assholes dressed in machinery must have shot him. You panic and run to an opposite computer and change the channel one last time. 

"Wanda?" you whisper, your voice hoarse and shaky as you look back at the screen and see that Clint has found Pietro, and Wanda is running up to them too. "W-Wanda?" you try once more, watching her on-screen as she tends to her brother and ignores you.

You feel completely powerless.

* * *

When everyone comes home, you feel stupid as you greet them. Most of the Avengers send you sympathetic smiles as Tony walks up to you. Clint, Wanda, and Pietro aren't with them. You look up at your dad, feeling embarrassed that you're worried for someone you claim to hate.

Tony's expression softens as he hugs you stoically, he's not much for this type of affection but he can see you need this as you bury your nose into his shoulder. 

"He's being checked now but nothing serious," your dad sounds calm, "he's fine, darling."

You pull away, forcing a look of nonchalance as you. "I- I know that I- I didn't care either way," you lie shamelessly.  

Tony shakes his head, sounding exhausted when he says, "You're so stubborn, just like your mom." He ruffles your hair and kisses your forehead. "You can see him in a bit, I'm sure. I'll tell Wanda to come find you when he can have visitors."

You nod and spend the next few hours pacing your room, nibbling at the skin around your nails until you taste blood and finally, someone walks into your room—only it isn't Wanda. It's Pietro himself. He's wearing a slightly wrinkled tank top and a pair of slacks hung loosely around his hips. It's almost sinful. He grins cockily and runs a hand in his hair, his shirt riding up to expose his stomach. You stare at him, wide-eyed and your hand drops from your mouth. 

"What are you doing out of bed?!" you say, sounding more worried than you'd intended.

"What are you? My máma?" Pietro laughs and leans against the edge of your vanity. "I heal quick," he shrugs and looks around your room. He hadn't been in here in a while. He smirks. "Still sleep with Teddy, hm?" he hums. 

You feel warmth in your cheeks and you send your poor beaten-up-with-love Teddy-Bear a glare as if it was his fault you still slept with him in your arms at twenty-four. "Ha ha, funny," you mumble and move to stand in front of Pietro so he can't make fun of any more of your belongings. "No– I don't. Can you leave now?"

Pietro crosses his arms and tilts his head, his blue eyes piercing into yours. "Stark said you wanted to see me." 

Of course, he did. 

You narrow your eyes. "Well, I have seen you and I see you're fine so now I've changed my mind," you say with a shrug and point to your door, waiting for him to make the decision and leave. 

"You don't even wanna ask why I was distracted out there?" Pietro says and a smirk curls his lips.

"No–"

You feel the wind in your hair and in a blink, he's standing much closer to you with a slight pant—as if he'd just run—and he's holding a small bent bouquet of roses in his hands. He holds them out for you and you stare at them in disbelief. 

"What are those?"

"Roses."

You glare at him. "I know that but why?"

"I saw them and thought of you," he says so nonchalantly you almost don't believe him.

"What? When?"    

"When I was helping the civilians," Pietro shrugs and his eyes are intense. He pauses after a moment and raises his hand, his knuckles skimming your cheek. You freeze, warmth spreading all over your cheeks as you panic internally. "Saw them in the park and I wanted to get them for you."

Your eyes widen. "Isn't that illegal?"

Pietro smirks. "Not if it's done in the name of love, Princezna."

"I don't think that's how that works—" Realization dawns on you and you feel like you're spinning. "Wait, wait, what did you just say?" 

Pietro laughs and his hand moves to tuck some hair behind your ear, smiling. Maybe he's excited but you can feel his skin vibrate on yours. Your heart is pounding so heavily and your mind is screaming at you that this is all a trick and this is what he does with girls. He throws around the l-word and expects women to fall at his feet. He's a player.

"What I was trying to tell you before I was rudely shot, is why haven't you caught on and understood that I'm madly in love with you?"

What?!

You blink at him and then take a step away from him, shaking your head as you force a laugh. "Pietro, this isn't funny. It isn't funny to mess with me like this. You know how I feel about you playing with my feelings—"

Pietro frowns. "Playing with you?" 

You roll your eyes. "Please, it's just not funny, okay?"

"You think this is a joke, mé srdce (my heart)? Ach, můj drahý (Oh, my dear)," Pietro says in a whisper and moves closer to you again, his hand reaching for yours as he hands you the roses.

"I'm not messing with you. I tease you sometimes, but my feelings are real. I haven't messed around with any women in years—minus that mistletoe kiss—" he rubs his nape, mentioning the time you'd caught him and an office girl kissing at last Christmas party. He didn't mean for that to happen, and even less for you to see him. 

You're really trying to understand him now but nothing is making sense. "You have feelings for me?" You whisper, your eyes wide. You feel like you've entered some alternative reality. "You can't just say things like that now, Pietro. It's not fair."

His expression turns more serious than you've ever seen him. "I'm not saying this lightly, Y/n. I know I've been a jerk to you, but I was a stupid kid who didn't know how to express his feelings and then it was too late because you hated me. But, I have always cared for you, miláček (darling). I really have."

You move back, your eyes round, processing his words. All those years of childish teasing, all those petty arguments you'd had, and all the jealousy you've felt suddenly hit you like a train and you're left broken and bruised. He had feelings for you? You've been pushing him away because you were scared of how you felt about him.

"Why now? Why did you choose to tell me all this now?" you ask, shaking the roses in your hands as your voice trembles.

Pietro exhales. "Because when Wanda mentioned me how worried you were about me, I realized how much I need you in my life. Need you beside me. I didn't want to hide my feelings anymore— and I picked those flowers wanting to confess anyway. I want to be with you, Y/n. No more games, just us."

You feel a mix of relief and fear. Deep down, you've wanted to hear this for so long, but it's as terrifying as you'd imagined. You look up at him, walking in closer and you can hear your heart in your throat when you run a hand in his silver hair, holding him and pulling him down to meet his lips.

You've convinced yourself this would be confirmation. Confirmation that this was a bad fucking idea. Instead, his kiss is intoxicating and it makes your mind go all fuzzy. Of course, he'd be good at this, he'd been quite the whore—your thought is interrupted by Pietro pulling you in closer and deepening the kiss, his hand finding your hip. 

You gasp, leaning up into him as the world as you'd known it crashes around you. 

"Sakra, Princezna (Damn, Princess)," Pietro murmurs into your lips, holding you close. "This is so much better than I imagined."

"You imagined this?" you say, sounding more teasing than you'd anticipated as you're left breathless from his kisses. 

Pietro hums. "All the damn time," he admits and kisses you again.

After more kisses, he finally pulls away. "So, is that a yes? You want be with me too?" he asks hopefully and you look into his eyes, taking in his excitement. You don't dare even think of breaking his heart as anyway, your swells at the mere thought of being his. 

You nod but then smirk and pull him back in for a kiss, your hand fisting his shirt, "Kiss me some more and then I'll tell you."

And he does just that.

[xo-cod]

forgive the inaccuracies, idk much about babies <3 ooc/rushed :)

simon w his baby but she has a preference for one parent and it's not him

simon finally coming back to his safe place, his sanctuary, his home, all but eager to spend some needed time with his family. be had been off to a mission, the last one for a while to make sure that everything was okay. he had already been incredibly reluctant to leave you but now that you both had a baby, it was hard. not a second was spent on the field where images of the pair of you blazed through his mind, almost nearly costing his arm and leg in the process of being too distracted. it had been hell to say the least

but the day finally came, there he was finally on his way back after an intense gruelling month. simon saw you first, bundling you up close in his built arms enjoying your little chuckles that fell from your lips. removing his balaclava as he peppers tender kisses across your cheeks before your lips, his soft smile growing at how happy he was to be back. before he set you back down, eyes scouring about for his bundle of pure joy

"where is she, lovie?? i missed her so much, i got her a little trinket from the place we were deployed in, hope she likes it" he chuckled softly, opening one of his pockets to reveal the gift as he catches his baby on the carpet playing with toys babbling away. his heart was practically bursting at its seams, shedding away his utility vest and his gear to make sure nothing could hurt her before he gently padded his way over. he had different ways the evening would pan out but he hadn't expected this.

he didn't ever expect to be met with a blank stare in return

his heart dropped when he picked his little girl up, she was too busy playing with her favourite toys to even react to him. he hadn't anticipated her looking at him like a stranger. he could've cried with the way she wriggled out of his grasp and wanting to be let down as if he was some enemy. as if instead of being the protector he was now the very thing he swore to keep away from his child, a stranger.

his face like a kicked puppy when he looked at you with pure shock and pain, looking back at the baby who was eagerly crawling back to you having wanting nothing to do with him despite him trying to come closer. you could see all the happiness he previously had practically disappeared from his body, his shoulders deflating with sadness and pain

she couldn't recognise him, she was no longer a daddy's girl

"honey.... sweetheart, it's me, dad. daddy's here. c'mon, c'mere munchkin" he tried to chuckle, kneeling down opening his muscular arms only for her to blink at him and then look back at her toys again

"lovie.... what's going on?" his voice is so soft with hurt and shock looking back to you with huge shining eyes as if he had encountered the worst loss till date. suddenly the mission he had just been on was nothing, the weight of his child preferring you over him was crushing his heart into pieces he didn't think he would come back from. how he'd do any mission 10x over if it meant his child, his treasure would love him again

•••

and it remained that way for the next week, he tried his utmost best but it never seemed to be good enough for her. you tried to console him but he remained dejected, she was always wanting to run back to you. to be comforted by you and to be held by you. every time he tried to tuck her in, his efforts simply proved fruitless. she would cry and cry until you came back in and he watched from the side never feeling like he had failed so hard before in his life.

it hurt more than any of the superficial wounds he ever managed to get in battle, it hurt more than him being on his literal deathbed all those times he was caught in the cross fire. and it only propelled him further into despair when he made the mistake of googling it and realising that this phase may very well last years.

you could see him break with everyday, doubting himself as a father and as a husband. blaming himself and letting the doubt plague his heart and mind. it seemed nothing could comfort him apart from his baby that wanted nothing to do with him. he hadn't managed to hug her at all, he missed being able to snuggle her soft skin for hours. lounging around the home with her cuddled up in one arm as the other gently rubbed on the back of her head soothingly holding her close to his heart. and the thought of never being able to cuddle her without the cries that accompanied it was more than he could bear, it hurt more than anything he had gone through

that was until one night, he was tiredly going to the bathroom and pausing over the nursery. he hadn't meant to but he peeked in and saw her laying in her crib half asleep. her eyes big and brown exactly like his, blinking up slowly at the lieutenant. she was quiet apart from the small sounds she made sucking on the pacifier, a soft bunny in her hand as she peeked back at her father.

"hey baby...." he whispered so softly, he didn't even think she had heard. but her head tilted in curiosity and he chuckled, his hands coming to rest on the walls of the crib. desperately aching to feel her soft skin but too nervous to agitate her

"it's me honey, your dad. i really.... really miss you" he broke off, his heart feeling so heavy as the guilt came barreling in once more. it was his fault that he left her for a month, he shouldn't have been so surprised when he came back and preferred you. you had been there when he couldn't, she developed an attachment with you, not with him

"i'm so sorry to have left you for a month, honey. if i had known- if i thought for a second you'd hate me-" he didn't have the heart to finish the words, the guilt overriding his senses. with a soft sigh, his forehead leaned against his palm for a moment. his own baby didn't like him, he hadn't felt this low in a long time.

he promised he would never raise her in a volatile environment like he had grown up but already he hadn't been any better. he left her knowing for a month, coming back to see her favouring you. and it wasn't easy on both of you, he knew that. he knew he was being irrational but it stung more than any cut, the fact that if he hadn't made the choice to go on the mission that his baby wouldn't be acting so strangely around him.

simon didn't expect anything more tonight, too scared to touch her in case she started crying so he settled for placing the blanket back over her and heading off to bed with a heavy heart. what he didn't expect was the small coo coming from her lips, her tiny fist wrapping up over his index finger. his heart was in his throat, eyes wide at the sight as he looked back to her sweet innocent face again

"me?? you want me?" his voice was so gentle, too scared to speak loud as if this was all a beautiful dream he would wake up from. hesitantly he had reached down, his breath held as his large hands wrapped around his baby so delicately as if she'd shatter beneath his fingertips. slowly sitting down on the rocking chair, the moonlight pouting through the window illuminating her features.

how everyone around claimed she was a carbon copy, how proud he was to call her his daughter. all the moments that they shared running through his mind like a montage and she tilted her small head up at him, a gentle giggle falling from her lips before she rested her weary head against his warm chest. he could've cried and he did, gently but firmly holding her body between his hands. thanking whatever goodness he had done in his life that she was back, his baby was back. and she loved him just like before. she recognised him, she wanted him willingly. it was enough to break him out of whatever funk he had been in, trying desperately not to sob happy tears after a long gruelling two weeks.

you woke up the next morning to see simon laying on the rocking chair, one hand protectively over her small back while the other locked around her little legs as they both slept peacefully. his cheek leaning against her forehead as they cuddled up close on the rocking chair, both making the exact same sleeping face causing you to hide your growing smile and snap a little picture of the tender moment.

she truly was his little mini.

[macabr3-barbi3]

I know you’re on a Vox kick rn but if you get back into Al anytime soon I had a bit of an idea!

Maybe reader was hanging out with Al, not realizing he was courting her (and she was technically accepting) and then she went out and basically cheated on him bcuz she had no clue they were low key together.

Anyway he totally flips and PROVES they’re together…?

I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AHHHHHH

I did go the nsfw route with this one so 👀👀👀 I hope you enjoy!!!

Tags: accidental cheating, semi-public sex, , possessive Alastor, tentacles as a gag sort of lol

MDNI 18+ 3.3k words ❤️🦌

You didn’t think anything of Alastor’s raised eyebrow when you accepted Angel’s offer to join him out at a club, or how his clawed hand grips his cane a little bit tighter when he spots you coming down the stairs in the outfit that the spider had picked out for you. You give him a smile and a wave on your way out the door, and if his eye twitches a little bit, well- Alastor was a weird guy.

Which didn’t negate the fact that he was hot as fuck; not to mention a complete gentleman, and funny, and overall kind when he wasn’t in a murderous rampage and eating people. And sure, he had gotten a little closer to you lately- you enjoyed a cup of coffee together every morning, he always made sure to save you a seat at the dinner table, he would get you little trinkets and bits of jewelry or treats when he was out and about in the city. Whenever you accompanied him to Cannibal Town he insisted on paying the tab, and always made sure to walk you back to your door before retiring for the night; he would invite you to his room for evening tea, and you had fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder only to awaken tucked comfortably into your bed more time than you could count. Last week he had even given you a peck on the cheek instead of just the back of your hand, a sweet blush overtaking his features before he vanished into the shadows, and it took everything in you not to grab him before he disappeared and invite him into your room.

Because Alastor wasn’t interested in those things. That was what you heard from everyone, from Angel, from Husk when you had drunkenly confessed to him at the bar one night. That it was better to just put the idea from your head, the Radio Demon has never shown any inclination towards things like love and romance or sex. You were loving getting closer to him, becoming a companion he enjoyed spending time with, but you had needs that couldn’t be met by the sweet words and kind gestures of a friend.

Hence, your presence with Angel in Consent. He was here to drink and dance; you were here for that as well, but also maybe a quick hookup in one of the club’s sex rooms. It had been far too long since you’d had a decent tumble in the sheets, and the continuous frustration at being so close to Alastor and perpetually unable to touch was driving you mad. You took the first drink that Angel handed you and knocked it back in one go, smiling when the spider whooped like a lunatic and dragged you out onto the floor.

More than an hour of accepting drinks from Angel (he was the one with money between you) and dancing with any and everyone, it was almost, almost what you needed. The air was hot with how many demons were jammed into the space of the dance floor, sweat dripped down your face and the small of your back, and your chest heaved with the force of your breathing when you finally opted to take a break. You squeezed Angel’s arm in a temporary farewell and made your way to the bar. You thought about putting one more drink on his tab but decided against it, opting to ask for water instead.

“Excuse me,” you hear to your right, and you’re met with the sight of one of the demons that Angel worked with; not one of the actors, but maybe a cameraman? Light technician? Either way, he was someone you had seen around Val’s studio before when you came to collect him at the end of the regularly scheduled nights. He was tall and attractive, and his eyes had seen too many of the shoots in Vee tower because they were just screaming ‘fuck me.’ “Think your boyfriend would object to me buying you a drink, pretty thing?”

“Considering he doesn’t exist I don’t think he would mind,” you say, and when he smiles all sharp teeth at you the low buzz of arousal isn’t quite the same as it usually is with another razor-tipped grin.

He wasn’t Alastor, but you would make do.

-.-.-

It’s barely ten minutes later that you’re walking back to the hotel alone with a stain on your nice, borrowed skirt- you figured with Angel’s line of work he would know how to get it out. You had texted him that you were going home already, too miffed about the shitshow in the sex room to ask him to accompany you, pissed enough that you think you can handle any asshole that might try to mess you with on the way. Val’s lackey had hardly managed some kissing and fingering before thrusting himself into you and giving a few quick pumps before he groaned and stilled against you. Pulling out, he trailed across your hiked up skirt and asked if you had ‘gotten there,’ and you laughed in his face before pulling your shirt back up and leaving.

“Fucking men,” you were muttering under your breath, not noticing the shadows that slipped along the sidewalk behind you as you walked with the strange sensation of the man’s release on your thighs. “Either not interested in sex at all or so fucking eager for it they bust before I can even fucking-”

Something slips around your head and covers your mouth, effectively cutting you off. Your hands come up to grab at it, tear it away, and another circles your waist, dragging you back into the dark shadows of a nearby alley. You bare your claws, eyes flashing red and preparing yourself for a fight when you realize the demon before you is Alastor.

A supremely angry Alastor, by the looks of it. His smile is tense and strained, eyebrows drawn down low in a glare as he looks down at you, nearly a full head shorter than him but refusing to cower under his rage- not realizing that you should probably be scared. “Fuck, you scared me,” you start, pulling the slack shadow tentacle away from your mouth, only for it to tighten once again and force you back into silence.

“This manner of betrayal,” he says carefully, like the words are being plucked from him with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel, “is unacceptable.” His voice goes full static, the intensity of it almost hurting your ears. “Of all the scum that inhabits Hell I’d never have expected this from you, cherie. Tell me,” he demands, trailing a clawed finger down your cheek and removing the shadow over your mouth. “What could have possibly possessed you to act in such a manner?”

“Alastor, what-” The heat of him so close to you, not quite touching but close enough that the slightest movement would slot your bodies against one another, has your brain fuzzy. “Betrayal? What are you talking about?”

“I can fucking smell him on you,” he snarls, and now he does step close enough to touch, caging you between his body and the wall behind you. “His cologne on your clothing, his release on your skin. You claim to not know what I refer to when I could just as soon touch the evidence beneath your skirt before you could deny it?”

A hand comes down to the bottom of your skirt, toying with the hem, and you nearly choke on your breath. The dying arousal you had felt earlier from the demon in the sex room returns at full force, even as confused as you were with the situation, with what Alastor was saying. “Why- fuck, why does that matter? Alastor!”

You cry out in surprise when his fingers reach under your clothing, the brush of his thumb against your inner thigh before he pulls back, the thin substance of your partner’s cum coating his finger. Your face flames with heat when he brings the digit to his mouth and fucking sucks it clean. Somehow, this seems to calm him, his breath steadier and his eyes losing some of the murderous glint to them. “That you would lower yourself in this way,” he murmurs, his smile twisting into something sarcastic and hurt, “when you’ve had an attentive, willing beau this entire time that you’ve not deigned to touch, or asked to touch you in return?”

“B-beau?” His hand has returned to the space below the hem of your skirt, tracing patterns into the soft skin there, only distracting you a little. “What-”

“Perhaps a lesson, hmm? To remind you of who, exactly, you belong to. Of course darling, we’ll first have to rid you of the evidence of your transgressions…” And in a move that shocks you almost as much as it makes your stomach clench and swoop, the Radio Demon drops to his knees on the damp, dirty asphalt of the alley.

Your breath punches out of you when he looks up at you, head level with your lower body, and asks, “or do you have any objections to that?” With his hands fisted in the fabric of your skirt.

“No! No objections, fuck, please” you manage, and then your pussy is met with the cool air of the night as he shoves your skirt up and your panties simply vanish. It’s hardly a moment of anticipation before his tongue is pressed against you, warm and slick and circling incessantly at your swollen clit and then dipping down, licking at you with determination that makes you cry out, the sound echoing in the alley. “Alast-” 

A tendril of shadow pushes past your lips, and Alastor hums against your pelvis below you. “Quiet now, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your sensitive bundle of nerves with every word. “Already one person too many has seen you in the throes of passion tonight- I’ll be damned if there is another.” He licks your drenched folds again, the strong line of his nose keeping pressure on your clit as he angles his head and pushes in, and your hands fly off the wall to clutch desperately at his hair. The sounds coming from where he’s connected to you are loud and lewd, wet suckling noises as he bends and twists his agile muscle inside of you.

The tentacle thing in your mouth isn’t large enough to choke you, and tiny snippets of sound still escape you from Alastor’s ministrations. Your body feels like a livewire, crackling with energy that stems from where he feasts on you and threatens to shatter outwards, destroying everything in its wake. He pulls back and you whine at the loss, the shadow petting your tongue almost soothingly when Alastor looks up at you, eyes wild. “Almost finished, dear,” he murmurs. “I’ll ensure that every trace of that cretin is gone- he tastes vile, not even this much of him deserves to be anywhere near you.” He releases your skirt at last, his fingers pressing against the entrance of your cunt with a smile and his tongue swiping the evidence of what he was cleaning you of. “A cheap substitution for me, to be sure; allow me to provide a more refined alternative.” His finger hooks inside of you, mindful of the clawed tip, and drags slowly, brushing against that soft spot inside that makes you see the white of static behind your eyelids, makes you clench down hard on the digit before it slides out and Alastor stands to his full height again, satisfied that he has successfully removed the cum of the stranger, hands at his waistband and pulling his belt open with a clink of metal.

He hikes your legs up around his waist, and you feel the hot length of him pressed against your sensitive flesh. "Will you allow me to take you, darling? Feel the sweet clench of you around me at last, and erase every remnant of the unworthy sinner before me?"

“Fuck, yes, Alastor,” you pant when the tentacle slips from your mouth, and fucking finally his lips are on yours, and its everything you had been fantisizing about for months. His tongue glides against yours, licking into the wet cavern of your mouth, and you moan at the taste of yourself on him. Your voice is lost between his teeth when he presses into you, his cock like velvet coated steel against your inner walls, still pulsing and twitching from being right on the edge of your own orgasm. He groans into your mouth when he reaches the hilt, his hands tightening their grip on your hips and bucking his own forward to sheath himself further inside of you.

“Divine,” he murmurs against your mouth, sharp teeth catching on your lips and causing blood to pool on your tongue before he can suck it away. “Perfect, darling- well worth the wait, even considering the situation we find ourselves in.” Its frankly unfair how well spoken he still is, even as he steadily pounds into your willing body without so much as a catch in his breath. “I’ll never again be satisfied unless I am on the verge of spilling into the tight heat of your body. How does that sound, d-dearest?”

Finally his voice cracks, his body stuttering against yours as he fights to maintain his control. “Please,” you whisper, “please, I’ll do anything- I need it.” He laughs against your neck and drags his tongue over your sweaty skin, the hard length of him inside of you more perfect than it has any right to be. He fucks into you with a reckless abandon that was surely going to get you caught, moans and whimpers tearing themselves from your mouth when he occasionally releases your lips to nip and suck at your skin. “I’ve wanted- for so long, please…”

“You could’ve had me,” he growls, “at any time. And instead you’ve come to this den of delinquency and allowed another to take you instead. But we’re fixing it now, darling-” His hips slam hard into you, the sound of his balls slapping your skin with every thrust the only thing you can hear under his moans, under yours, the cries that echo within the space between you.

A hand comes up to cup the back of your head, pulling you closer not for a kiss but to rest his forehead against yours. “Tell me,” he demands, and it feels like a plea with how wide and manic his eyes are, how desperately he bucks and grinds into you. “Tell me you’re mine. Promise you’ll never go to another again- that I am enough.”

“Yes,” you agree breathlessly, “yes, Alastor, please-”

“Say it,” he snarls, his sharp teeth snapping inches from your face, his smile possessed as he pounds into your cunt with a feverous need. “I need you to say it, darling, my doe, please-”

“Yours- oh fuck, please, always yours, Alastor- no one else, never again-” He cuts you off with his tongue licking into your mouth, like he means to steal your breath, to swallow you whole from the inside. He releases your head to rub skillfully at the sensitive bundle of nerves above where you’re connected, and your world goes white as you cum, a scream lost into his mouth as you shake in his embrace, internal walls clamping down with brutal force, the hard length of him inside of you more perfect than it has any right to be.He loses his rhythm against you, his pelvis stuttering with a couple more sharp thrusts before he stills, spending himself inside you with long, hot pulses that make you shiver in the aftermath of your own orgasm.

You stand there trembling against one another for a moment before Alastor assists you in standing on your own feet again, righting your skirt and getting rid of the stain on it with a snap of his fingers. He keeps his hands on you after he’s tucked himself away, over the curve of your waist, your arms, fiddling with your hands in the space between your bodies. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft and hurt.

“I must know, darling- what was I lacking?”

Your eyebrows scrunch. “What do you mean?”

“In my courting,” he clarifies, and cups your cheek in one hand. “I so wish you had come to me first if you had needs to be met- surely you must have a reason for why you didn’t do so?”

“Courting? What are you talking about?” 

He freezes, the static fading from the air around you in mere moments and Alastor searching your eyes. “I mean myself, of course,” he says, and while his voice is clear there’s a hint of surprise to it. “We’ve been courting for the better portion of a year.”

“We’ve what?” You think of the closeness you had shared for a while, the gifts and friendly touches and such that you had been interpreting as mere platonic affections. “Oh Satan,” you breath, as you realize you’ve been misunderstanding this whole time- he wanted you to touch him. He wanted to touch you- he was upset thinking that you had gone elsewhere when he would have been more than happy to-

Alastor’s hand leaves your skin and he takes a step back. “You… you accepted, dear,” he says imploringly. “My- my gestures, my affections. I thought-'' His eyes widen and his smile goes tense, his entire body following suit. “It would seem I owe you an apology, darling. I see that the situation at hand has come about of my own incorrect assumptions.” His shadows retreat, the shape of his form already less than corporeal when you let your hand dart out to wrap around his arm as he tries to slink away.

“No! Wait, please, I didn’t know-” He resolidifies before you, his expression still guarded as he looks down at you. “I promise- if I had known I would have never come out with Angel tonight. I thought- everyone told me you weren’t interested in sex or relationships, so even though I had those feelings I wasn’t going to make it your problem.”

“Hence your presence here tonight.” He sighs, the tension melting from his body as he comes closer again, reaches out for you and holds your face in his hand. “I was trying to be courteous in my courting of you; taking it slow so as not to startle you away. You truly didn’t realize with the time I spent with you, the small gifts and gestures?”

“I didn’t want to assume anything and make you make a run for it.”

Alastor shakes his head, a small, half annoyed half incredulous huff accompanying the movement. “It seems a bit of communication might have saved us both the wasted time. I admit I feel like a fool, for not simply being upfront regarding my intentions.”

You also felt like an idiot- instead of talking to him you had let the others scare you out of months of what could've been nights full of blissful pleasure rather than frustrated tossing and agonizing over your own feelings. Just before you could open your mouth to tell him how sorry you were for the mess you felt you caused, he was already speaking, his voice soft and yet rough around its edges. 

"Well, then let's not cry over spilled milk. Too many moments were wasted already, we won't waste one another with useless apologies, since I believe both of us have made our standpoints quite clear a few minutes ago, don't you agree, darling?"

As if to help you recount, he presses his forehead on yours, a slender arm wrapping around your waist, and you can't help but smile back at his grinning face. He doesn’t release you as he allows you both to drop into shadows, and you can’t wait to see what life will be like properly at Alastor’s side.

[missberrycake]

So, I know we all love the headcanon that Eddie moved in with Wayne when he was a teen or a pre-teen, be it because one or both parents died, chucked him out, are in prison, etc. But! I’ve been thinking about another option.

What if Wayne has been looking after Eddie since he was a toddler?

It all comes as a bit of a shock to Wayne who, in his early forties, had pretty much assumed he’d missed the boat on the whole ‘kids’ thing. And yet, here he is, taking in his baby nephew when his brother turns up on his doorstep one day.

When it starts, it’s only supposed to be for a short while. His brother’s wife is newly out of the picture (it’s a crying shame, Wayne had liked her, she’d stayed a gentle soul throughout) and he just needs some time to get himself sorted, right? But then a week turns into a month, turns into two months, turns into half a year and Wayne? Well, he gets attached to the kid, so sue him. 

Because little Eddie is a rambunctious boy. He’s full of gummy smiles and bubbling laughter and Wayne runs himself in circles trying to stop him from toddling into sharp corners and sockets and yards of rope. The two of them are well suited, it seems, and Wayne takes to settling Eddie on his knee in the evenings and going through the races for the next day in the paper.

Eddie chooses a winner more than once. 

Every day, when Wayne comes to pick him up from Julia’s two trailers over (he’s still got to work, something his brother hadn’t considered before he left, or maybe he didn’t care), Eddie greets him with his arms out, already chatting away with the handful of phrases that he knows. 

The boy’s hair is soft and his cheeks smooth and if Wayne gets a little sentimental when he tucks him into bed at night, then nobody else needs to know, do they?

He’s a sweet boy. He deserves someone to care for him. 

So when his brother turns up again with vague mutterings about there being some work for him down in Florida, Wayne’s chest aches. 

“What’s your plan for the littl'un?” he asks.

“Ed? Whad’ya mean?”

“I mean, have you got a place to stay lined up? Who’s gonna look after him while you’re working?”

“I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

He shrugs and Wayne feels something close to panic bubbling in his veins. When he suggests that perhaps his brother should travel ahead, get himself settled first before sending for Eddie, he doesn’t expect him to agree so readily. He can’t say he’s much surprised though. 

The entire exchange doesn’t take more than ten minutes and his brother doesn’t ask after Eddie once, doesn’t show any desire to see him, doesn’t even step inside the trailer—not one jot of fatherly affection shines through. 

It only occurs to Wayne that evening that perhaps this was the outcome his brother wanted. But, hell, it’s fine with him—he’ll let him think he’s winning. Wayne knows who’s got the real prize here. 

He doesn’t mention the visit to Eddie, the kid doesn’t need to know, too busy digging holes and collecting bugs. 

Just like he expected, his brother never sends for the boy. They get letters for the first few years, poorly wrapped and ill-thought through trinkets for the kid’s birthday and Christmas, but it’s not long until they fall by the wayside too. 

Once Eddie’s older, they have a conversation about it. Have to, really, when Eddie comes home from preschool and is full to the brim of questions, because apparently Peter Gillespie says that everyone has to have a mom and a dad, “and I know I have a mom because you’ve told me about her and I said that she’s not around and Mrs. Lang told Peter to be quiet but then I thought about it, but I don’t know, ‘cause you’re my dad, right? I know I don’t call you dad, but that’s what you are, isn’t it? Because what else would you be and Peter says I have to have one.”

It floors Wayne for a moment, but he recovers quickly. He leads Eddie to the couch where he sets him on his lap. For the next while the two of them look through all the pictures that Wayne can find of Eddie’s mom and Wayne’s brother. Wayne makes sure to hold him close and tells him it doesn’t matter that he’s ‘just’ his uncle, that he loves him as much as he would a kid of his own, that he’ll always be around to take care of him. And Eddie takes it all in his stride, in the way only children can. 

“So I can’t call you dad?” he asks.

Wayne lets out a long breath, rubs at his jaw. 

“It’s not that you can’t, kiddo, it’s just that I ain’t.“ 

Because it feels a little like stealing. What would happen, if one day his brother came back and found his kid calling Wayne ‘Dad’. If the boot were on the other foot, Wayne would be angry as all heck. And there was still time, wasn’t there? For his brother to see the error of his ways? Who was Wayne to keep all of that from Eddie? 

“Okay,” Eddie says quietly. “Uncle Wayne is still good.”

“Oh, it’s still good, is it?” Wayne crows and squeezes Eddie tight. “I’m sure glad I meet your high standards, your majesty.”

Eddie just giggles at that. He always giggles when Wayne puts on his voices. 

“And what would the esteemed gentleman like for dinner tonight, huh? The options are spaghetti hoops, spaghetti hoops, or - now let me think. Oh! Spaghetti hoops.”

The nail in the coffin comes one day in the summer of 1978, just before Eddie’s twelfth birthday. It’s been over eight years since his brother dropped him off in search of better things and sure, there have been some days where Wayne has been tearing his hair out, but through all of it he knows he made the right decision that day in the doorway of the trailer. He wouldn’t change Eddie for the world, and he knows by now that there are some out there that would, who would only see the difficult or the different in him, but isn’t that what being a parent is? Loving your kid no matter what? Seeing the good in them and helping them see it themselves?

When his brother slams the door shut on some car so shiny that Wayne wonders if it’s fresh out of the packet, he knows they’re in for some trouble. 

“Nice car, man,” Eddie whistles from where he’d been lounging on the plastic chairs out the front of the trailer. Clearly the sight of something so drenched in luxury in their neighbourhood makes it so that he just can’t help himself.

Wayne’s brother grunts in that way that he always did when they were younger, like he’d gotten away with something. 

Wayne just watches, then, as his brother nods at the book in Eddie’s hands. “A reader, are you?” he says, a joke in his voice. “What’s this? Always knew there were brains in the family somewhere.”

“It’s ‘Lord of the Rings’,” Eddie replies, uncertain. His gaze flicks to Wayne, who nods. Funny, that the kid was quiet now, he’d been ranting and raving to Wayne about that goddamn book every spare second of the week. “It’s got orcs and wizards and elves in and stuff.”

“Fairytales?” his brother scoffs. It grates on Wayne like a physical thing. “What you been doing to the boy, Wayne? Here.” He turns back to Eddie. “You know me, kid?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“I’m your old man! So you like cars, do you? Want to go for a spin in her?”

“You don’t have to Eddie. Not if you don’t want,” Wayne pipes up then. He knows his boy well enough that he can see the internal war going on behind his eyes. And, hell, it is a nice car. Eddie bites his lip and stares at Wayne, eyes wide, asking permission.

“‘Course he wants to.” And his brother is already walking back to the driver’s side door. He winks at Eddie. “Gotta lot of catching up to do, ain’t we?”

“Hold this for me?” Eddie asks and hands Wayne his book before jogging away.

There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach when Wayne watches the dust trail behind the car as it leaves the trailer park. He sits out on the porch all afternoon, eyes flashing towards the road every few minutes. It isn’t until almost dusk that it careens into the park once more. 

The passenger door slams violently and Eddie stomps towards him.

“He’s not my dad,” he splutters as he pushes his face against Wayne’s shoulder. Wayne can feel where his cheeks are hot and flushed.

Cradling the back of Eddie’s head with one hand, he mutters gently, “Yeah, son, I know.”

And how had he ever thought that man could be Eddie’s father? No, Eddie may still call him ‘Uncle Wayne’, but they’ve gone well beyond that and both of them know it.

Directing Eddie back inside the trailer, Wayne sends a small nod to his brother where the man is still lingering by his car door, looking faintly murderous. 

Let him try, he thinks. No one’s taking his boy from him now, come hell or high water.

[Yeah, I'm scouring the archives and trying to salvage as many headcanons as I can from my old deleted account, but let's just pretend this is brand new content.]

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)wife

Chapter IV: Never Going Back Again 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Aemond answers your performance of 'Dreams' by singing yet another newly composed song during rehearsal. This time, you can't contain the rage he elicits within you.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, smut, hatesex, rough sex, oral (m. receiving), spanking, pussy slapping, fingering, P in V, choking, degradation, manhandling

Word count: 4880 A/N: Thank you always to my love Justine, @theoneeyedprince for helping me by having a look at the edited version 🩵

Bringing Aemond’s old hoodie on tour feels like harbouring a shameful secret.

You’d felt weak enough when you spontaneously brought it with you when you moved out of your shared flat. And when you realised it was the only thing that could make you fall asleep any time anxiety weighed heavy on your chest.

So when you packed your suitcases to tour the Seven Kingdoms, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to leave it behind. But the shame of still needing it; still needing the memory of him, resulted in you storing it away somewhere no one would see it, least of all yourself. 

Until you sought it out. 

You wake up still curled on the side of the large bed, Aemond’s scent encompassing you.

How long will his smell linger on the fabric?

Soon, it’d disappear and you’d have no trace of him left. 

You reach Winterfell the next day. Luckily, you’re allowed a small break before the next performance, leaving you some time to explore the city and rehearse with the band. 

You spend your day sightseeing in the capital of the North; grabbing coffee with Helaena and window shopping around the bustling city centre. 

Despite the quick friendship you had established after joining the band, your relationship with Helaena has become greatly strained following your separation from Aemond. 

You know she hates the tension and the fighting. She has a habit of closing off and retreating whenever she feels uncomfortable, and having two band members in an infected conflict is not something she finds easy to navigate. You still love her like a sister, and you know Aemond holds her dear as well, so you try to spare her from it all, even if your attempts aren’t always successful. 

“We’ll be late for the rehearsal if we don’t leave soon”, you tell her as she’s eyeing a pair of sparkly firefly hair clips. She nods absentmindedly in response and picks up the clips, 

“I know, I know. Let me just get these”, she answers with a smile, heading towards the register.  

Helaena pays for the newest addition to her endless collection of insect trinkets, and you leave for the venue you’ll be performing at in two days; Winterfell Arena. 

This is going to be your biggest show yet. 

When your management booked the arena you were scared of not selling enough tickets to justify such a large space. But you’d been pleasantly surprised by the interest shown in the North. The last tickets had just sold, and it would be your largest audience to date. 

Entering the arena, you’re taken aback by its sheer size. You can’t believe you’ll be performing in a place like this, and to a sold-out crowd. You’re suddenly hit with an overwhelming sense of nauseating anxiety. Will you be able to give them a worthy show? 

Will you be good enough? 

The constant self doubt that plagues your mind had been easier to handle when Aemond was by your side. He’d always been your biggest supporter; chasing away all your inner demons with his reassurance. 

He always made you feel better. 

Now, you were left alone and with nothing but doubt keeping you company. You miss having someone to soothe you by your side. 

Miss having someone to confide in. 

To rely on. 

The stage’s larger than any you’d ever been on before. You try to shake the nerves taking over you, but it’s hard not to get overwhelmed by the size of the hall. It’s intimidatingly large. 

You and Helaena begin to set up and prepare for tonight’s rehearsal, and Jace, Erryk and Aemond drop in one by one to join. You’d expected the latter to have his usual gorgeous companion on his arm, but he surprises you by showing up alone, five minutes after the time you’d all agreed upon and without saying a word. 

It isn’t like him to show up late, and you can feel the stress radiating from him, though he stays quiet. 

You know he’s been working on yet another song for the new album, and today he mentioned in the group chat that he’d like to play it for you during rehearsal. 

He’d sent you the name; ‘Never Going Back Again’. 

Is it about his relationship with his grandfather?

When Aemond told Otto Hightower that he wanted to quit working for him at Oldtown Solicitors in order to fully focus on his music career, his grandfather had nearly cut all ties to him. 

In a particularly weak moment, he’d even given you a call, insinuating that you were a bad influence on his grandson,

“I let him entertain this silly band for the sake of Helaena and Aegon! I even let him do a minor in history at the university I financed. And yet, he meets you and suddenly wants to give that all up to record an album? Talk some sense into him, won’t you?” 

Aemond had been furious when you told him about the call from Otto, making it clear to his grandfather that he’d never go back to working with him or in property law. He’d been prepped and groomed since birth; the perfect heir to carry on the Hightower legacy. Not as flaky or unreliable as his older siblings. Always the dutiful son. 

Aemond moves across the stage to grab his bag, pulls out a water bottle and places a tablet on his tongue.  

You realise he must’ve been late due to the pain of his eye injury flaring up again. Despite his recent awful behaviour, you can’t help but feel bad for him. 

When you first started dating, you’d been scared of asking about his eye. Evidently, it was a sore subject, and you didn't want to pry. Eventually, he told you about the car accident he was in when he was 10. 

He’d been in the backseat of the family's car with his nephews, engaging in a petty fight. As the driver tried to de-escalate the situation in the back, he lost control of the vehicle, crashing it into a large tree by the side of the road. 

The only casualty from the crash was Aemond’s left eye. A piece of metal from the car had come loose during the crash and flung back through the window, creating a scar going from his forehead down to his cheek; robbing him of his vision and permanently causing him pain. 

When you started dating, you made sure to learn his routine and preferences, to make it easier and less unbearable for him when the nerve damage caused intense pain to shoot through his head. 

You still remember. 

He likes the room cool. He always lies on top of the duvet on his back, letting the chill air sooth his aching skin. Unless you’re there. Then he used to lie on his stomach next to you; one armed wrapped around your waist and his head on your chest. You’d thread your fingers through his silky hair with the softest of touches, stroking his head until the pain killers drag him into slumber. 

It had been in one of those moments that he’d first told you he loves you. 

You look over at Aemond as he makes his way towards his guitar, picking it up and experimentally playing a few chords to check the volume. 

Did he manage the pain by himself now? 

Or did he lay his head on Alys’ chest, hugging her? 

Does she run her fingers through his hair? 

Does she let them trace the outlines of the beautiful sharpness of his face? 

Over his cupid's bow, nose bridge, cheekbones?

Does he lay his head on her chest, letting the drum of her heart lull him to sleep? 

Does he allow her to come as close?

You go through the set list, discussing the order of both your older and newer songs. 

Jace, Helaena and Erryk all praise your performance of Dreams, asking you to perform it each night moving forward. 

Helaena, standing next to her brother, leans towards him and mumbles, “Your back-up vocals really make the chorus shine”, while offering him a gentle smile. 

Aemond replies with a hum and moves to stand by one of the microphones with his guitar in hand. His usual stoic yet quietly commanding self returns when he starts to play without any explanation or introduction, fingers plucking the strings with precision. He sings, 

‘She broke down and let me in’ 

During recording, you’d briefly glanced at the words in the recording studio, huffing a laugh at his audacity. They definitely sting more on stage. Your face turns hot and you can’t decipher if it’s from humiliation or anger. Maybe both. 

He really is a dick. 

‘Made me see where I’ve been’

‘Been down one time’

‘Been down two times’ 

‘Never going back again’ 

Any sympathy you’d felt for him; any longing you’d felt for him, vanishes as he sings. Another song about you, this time in the form of the final nail in the coffin that is your marriage. 

And he had the nerve to ask you not to perform Dreams anymore? 

‘You don’t know what it means to win’

‘Come ‘round and see me again’ 

Back at the hotel room, rage makes your entire body feel hot and restless. 

How fucking dare he? 

Never going back again? 

First, he’d sung about how you broke his heart and now, he paints you like you’re the plague; like a sickness to avoid. 

All you want to do is call Alysanne and spew out all the pent up emotions storming inside of you. 

You place your phone on the nightstand and roughly shove the charger inside, fingers tapping furiously to call Alysanne.

She doesn’t answer and you call her again. Still no answer. 

You’re so restless you can’t sit down, irritation making your skin feel hot and hands tingly. 

What if you asked him to not play the song? That’s what he’d asked of you. 

Unable to stay still, you grab your key card and shove your feet into a pair of white hotel slippers, heading down to where you know Aemond’s hotel room is. 

You reach the door and knock on it firmly while your feet shuffle from side to side impatiently. 

You're not sure what you’ll tell him, the rage inside guiding you instead of your senses. 

Aemond opens the door, face unreadable and eyebrows raised in question at your sudden visit. He’s clad in nothing but a pair of green joggers and your gaze briefly flickers down to take in his shirtless stature. 

“Really? Never going back?”, you question and move in closer. The heavy hotel door shut behind you, and suddenly it’s only the two of you, in his room. 

He neither answers nor moves, and you’re standing so close that your clothed chest bumps into his naked one. You crane your neck to look into his eyes. His stern demeanour doesn’t quite reach them, gaze softer than you’d imagined. 

Anger still guides you, and a pathetically spiteful idea prompts you to slowly kneel before him, still standing impossibly close and eyes never straying away from his.

“Not even if I do this?”

Your face is level with his crotch as you look up at him. He’s always loved this sight; you at his mercy. But not now. Now he’s at yours. 

You slowly lean forward and press your lips against the exposed skin of his torso, fleetingly kissing him right by his happy trail, just above the hem of his trousers. 

You’ve missed the soft smoothness of his flesh; a tender veil over the hard muscles hiding underneath. So contradictingly beautiful. 

Aemond stays unmoving, eyes staring at you with a scorching intensity. You know he won’t stop you. If he didn’t want this, he’d have let you know by now. 

So you press another kiss right under his navel, and feel sickly delighted by the barely-there shiver vibrating from him. 

Slowly, and with light kisses to his stomach, you reach for the hem of his joggers, letting your hands softly pull down the fabric and reveal his manhood. He’s already half hard, and you have to bite back a smile. 

Never going back again? Yeah right. 

Your eyes never leave his as your delicate kisses trail downward, towards his cock, yet never making direct contact with it. 

His face still is as impassive as always, but he’s now grown so hard his tip is leaking precum, fuelling your actions. 

You haven’t been this close to him in months and it almost feels intoxicating; his smell encircling you. 

You want to see him lose control; you need to see him lose control. Need to hear him beg for you. 

Plead for you. 

Come for you. 

You squeeze your things together at the thought, arousal making an ache drum between your legs. It’s an addictive thought; imagining him pleading for you. Begging for you. Needing you. 

You want him to want you. 

He still hasn’t moved, or said anything. You take his silence as an invitation to continue. 

Want him to want you. 

Still locking eyes, you slowly graze your lips over his skin until your mouth is by the base of his cock. You know he won’t give you the satisfaction of letting you in on what he’s feeling, but that’s alright. 

You’ll force it out of him. 

Your hand travels up his leg and moves to grip his cock, now so hard it’s aching to be touched. You work in long, firm strokes, just the way he likes. 

The staring contest continues. You know his stoic appearance is meant to frighten you, but you know him too well. You can see the cracks appearing already. 

Eager to push him further, you slowly open your mouth and let your tongue out, gently swiping it over his leaking tip to collect the glistening beads of precum. You feel the proof of his arousal on your tongue, and you see his gaze flicker down to observe it in your mouth as you unhurriedly close your mouth and swallow. 

He stays silent, but you see his jaw twitch. 

He likes it. 

Growing bolder, you move your lips back to the tip of his cock, kissing it in a far too innocent manner before wrapping your lips around him and sucking firmly.

In the briefest of moments, his eyebrows knit together and he closes his eyes.

The satisfaction you feel at his clear arousal goes straight to the thrumming between your legs, and you briefly squeeze your thighs together. You move your mouth lower, placing feather-light kisses down his length before gently swiping your tongue over his balls. 

You can hear the restraint in each laboured breath he huffs through his nose. 

Your soft lips envelop one of his balls, and your hands continue to stroke his length. You know he loves this; loves when you get down on your knees and worship him. 

You let your tongue massage every inch as it rests in your mouth, and when you let out a moan, pure theatrics to make him succumb to you, Aemond’s jaw goes slack and his lips part uncontrollably. 

Just a little further and you’ll break him. 

You’ll win. 

Perhaps the look in your eyes let him in on your scheme. 

Perhaps he’s too close to continue. 

But when he grabs you by the hair and yanks you off of him, it takes you by surprise. 

“About to cum, baby?”, you mockingly ask.  

He clicks his tongue and grabs your forearms to pull you up so you're standing in front of him again. 

Still not saying a word, he tries so hard to appear stoic, but you can see the storm brewing within him. A sudden push to your shoulders causes you to stumble backward and land on Aemond's soft hotel bed. 

“Let’s see how fucking wet you get from sucking off the man you hate”

His voice is both calm and taunting at once. His hands come up to the sides of your leggings, pulling them down with force, taking your underwear with them.

You know you’re wet, but you really don’t want him to know that. 

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

You try to press your legs together, but one of his large hands finds its place on your mound and cups it perfectly as one of his fingers slides down between your folds to meet the silky wetness there. The fact that his hand seems to fit against you perfectly, like two puzzle pieces, amplifies your desire. And rage. 

“Having my balls in your mouth made you that wet, huh? Still so dirty, baby”, he teases, emphasis on the pet name to match your previous mock. 

You let out a yelp as his hand briefly leaves you to land a quick smack on your exposed clit. His cocksure expression flashes by before he grabs your hips again to place you on your stomach, bare ass receiving a smack as well. 

He works quickly, sitting down next to you on the bed and pulling you towards him. He places your middle on his lap, and lets his hand come down to land another smack on your asscheek. 

His hand stays on your soft skin, lingering a bit longer than you’d anticipated, before travelling down between your thighs to meet your neglected centre. 

“You like that too, don’t you?”, he asks as he catches your clit between his fingers and press harshly. 

It stings. 

It feels good. 

You press your lips together to prevent any sounds from escaping, racking your brain for a way to gain back control. 

Aemond’s fingers begin to draw firm circles and your mind starts to feel foggy from want. Without thinking, your hips begin to move in tandem with his fingers. He chuckles. 

“I know you inside out”, he triumphs, but as you move your hips, you can feel how achingly hard he is beneath you. 

You know him too. 

You pull away from his lap, sitting back on your haunches on the bed, and remove your cardigan, then your tank top, and finally your bra. 

You manage to startle Aemond by your sudden move, and you seize your chance at dominance by placing both hands on his shoulders and pushing him down, so he lies on his back on the plush, white sheets of the hotel bed. 

You straddle him, and move one hand down to pull down his sweatpants once again. Revealing his cock, you encircle him softly before placing his length between your folds, dragging your wetness all over him. You bite back a moan as his cock pushes on your clit again and again, hips move back and forward. 

Aemond seems lost for words as well, undoubtedly enjoying you moving against him. 

His seeing eye flickers wildly to take in your naked body, damaged eye not able to keep up with the rapid movements. His cheeks and the tips of his ears are pink. You momentarily feel mesmerised by his beauty. 

The realisation that you’ve missed seeing him like this, missed being with him like this, pierces your heart painfully and your hips still. 

You don’t want to think about the sadness inside. You want to break him. Like he broke you. 

Up until now, it’s been a constant fight for dominance; a never-ending back and forth. But you got him now.

“Beg me to fuck you”, you command, voice slightly out of breath. Aemond’s eyes are fixed on your heaving, naked chest.  

“What?”, he questions, like he doesn’t understand what you’re asking.

“Beg”, you repeat, voice more demanding as your breathing calms, 

“Beg me to fuck you, Aemond”

Though confusion had briefly flashed over his face, it’s now set in fury. 

His eyes narrow.

Without answering you, he places one hand on your shoulder and another on your waist, manhandling your body down on his cock in one swift motion. The sudden intrusion makes you gasp, much to Aemond’s satisfaction. He grins victoriously. 

Fuck, it’s been so long. 

He begins bucking up into you in an instance. The firm hold he has on your body feels bruising, and his fingers dig into your flesh meanly so that you won’t move. 

He angles his hips, and each stroke touches your sweet spot. You bite down on your lip to hinder the moans that are fighting to escape. He’s essentially fucking you on his cock, and it feels so good you can’t think clearly anymore. 

“Come on, I know you can’t keep quiet”

He pushes your body down harder, bucking his hips up faster. You can’t help but move with him, it feels so fucking good. 

You’re still not going to come. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction. He’s gonna come. 

You clench down on his length each time he slides in and you see the tension in his jaw; the vein bulging out at the side of his neck. 

Maybe if you push him just a little bit further? 

“Oh, Aemond”, you moan as you throw your head back, tightening your muscles again, gripping him like a vice. 

He’s always loved getting praised. 

The hand he’d placed on your shoulder moves to your throat, engulfing the entirety of it. His fingers press down on the sides, 

“Shut up” 

His grip tightens. The movement of your hips begin to falter as the restricted blood flow to your head amplifies your pleasure. You bite your lip harder not to moan. 

He knows exactly how to get you. 

He continues to fuck up into your dripping cunt, ignoring your change in pace. Each stroke of his cock within your walls feels like pure ecstasy; like sparks of sheer pleasure shooting through your body. 

His expression is infuriatingly smug and you realise you must look completely blissed out as he uses your body. 

You feel the familiar tightening in your lower stomach, the sign that your peak is approaching rapidly. 

No no no, he can’t win! 

You pull away from the grip he has on you, abruptly getting off him, internally mourning the pleasure you rob yourself of. 

He needs to come. He needs to break first. 

You sit next to where he’s lying on his back, hand moving down so that you can work his length again. 

Aemond catches on to your scheme quickly and uses his strength to push you away, manhandling you so your face’s down in the mattress and ass exposed. 

He pulls on one cheek, admiring your wet and wanting centre. When he shoves back inside with an exaggerated tut, you can’t take it anymore; the pleasure’s just too much.

His touch feels too good, no matter how harsh it is. 

You try to push your face as far as possible into the bed, hoping Aemond can’t hear the moans you can’t contain any longer. 

The loud smacks of his hips against your backside and the lewd, wet sounds coming from your cunt fill the room. 

It’s so aggressively erotic. 

One of his hands finds your clit and as he starts massaging it with vigour, his other hand moves towards your head. 

He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back so you are facing him. The grip hurts; like a thousand little needles assaulting your scalp. 

“You’re gonna come, I know it. Don’t you fucking dare not look me in the eye when you do”

You’re stuck in his painful grip, yet your orgasm’s racing towards you, making you clench down on his length and moan louder and louder, no longer able to hide the effect he has on you. 

The hand in your hair moves down to grab your breast roughly, nipple pinched between his fingers. You find it hard to keep your body up as pleasure makes it feel like you're floating, but Aemond’s arms around you makes it impossible for you to move. His face moves to press against yours; cheek to cheek, 

“When you sing your silly little songs about what a player I am, remember that no one else can make you feel as good as I do”

And you’re gone. The orgasm hits you so hard you almost black out. It makes your entire body jerk uncontrollably, and if Aemond hadn’t been holding you, you’d be on the floor. 

He keeps fucking your through your orgasm, breathing heavily and grunting at the intense way your walls contract around him. 

As the movements of his hips turn sloppy and frantic, you feel his face move to press between your shoulder blades, arms still holding you tightly, like he’s hugging you from behind. 

Or trying to crush you. 

You can’t decide which. 

You stay like that for a few moments. The room is quiet, save for your shared heavy breathing. You’re suddenly aware of the close proximity between the two of you and feel too exposed, regret storming inside you like in icy waves.  

Shit, what have you done?

Aemond loosens his grip around you and lowers you down on the bed much gentler than how he’d touched you before. 

You stay on your stomach, burying your face in the bed as you feel Aemond shuffle behind you, softly tracing a hand down your back before getting up and making his way towards the adjacent bathroom. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Hearing him turn on the faucet, you quickly get up from the bed. 

You have to get out before he comes back. 

You frantically look for your clothes, scattered all over the hotel room floor. Trying to be as quick as you can be feels impossible when your legs still feel far wobbly, and your mind way too fuzzy, to cooperate.  

You hear Aemond turn off the faucet as you pull on your leggings and underwear. You can’t find your bra, and you don’t even bother looking for it before pulling on your tank top and cardigan hurriedly. 

You just need to get away. 

Away from Aemond. 

You step into your slippers and dart out the front door as you hear him emerge from the bathroom. 

Not patient enough to wait for the elevator, you head towards the emergency exit and climb the two stories up to your room. 

As soon as you're inside, you toss the hotel card key on the desk by the window and throw yourself on the bed, body jolting from the force. 

You want to cry. 

You want to scream. 

You want to go to sleep and realise this was all just a fucked up dream. 

You reach for your phone on the nightstand, now fully charged and with a few messages from Alysanne, asking you how you are and if you’d gone to the cafe she’d recommended by Winterfell Central Station. 

You press her name and the small telephone icon, hoping she’ll pick up. 

“Hi honey, you okay?”, she answers, voice evidently concerned from your sudden call. 

You usually stick to texting, or pre-scheduled face-time dates. 

“I fucked up”, you say, barely above a whisper. You hope that she’ll know what happened without you actually having to say the words. You don’t want to speak it into existence. 

“Did you kill him?”, she jokes and you let out a hollow laugh. 

“Worse”, you say, and Alysanne sighs on the other end.

“Was it good?”, she asks after a long pause, making you let out another snort. 

“What do I do now, Aly? I was just going to push him a little and now-”

“That’s your problem. You always want to get a reaction out of him. What happened to just focusing on yourself?”

Her words feel patronising, like you’re being scolded by your parents. Yet you know she is right. You stay silent and mentally search for a reply; any excuse for your behaviour. 

“Yeah”, you sigh in resignation. 

You know you fucked up; that you’ve acted childish and petty. Still, the satisfied afterglow of experiencing the best orgasm you’ve had in months leaves you feeling a bit less anxious. 

Alysanne tries to distract you by asking about Winterfell, the tour, and what you’re planning on wearing for the big show tomorrow. 

It feels good to talk to a friend without holding anything back. Even if you appreciate Helaena’s company immensely, you know she’s being pulled between you and Aemond, and you’d rather not add to her suffering. 

As Aly tells you about the guy she went on a date with last night, your phone buzzes. 

You briefly glance at your screen, ready to swipe the notification away, when you notice it’s an email from your solicitors office. 

You say a quick goodbye to Aly, open the email and quickly scan through the overly formal text. Your eyes flicker over the screen, taking in what’s written. 

…finalised… 

…shared assets… 

There’s a PDF at the bottom of the email. You click on it, seeing the document you’d left for Aemond in your flat over three months ago. The empty space you’d left next to your hurried signature is now filled in, reading; 

Aemond Targaryen. 

A/N: Thank you for reading 🫶 If you wonder about if he signed the papers right after she left his hotel room; it’s a pdf with his signature, I imagine he actually signed it before leaving for the tour and it just reached her solicitors now.

[yandereunsolved]

🐉 ✧ Yandere Aemond Targaryen ✧ 🐉(part 2)

With you, this has been Aemond's only safe place since you were hired when he was but a child, and so were you. He would see you following the other maids and workers around like a lost duckling, constantly tripping over yourself, and failing at the simplest tasks. You grew proficient over time, but that didn't stop the harassment that came from young Aegon and the others. He had to become blinded in one eye to truly see you.

He thought you foolish at first. He pitied your futile attempts to reject Aegon's advances. Your education was nonexistent, and your manners only the minimum. You had not the physical strength of the guard nor the cunning that every power-hungry noble possessed. You did have two things that made you worth his time: your curiosity and comfort.

You didn't gasp in horror after his horrific disfiguration. You didn't scold him for not being wise or mighty enough to win the battle of being ambushed. Chastising him was not within the rights of your station, but many below him still did. Perhaps that is why he was so surprised when you were the only maid who offered to change his bandages and report to the maesters on his healing.

As you got bolder in his care, you dared to lightly caress the scar with the pad of your thumb. He would never admit how embarrassed he felt that you had taken such a liking to him. You seemed so content with the fact that he was now damaged goods. What lady would want a man with such a deformity?

You even gave him a porcelain eye for his socket as a gift. It wasn't the best made, but it was the most you could afford. You spent half of your weekly wages on such a thing. Aemond could feel a fiery sensation rising in his gullet. His fingers caressing the porcelain and meekly thanking you before dismissing you back to your duties.

He never wore the gift, as it wasn't what he had truly hoped for. Even as a sapphire remained in his empty socket, he always kept that glass eye in a wooden box right next to his bedside. He sat up many nights with pathetic droplets of sadness rolling down his pale face while clutching the object. He couldn't be strong all alone, but your token of good faith helped him get through his darkest hours.

That is when his courtship of you truly began. It was subtle. He had grown into a young man, and you had grown to be a fine worker within the walls of the Red Keep. Many would be suspicious if he always asked for you to care for him and do your duties near his room instead of having to traverse all throughout the castle.

He would leave you small gifts, like how a dragon will offer dead beasts to its rider as a sign of affection. They would be flowers from the gardens, trinkets, and silk cloths. Small notes of words that are translated into High Valyrian. "'Avy Jorrāelan', it means I love you in High Valyrian. I am sure your lips are sweeter than any pastry the finest chefs could bake." The short notes became increasingly violent and lewd over time. "One day, I will kill every man who has touched you who is not me. I will ravage you atop their dead corpses, and you will see their blood mixing in with my spilled seed." You stopped reading them. So he switched to another tactic. 

He had you carry his gear when he went to ride Vhagar. He introduced you to her, and she loved you just as he did. He could see it in her eyes. He's never seen the savage beast look so at peace. Vhagar went as far as to gently grab ahold of your clothing and tear at it. It caused you to become fearful and hide behind Aemond, but there was a certain mischief behind his dragon's actions.

"My prince, I fear your dragon dislikes me." You mutter so softly that his ears are barely able to pick the words up.

"I think she is very fond of you. If she hated you, then she would have eaten you already." There was an air of amusement present in his voice that you haven't ever heard before.

"Should I take comfort in that?" You inquired while a bit confused about this peculiar situation.

"You should."

"I shall, then. She is your dragon, and you know her best. You always end up being right about these things—I mean you are extremely intelligent. You are just always able to figure these things out. Your good looks and charm help to. I—" You felt you said too much and shut your mouth.

Aemond learned to tease you in such a way that would get you to spill these thoughts of yours. He did it so shamelessly. He made sure those bastards knew you were taken through his method. He almost kissed you just to prove that neither Jacaerys nor Lucerys would ever be able to lay a hand on you. He didn't have to worry about Aegon anymore. His drunk of a brother learned well not to trifle with you after he gave him a broken nose and a bloodied lip. If anyone dared upset you, especially those not his kin, well, they have particularly gruesome deaths.

All of this and you thought him mostly indifferent to you. None of the most twisted emotions ever rose to the surface when he was around you. He always waited until in private. He knew he had to keep you in his clutches. He couldn't scare you away quite yet. 

"Dear?"

"Me?" You squeak in surprise.

Aemond tucks a dragon's breath flower behind your ear as you turn to face him. No words escape him. Only a contented smirk appears. Before you have an opportunity to question him, he walks off. How strange. You gently adjust the flower in your hair. It makes you oddly giddy. 

"How cute." You murmur.

Aemond heard your words. He couldn't wait for the morrow. He will take you back to Vhagar and confess his love. He will offer you to become his spouse. His mother surely wouldn't be happy, but he would. And if the worst comes, he will burn down all of Westeros just to be with you.

[heartfullofleeches]

In wolf's clothing

Yan Hybrids (Rabbit, NB. Mouse, Fem. Swan, Male) + Gender Neutral Sheep (?) Hybrid Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Mentions of Murder

-

Four animals are brought into questioning following the gruesome murder and dismemberment of their neighbor- A rabbit, a mouse, a swan - and a sheep. A sin of this caliber has not been committed since the founding decades of their shared home. The culprit responsible for the heinous act is to be brought to justice through execution by hanging in front of the town as a cautionary example to any who desire the same level of senseless bloodshed. 

Shall we begin?- 

The rabbit was an upstanding figure in the community. An outsider who quickly made a place for themselves amongst their peers, garnering love and tolerance by means of pleasant conversation and baked treats. Once the rabbit was present, sadness and grief were a thing of the past for most to whom they were acquainted. Honest and true, the rabbit has never told a lie nor done anything to jeopardize their new cozy life. 

“It's such a shame what happened to Mr. Possum.” Said the rabbit. “We had plans for brunch on the day he vanished. I even whipped up a batch of the scones he loved so much.” 

“Did you kill Mr. Possum?” 

The rabbit doesn't bat an eye as they reply. “No, I did not.”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

“I was making tarts for another one of our friends. I think you may know. Sheep may not be the most talkative, but they enjoy my baking as much as any other. Where is Sheep? Are they alright? All this fuss surely must be getting to them by now…I hope they enjoyed the tarts….” 

The rabbit is released from custody. 

The mouse was a timid creature. On the rare occasion she wasn't holed up in the confines of her burrow, a common place to find the mouse was wandering along the borders of town where roads ended and the treelining began. Day in and day out, the little mouse would scrounge for fallen branches. The mouse found purpose for herself weaving baskets and other trinkets for herself and the neighbors who treated her in kind. 

“Oh…This won't take long, will it? I'd rather not be out past nightfall…” 

*Did you kill Mr. Possum?” 

Pain grips the tiny mouse’s voice as she squeaks. “I could never hurt a fly! Mr. Possum was such a gentle soul too… If not a tad misguided…”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

The mouse dries her tears as swiftly as they fall. “Taking a nap after being up all evening making a necklace for… Oh, stars- Sheep, they're here aren't they? Could you let them know I'll be waiting for them outside? My poor, sweet Sheep…”

The mouse is released from custody. 

The swan was nothing if not a beautiful face. Tending to the upkeep of his image, the swan had no care for the outside world nor the people who dwelled within it. A shut in, abiding his precious time in the sanctity of his study. A man of few words; letters were the only feasible way of communicating with the bird, less the matter was of utmost importance and worthy of his time. 

“This is pointless.”

“Did you kill Mr. Possum?”

The swan scoffs - pinching the wall of his cheek with his teeth to avoid expression. “What good would killing that old bastard do me? Now look what you've done? If I develop wrinkles from frowning there will be hell to pay, Mayor.”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

The swan brushes dirt off his fine coat. “In my study as always. That morning I was preoccupied writing notes in one of my books I intended to let that sheep borrow for a time….They are in this building, are they not? I'm sure they've asked for me by now.”

The swan is released from custody.

The sheep is a shadow upon the community. Lurking just out of sight, the sheep did everything in their power to remain unseen amongst their fellow townspeople. Their aloof nature when approach proved their odd behavior was not out of malice, but few still had their suspensions. The sheep was a sweet and gentle soul nonetheless. If only they took more care of their fur…

“Do I really have to be here? I didn't know him very well to begin with.”

“Yes… I'm afraid. Did you kill Mr. Possum?”

The sheep licks at the corner of their mouth, tongue collecting every crumb of pastry glued to their fur. How they wished they could have had just one more bite before coming. They blink, beady eyes glossing over with tears. 

“Did you…kill Mr. Possum?”

The sheep fiddles with the string of their new necklace tucked beneath their shirt as the mayor presses further- fighting every urge to gnaw at the bones dangling over their chest. “I… I didn't.”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

The sheep recalls a distant memory- Lines written in a book they'd read not long ago. “I…was at home. I'm sure Rabbit, Mouse, and Swan can vouch for me….”

A hand squeezes the sheep’s shoulder. The mayor, a noble and charitable elk, nods in understanding at the smaller animal. He eyes the rings of red lacing their neck as they nervously pick at the skin. 

“Understood. Make sure you stick to this story if anyone else questions you. Hurry on home, young one, and be quick.”

The elk leans in closer- Whispering, though the walls of his office are as thick as the saliva the sheep swallows as he utters those dreaded words. 

 “It's about time for you to trim your claws again.”

The sheep is free from custody. 

Scurrying on home with their tail still tucked between their legs, the sheep finds three familiar faces waiting for them there.

“Sheep!” Warmth bathes the terrified animal as they're swept into the caring arms of their long-eared companion. The rabbit dabs their wet cheeks with their apron. “Are you alright, hunny-bunny? Tell us everything that happened.”

Through teary eyes, the sheep details every portion of their integration. “I think the mayor knows I didn't do it…. I hope the same goes for you guys…” 

A collective wave of relief falls over the group.

“That's good news.” Mouse adds. “If anyone is incapable of hurting someone it's Sheep… Poor Mr. Possum….I feel terrible for what happened to him.”

Swan rolls his eyes. “I’d say his demise is poetic justice for accusing Sheep of being a… well you know what.”

Rabbit shoves Sheep's head into their chest. “We all agreed not to talk about that anymore! Especially if Sheep is present! We've all had a long day… Why don't we head inside and relax after all that kerfuffle with a nice, rejuvenating cup of tea? Sheep, could you be a dear and grab that kettle I bought for you?” 

“O..oh… Um…Alright.”

The sheep squeezes past Swan and Mouse as they step inside their home. The remainder of the group wait for the telltale sound of them scrounging around in their room for the present before any of them speaks. 

Rabbit sighs. “Okay. I know they're horrible with keeping track of everything we give them so we have a few minutes to chat about this. Mouse, did you return the ax?”

Mouse points in the general direction of another house off somewhere in the distance. “I put it back in Squrriel’s shed where I found it last night.”

“Swan, did you check every one of those cameras you have to see if anyone saw us?”

Swan rolls his eyes. “Like anything that interesting happens in this town after nightfall. We're in the clear. We’d best head instead to help them. Plus, I need to get my time with them since you'll already taken front and center with everything else.” 

The death of Mr. Possum was later ruled as a robbery gone wrong committed by traveling crooks. It took many moons, but eventually peace fell upon the cozy little town and its tight knit community once more. Sheep, unable to sleep after the tragedy, sought refuge in the homes of those there for them in their time of need. 

Their doors were always open for their kind, gentle sheep. 

[envy-of-the-apple]

Hihihihi!! Happy Belated Bday!!!! I hope you had a good day 💗

Just wanna say again I love ya writing 🤍 Question for the Naha AU, Would the Naga hatchlings be able to speak English since they grew up around reader? And do you think Satoru and Suguru would develop more speech the longer they’re around reader?

Could y’all maybe stop giving me ideas for the naga au??? This isn't very nice

Top of the Food Chain pt 3

Part One Part two

(Dark!naga!Satosugu x reader)

(Warnings: implied forced relationship, yandere, dark content etc etc)

"I saw a shark today."

That certainly caught your attention.

"I'm sorry, you what?"

"Triangle fins, sharp teeth," Nobara casually continues, "a shark."

You move, more worried than upset. "Did it attack you? Are you okay?"

You glance down at her body. In just a few years, she'd grown to be slightly smaller than you. In terms of looks, she's resembles a human pre-teen. Compared to her brothers, she looks more human too. Her hair can hide the fins that protrude where her ears should be. Her eyes are more human, rounder. If it weren't for her tail, swishing in the water behind her, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

"We did fight." Nobara grins. Sharp teeth, just like her fathers'.

"Not funny," you reply.

"We did! Can you guess who won? I'll give you a hint: she's right in front of you."

She manages to pull a laugh out of you. You shake your head at her, more exasperated than anything else.

"No more fighting any more sharks," you tell her, but when she grins wider, you know she won't listen.

In human years, she's barely an infant. In Naga years, she's barely a teenager. Yet, she's so independent. Nobara started hunting for herself as soon as she started staying in the water around the clock. Not even Yuji and Megumi became this hands-off, despite both being larger than her.

It's probably why you had a soft spot for her. You'd never admit this to the other two hatchlings, but Nobara was your favorite (and you had a feeling she knew it, too). She resembles you in a way. Different, from the rest of the group. A bit isolated. It doesn't help that neither of her fathers seemed to be interested in her as soon as she started venturing into the water. You can count the number of times they've visited her on your hand. And you were pretty sure it had more to do with the fact you were with her, rather than Nobara herself.

She was alone. Much like you are.

The siren hums, giving you a small 'aye captain', which causes you to laugh again. Despite how uncaring she appeared, you were certain Nobara liked it when you worried for her. Cared about her. You just wished she wouldn't go to extremes just to get your attention.

Her expression brightens just then. Her tail swishes, creating small waves as she rises up. You were a few feet away, right at the bank, looking down at her as she wiggled.

"Oh! I found more human things!" She excitedly told you.

"Did you?" you ask, tilting your head, smiling.

There's a nod, before she's diving down, disappearing into the depths. She comes back up to the surface a few minutes later, depositing a few trinkets onto the bank.

It's your fault for instilling such a curiosity for humans. She was the first to pick up your tongue, practically a native speaker by the time she started to swim. Because of her ability to venture into the ocean, she started picking up strange objects, returning back to you. You and her would sit for hours, sifting through the stuff she brought. Her fascination with humankind thrilled you. You were always more than willing to share your knowledge with Nobara.

"What are they?" she asks in pure fascination.

"Hm, let's see," you reply, looking through the stuff.

It was a rather small haul. You didn't mind. She's found a couple of interesting things today.

"Oh, a claw clip," you note, picking the plastic contraption with both hands, "you use this to hold your hair, to get it out of your face."

It's pretty. Cheap looking, but ultimately pretty. You like the designs. It's a pretty color too. Periwinkle.

Nobara looks at the hair ornament with wonder.

"A claw clip." She tries.

"Here, I'll show you. Turn around." You tell her.

She does as she's told, swishing in the water. You lean over the bank, grabbing her beautiful hair. You needed to be careful. Nagafolk have more sensitive hair than yours but she doesn't seem to mind your fumbling. When you're finished adjusting the clip, you ask her to look at her reflection in the water.

"Well?" you ask.

"Wow," she gushes, "I look so cute!"

You laugh, light and airy. She beams at you, and for a moment, she looks like a kid, with no sharp teeth, no desire to go shark hunting.

"What else?" she asks, moving back to the bank.

You hum, picking up the book next. It was soggy from all the time it had spent in the water. You could somewhat make out what was on the title. But the ink on the inside was completely ruined.

"Books don't do well in water," you tell her with a pitied smile, "sorry."

She frowns but urges you to explain the last object. You'd been purposefully saving it for last. In a strange way, it was sentimental to you.

"A camera," you explain, "you can use it to take pictures."

"Pictures?" Nobara echoes.

"Remember those photographs you found last week? Pictures and photographs are the same thing." Nobara nods at your explanation.

She takes the camera from your fingers, examining it.

"We can get pictures from this?" She asks, and you can't help but note the excitement in her tone.

"Not from this camera no," you tell her, "Human technology and water don't mix."

She huffs. Her expression oddly reminds you of Suguru's whenever Satoru did something disappointing. She truly was her father's daughter.

"That's stupid," she finally tells you and you have to throw your head up and laugh. Your shoulders shake. You can catch a hint of a smile from her before she goes back to examining the camera.

It's cheap, one of those disposable ones you'd find at the check-out aisle at a grocery store. It was a hassle to take care of, working with the film, taking it to someone who could turn it into something visual. You knew that because-

"-We took a camera just like this for our trip," you start, "We were supposed to take pictures of every island that we visited. Something we could have taken home with us."

The cruise. The explosion. You washing up on this hellhole of an island. It felt like years ago, but how long ago was it? You'd already lost your sense of time.

"Mom?"

You glance up. Her eyes are thoughtful, staring you down. Too wide, you can't help but think. Her eyes are too wide to be human. Because she isn't human. She wasn't one of you.

"If you could, would you leave?"

It takes you a moment to process her words. You can't formulate a response, not quickly enough. This should be the time when you become the adult she's looking for. When you coddle her and assure her that you will never leave her.

When you open your mouth, nothing comes out.

The reason why Nobara was your favorite, was because she was a lot more smarter than you.

Her eyes flick down. Her hands, still holding the camera, grip tighter threatening to break-

Then, she straightens herself. Posture righted, angled, taut. Her fins flare out before flattening. She could smell them coming.

You, on the other hand, heard them before you saw them.

A breaking of twigs, a silent hiss. You expect it, yet you still flinch when a clawed hand rests on your shoulder.

You can feel yourself deflate. Times up.

In front of you, Nobara frowns, unimpressed. You can feel Satoru nuzzle his face into your neck. Suguru is clicking something to the hatchling. In turn, her face curls into a sneer. She hisses something back.

You hate it when they do this, ignore you in favor of speaking a language you'd never understand. Satoru and Suguru would always gleefully leave you out. Nobara, however, was far more accommodating.

"What's he saying?" You ask her.

She huffs, crossing her arms and looking away.

"He asked if I took you out to the open ocean."

You glance at Suguru, hoping your face is as disapproving as you feel. Suguru meets your gaze, a silent challenge.

"Did you?" A new voice comes.

Yuji appears first out of the foliage with a bright smile and wide eyes. He's followed by his second oldest sibling. Megumi gives a slight warning hiss when his youngest sibling almost barrels him over.

"I didn't!" Nobara insists, glaring at Yuji. He only grins back, glinting his sharp fangs. Smile of a predator, you think to yourself.

"Nothing like that happened." You turned to Suguru, "We just stayed here. I never left."

It was a promise to both of them, one you hope none of the hatchlings heard. Or at least, paused enough to decipher.

Yuji and Megumi slither up to greet you despite you still being trapped in Satoru's hold. The larger naga huffs, not happy with the sudden attention you're receiving. You ignore Satoru, smiling when Megumi briefly touches your arm in affection. Yuji gently leans down to bump foreheads.

"I don't get why you two had to come along," Satoru says, his tone light, but you can still sense the annoyance. His hold over you becomes ever so slightly constricting. Even all these years, and he's still terrified of you being taken away.

They both are, even when Suguru tries to deny his paranoia.

Yuji pouts at his father's words. He turns to you.

"You were gone forever." He whines. "We got worried."

When Megumi glances away, you know he shares the sentiment. It's nice to know that despite their reptilian features, you could still instill a semblance of humanity within these three.

"I didn't mean to scare you," You say, not just talking to the hatchlings, "I wanted to spend time with Nobara for a bit. Look at the things she brought!"

You mention to the human artifacts. In response, Suguru picks up the camera with sharp claws. Neither Suguru nor Satoru had ever been interested in the things humanity tossed on their shores.

The boys follow in their father's footsteps. Yuji only nods, Megumi doesn't even bother giving a response. No matter how hard you tried, only Nobara was truly interested in human culture.

To prove your point, she hisses, her fins flattening to the sides when Suguru handles the camera too roughly for her taste.

"Careful!" She warns. "Don't break it."

An amused smile before Suguru tosses the camera in her direction. She catches it just before it hits the water, still scowling. He doesn't react to your look of disapproval. Satoru laughs, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

Suguru titters something in her direction. Nobara hisses. Yuji and Megumi also stiffen. You fight the urge to sigh. You don't need a translator to know what he's saying.

"Megumi, Yuji," you call, "stay with your sister for a bit, please? Your fathers and I need to talk for a bit."

Yuji's more than happy to dive into the water with his sister. She squabbles with him, dunking his head under the water in an attempt of casual drowning. Megumi's the one who hesitates. You've always thought he knew more than he let on.

You give him an encouraging smile.

"Go on."

You wait until their heads dip underwater. Then, you wait a few moments more, prolonging the inevitable.

"You shouldn't scare them like that." You finally say, not looking at either of them. "They're just kids."

"She's old enough to understand the dangers of you being in the water," Suguru responds.

"Of course she is, but she doesn't need constant reminders." You're not arguing. You're not arguing. "They—the hatchlings—don't need to see me as weak."

"But you are." Satoru playfully says. As if to prove it, he curls his hands around your hips and waist, easily hoisting you into his arms. You knew better than to struggle, reluctantly putting your arms around his neck.

"I know my own weaknesses. They don't need to coddle me. I get that enough from you two."

Satoru shrugs, burying his head back into your neck, soaking in your warmth.

"In any case," Suguru continues his earlier conversation. You watch as he glides over, a clawed arm caressing your shoulder, "you shouldn't be out with her for so long. The boys will start to notice your favoritism sooner or later."

You frown at his words. "I'm not playing favorites. At least Megumi and Yuji have each other. Nobara's out here all alone."

Nobara had fully developed her gills when she was just a year old. The more she spent her time out in the ocean, the more worried you got for her loneliness.

Suguru hums at your words, tracing your legs.

"She won't be lonely for long. Aren't the females migrating this season, Satoru?"

The other naga nods. "Yeah, this new moon. She'll make plenty of friends in the open ocean."

You blink at Satoru's words, trying to sit up from his embrace. He just huffs in annoyance, gripping you tighter.

"She—Nobara's leaving?" You ask.

Suguru smiles, enjoying your naivety.

"Of course, my love. All hatchlings do. Soon enough, Megumi and Yuji will go out and scout their own territories. Don't human young leave their parents once they're old enough?"

They do. You have. But in human years, Nobara, Megumi, and Yuji are still toddlers. In naga years, they're barely teenagers. To you, they're still babies. They're so young. Would they be able to fend for themselves out there?

Nobara asked if you could leave, would you. Maybe she wasn't just asking for your sake.

"If anything, that's good for us!" Satoru exclaims. "The caves' getting too crowded. It'd be nice to finally get to stretch out again."

Suguru nods in agreement. When you don't share their joy, he leans down to your eye level.

"You'll miss them, hm?" He asks.

You nod. There's no need to lie. He laughs at your honesty, kissing your cheek.

"I'm sure they'll visit from time to time," he assures, "hatchlings don't typically have any sentiment for their parents, but I'm sure the three will make an exception for you."

"Besides," Satoru pipes in. "The nest won't be empty for too long."

You look up at him in mild alarm.

"What do you mean by that?"

Suguru gives his mate a soft smile.

"This was our first mating season," he explains, "a success, I'd like to call it. We'll have many more sets of hatchlings in the future."

They both peer down at you. Eyes turn to slits. Purple and blue.

"And you'll be a wonderful parent to all of them. Just like you were to our first three."