#to make matters worse they're baby pictures

[charlie-rainary]

Ajax: ooh, fun idea

Ajax: what’s in Weems’ room

Weems: why is this relevant

Bianca: it isn’t

Bianca: that’s why it’s so fun

Yoko: since you started it, you can begin Ajax

Ajax: $15 says that she has pictures of at least one of us

Wednesday: I don’t doubt that, add $25 and $30 says that she has a picture of my mother

Bianca: not gonna lie, that’s lowkey kinda creepy

Weems: I swear it’s not

Weems: we were roommates

Yoko: and they were roommates

Divina: oh my god they were roommates

Yoko: you know what, $10 says that she has some of Mrs Addams’ clothes 

Weems: I feel attacked

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[darlingofvalyria]

❝I am not a Valyrian Sex God.❞

part 03 | pucker up, buttercup

chapter summary:

[ The line of friendship dances in uncertain waters when you and Aemond play the fake dating game a little too well. Helaena reveals much more than meets the eye to Aegon, and vice versa. Oh, and Alys. Hi Alys! ]

[ 5,399 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— mostly fluff, a wee bit angsty, a little smutty - profanity, i swear a lot sorry too shhshs - no use of y/n - no gods, no kings, no betas.

a/n— thank you so much for the love this little fic is getting so far!! it truly warms my heart that you people enjoy my twisty, crackpot humour and my version of a modern au for these characters!! as much as i am grateful for george for making these characters and these stories, i have to say what propelled me to write is the beautiful community i found. truly, from the bottom of my heart. ❥ fandom is built on community. i would not have had the courage to start writing fanfiction again if not for ya'll. so thank you so much. for the consumers and the creators. you, us, are the beating heart of fandom. please take care of each other. + comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

"Please tell me I haven't inhaled so much drugs in my system that I am hallucinating our— and I say this with a lot love, okay you know what? No. Our Nasty Little Bitch of A Grudge Holder we call, lovingly, a brother, is not dating the hottest friend you have? Hel? The hottest friend you told me if I ever came anywhere near, you'd rip me a new asshole? How is Aemond's asshole still intact?? Or does our brother just have a gaping fun-house slide down there? Hello? Hellooo, pay attention to meee. This is so rude, why didn't I call Daeron?"

"Because Daeron knows nothing and I know everything?" Hel snorts, finishing up re-naming Aemond's contact from CURRENT DUMB BRO to NASTY LITTLE BITCH OF A GRUDGE HOLDER, before turning to Aegon on her laptop.

Like she predicted, Aegon is already pouting, leaning back on what Helaena remembers is their grandfather's rum-coloured leather office chair. In his office. In Oldtown.

After a quick stint in Ibiza, it seems Helaena's brother had found himself back in the country, and worse— back in their grandfather's office. Without him in it.

"Grandpa's going to kill you." Helaena snorts. "How'd you even get inside his house?"

"This is not the first time I have been faced with a locked door, baby sister."

"You broke a window didn't you?"

"I really, really had to piss."

She rolls her eyes. Hard. "You are a boy. You can literally just pee anywhere."

Aegon flutters a gasp and a hand over his chest. "Excuse me? I may have a penis, but that does not mean I have to be uncouth. For shame, Helaena. Also disgusting. But that's not why I called." He steeples his fingers as he leans forward, pressing his elbows against the nice mahogany desk. "What the fuck is happening over there? I'll be there by tomorrow and I'd like to know what the fuck is happening before I start—" he wiggles his eyebrows salaciously, " — shaking things up."

A dark look crosses Helaena's usually amiable pretty face that has Aegon leaning back. "If you do anything— and I mean anything — to ruin what I have going on, Mother may help you for I certainly won't. The Stranger will look like an old friend, Egg, don't you fucking dare."

"What the fuck," Aegon exhales, wide-eyed and horrified. "Have you been watching M. Night Shyamalan movies again?"

"No," she lies. "I'm doing this for my OTP."

 "Oh my god, you're the one who roped them together?" Aegon strangles a sigh. "Lae-lae, we've talked about this. No matter how much you think they're cute, Aemond—"

"— Aemond and Alys broke up."

"Then they'll be together again before the weekend's out." Aegon rolls his eyes. "It's Aemond."

"Not like this." Hel shakes her head. "I got her to agree, Egg. And they're like... Gods, the pictures don't do them justice. They're magnetic. They make plans at the apartment, Aemond is there all the time— my OTP is happening."

"You are playing god between two people you care about."

"What else am I supposed to do?! They're obviously so hot for each other, and now that Alys is out of the picture, and she's there, right in front of him, Egg, you should see how it is between them. The energy. It's crackling. They have inside jokes, they're so comfortable with each other, and I will have the most beautiful nephew and niece—"

"—Helaena Targaryen," Aegon admonishes with finality. Hel quiets. Often times, the siblings forget Aegon is quintessentially the oldest sibling. They had never been close to their father's actual firstborn— the age gap is wide and there's just... too much complicated family fissures in between that it feels awkward, even when they're relationship is okay, to interact or consider Rhaenyra anything past a cousin you see every other holiday because you have to, much less now that their father's dead — so Aegon is their big brother.

And though they see it in bits, in flung comet pieces that you see preciously once every few hundred years— the vibe of big brother grasps the edges and reminds the younger siblings.

Sure, he's a dick. Sure, he's a whore. Sure, he's their mother's least and most favourite headache— but Aegon is their big brother.

"You cannot play puppeteer like this. This can blow up in their faces. And they care for each other. Their friends. If this blows up in their faces, it is going to hurt."

"I know that," Helaena says quietly, pout pinched but face mostly cleared. "You don't think I don't know?"

"I think you've already outweighed your chances and your choosing a possibility."

Helaena looks truly scolded at that point, and it juts a guilt down Aegon's stomach. But Aegon likes you. Maybe not like in the way that his brother likes you— in that intense, possessive way he gets with people and things he care about because there are so few of them — but he likes you. And he loves Aemond on a bad day, and likes him on a good one.

And Aegon knows, as a superior power about crashing and burning, that this is going to hurt both of you in ways that he truly doesn't think Helaena understands.

Because he isn't blind (as his brother) (bad joke?) (probably) to what he sees in Aemond's gaze when it looks at you. Sure it's possessive, sure it's the same way he looks at most people he keeps close to his heart.

But he was the one who saw how Aemond looked at you before Alys came into the picture. Before it morphed into nothing but platonic; morphed close to how he looks at Helaena. In that soft, I'm So Glad This Person Exists I Would Kill Literally Everyone For Them.

Aegon always thought he looked at you like he wanted to devour you. Etch you into his skin until your shape is in red marks across white plane. He looked at you like I Would Kill Myself If You Asked.

It was the possibility of devotion dipped in insanity. Aemond had so few things, much less people, who so vocally, physically, and emotionally cared for him without addendums.

The only real reason he never did anything before was because you were Helaena's best friend. Helaena loved you. And he couldn't destroy that alongside the fact that you might leave his side.

And then Alys happened and that focal point moved.

Aegon knew his brother. Not as intensely, and maybe that's the reason he could see it. To see clearly past the intensity and recognise its edges. Aegon knew his brother in his marrow.

"When this crashes and burns—"

"If!" Helaena quips stubbornly. "If it crashes and burns. Come home. You'll see, Egg. Aemond just needs to see."

"And what if she doesn't reciprocate, Lae-lae? She's not hard to love, and this is Aemond." Even Helaena knows his feelings, once taken root in whatever form, can blossom.

Helaena smiles softly. "Come home. You'll see. I can see it. I've seen it. The possibility of them, and it's so pretty, Egg."

It's really not all that pretty, fake dating.

Maybe it could be, but Aemond Targaryen is such an ass.

"This is not like The Devil Wears Prada fashion montage," you grumble, pinching off the big, 60s, yellow sunglasses off your nose to glare pointedly at the man sat on lounge chair. "All the zippers and tugging— this is not as pretty! And I look ridiculous! I don't wear dresses like these, Aemy!"

"You don't look ridiculous, you look like my girlfriend." He makes his emphasis with an inch raised eyebrow and pouty lips twitching not to laugh. "That's the point, is it not?"

You make a drawl huff. It's not just that his words were right— that's what the past hour has been, roaming around all these big named fashion brands where the staff just knows Aemond Targaryen, if not just by him sauntering in with all the swagger of an asshole you'd walk the other side of the street to ignore, then by the flash of his black card (or three, 'cause what the fuck is money to Targaryens holy shit) — but the way he's sitting as he appraises every look he's chosen for you.

He's lax, as could be in his usually perfect posture, with his hips in the middle, and one leg braced down whilst the other is raised to his other thigh. A confident man's sitting position, with an arm over the length of the sofa, balancing a champagne a trying-to-suppress-her-giddiness staff gave him.

At your disapproved glare— down on your nose at him because you're standing over him, lording over him, as he's sitting down — and he's smirking up at you. As if the power dynamics don't shift by whoever is looming over the other.

Aemond doesn't need to stand to make you feel all fluttery with a smirk and a strong gaze against your body. His eyes gaze from the bottom of your heeled toes, slow, slow, slow, until it reached the top of your head.

Surely you've only imagined his gaze lingering on certain parts of you that now felt hot and tingly.

Surely.

"Plus," he continues with a hum. A sip of champagne. "Isn't this your idea?"

"Yes, but—"

"Didn't you tell me that I should prepare the kind of outfits that Aemond Targaryen's girlfriend would wear—"

 "Yes, but I—"

He leans forward, taking pleasure in arguing with you, as he settles his elbows on his knees, pressing both of his feet flat on the tile. He's looking up, still, but his eyes are intense and the corner of his mouth is twitching from a grin he's trying to fight.

"And even when I told you that didn't matter, that whatever you wore would be fine, you insisted?"

"Because I thought it'd be fun!" you growl and he falls in faint, amused laughter. His eye is sparkling and there's a joy to him that makes you giddy. You truly have missed Aemond as you know him. "Because I wanted a fun dress-up montage, but nothing about this is fun! Why are you choosing so many goddamned zippers, and they're all so fucking tight?"

You plop beside him, stealing his champagne. Staff look away, trying not to ogle too much between you two. As you take sips of his drink, his hand, still over the sofa's arm, begin drawing idle circles on your exposed shoulders. It warms you and calms you down, melting further in the seat beside him.

"I liked the dresses," he finally murmurs. "The ones before this. The flowy fabric ones."

"Those are summer dresses," you say though don't know why.

"Hm," he hums. "You look pretty in them."

You look up at him and he's looking at you, a small smile on his face. The proximity is too near to be proper but not near enough if you're fake dating. You study his silver lashes and the scarred flesh.

"Thanks."

"We'll get them. Is that alright with you?"

You snort softly. "You're paying, Aemy. You can do whatever you want. Can't believe this is how your dates with Alys usually went."

Hatching plans meant unloading information about his former relationship with her. Going through their relationship so you could understand it better, better proportioned the good and the bad, and secretly, make him see the red flags that should jump out in clear, plastic red.

"Not at first." He's looking away now, but his finger is still drawing circles. There's a wistful tone to his voice, like seeing through a dream and a memory. "But when it got... bad, it seemed like the only time we weren't fighting was when we were in public. Almost subconsciously, whenever things got tensed, I'd offer to take us out. Do anything outside of our bubble. Money isn't an issue, and before Alys said she felt like a... cheap whore than a girlfriend, buying things for her, spending time looking through things to wear, to match almost, was safe."

"Gift Giving," you mutter with a nod. He turns.

"What was that?"

"A love language." He cocks his head. You sigh. "I mean it's stupid and not really theoretically accurate, but for fun, there's five types of love languages. People do this test thing and sort of box up the kind of love language you want to receive and what you give— but truly, in my opinion, a true kind of love demands all five for it to work."

He hums, intrigued. "And what are the five?"

"Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Physical Touch, Acts of Service, Gift Giving. But, you know, all of those should be given by a partner, in increments they can do for you. There shouldn't be a boxed fixture of what your relationship could be."

You shrug, standing up and stretching. You don't see him looking at you in the way that he has been for the past few days, and he doesn't know the tingles and feelings you keep between a smile and a sigh.

"Love looks different for everyone but it should have the same concept."

"And what concept is that?"

You turn to him, smiling. "That if you truly love someone, you can try anything. Love doesn't demand things that you do for the simple reason that you love the person enough."

"Love can be complicated," he says, and he's not arguing, not really. He isn't begging for you to understand. He is simply saying.

"Love can," you agree. "As most things are complicated. But it doesn't have to hurt."

It's a boundary line, the way he blinks, remembering why you're here together, why he gets to touch you in intimate ways, why he gets to pay for clothes, why you spend this time with him. A jolt. A shock.

You don't press and he doesn't retreat. The line exists not just to remind, but to stabilise any projections. Any dangerous tones.

You simply smile, nodding at the time. "Dinner date, babycakes. We can't be late for reservations."

"We can be late for a few minutes," he says, remembering echoes of how Alys sometimes got late. It isn't really her fault; there are days when she's too busy at the law firm, too busy with a meeting or two, or still finishing up her makeup because she doesn't like going to dinner in her work clothes.

"Sure, but we're here together and I know how much you hate being late." You snort.

"I don't hate it."

"Sure, but you got that eye twitch you do when you're annoyed," you tease, tapping your own eye before you wink at him and skip away.

For the past few days since the bar incident, by your suggestion, you and Aemond had pour out the intricacies of how Aemond and Alys' relationship worked whilst hiding your true intention of making him see its faults and corners, and at the same time, continue on with the charade of dating him.

It's been a packed week or so, going to your shifts at the bar, meeting with Cregan once and a while (boy had been busy, and he found the entire thing with Aemond incredibly hilarious).

You answered no question mark in regards on who the hand was, only sent a winky face or a kiss blowing emoji. You continue to post minute representations of your no-longer-single status in brief intervals, making sure that you never name him. You never publicly give him a recognisable body.

But for those that knew, knew.

It really wasn't that hard. There were only so much pale, toned hands, so much body builds you can hide with your hand covering his general face that you can hide without people making smart guesses. There wasn't a lot of pale, toned people around you after all.

But in your refusal to name him, the question continues, and so does Alys silent observation of every post. The only story she had liked had been the very first one.

You often wonder what she thinks, before your mind is devoured once again with everything else.

To be fair, as often as you had both been seeing each other lately— and it has been the most often you have been seeing of him — there were still things outside of Aemond and Helaena plans. And Aemond still had UNI to focus on.

"You know, I often forget you're still in university," you say now, comfortably warm in Aemond's car. All fresh leather seat and crisp new car smell despite knowing that Aemond's had this unit now for at least a year. He maybe rich, but he knew what he liked and took care of them.

He shoots you a quizzical look before looking back at the road. The city is bathed in a gorgeous stream of oranges and pinks, tie-dying glass buildings and bustle of city roads. When you look at him, you smile softly at how pretty the light hits him.

"Why is that? Do I look that young?"

"Your vibe is so old man on a nine to three, cigar breaks by four, and whiskey sours by seven pm."

He makes a disgruntled sound at the back of his throat. You laugh. "I would like to think it's my altruistic classicism. A timeless endeavour."

"Sure, old man," you tease then sigh. "Reality is, I'm so much older than you. I'm hanging out with a child. On my free day. Is this what it means to reach low status?"

"I am not a child." His reply is sharp, cutting, almost offended.

"You're in college."

"And of legal age? You're only four years older."

"Oh, right."

"What?"

You smirk at his dark look. "You like 'em way older."

His face, much like his gaze, heats up. You're imaging it when the ride turns red, the car slows to a stop, and he is looking at your lips. Surely it was, because you got transfixed with the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. A slow, tantalising movement.

It feels like an eternity stretched within three seconds. The light turns green and both of you turn away.

Well, there's been that. A few times. But it doesn't mean anything. Aemond is in that transition of trying to rid himself of bad habits, of being freshly single once again, and you know he and Alys get in on frequently. This had been a conversation a few days back, on a couch, smell of grease and pizza around the room while Murder She Wrote played in the background.

"Wait, wait, wait." You sat up, folding your legs underneath your butt, and giving Aemond your full attention with a little 'o' in your mouth.

"Wait!" Helaena calls playfully from her sway to the bathroom. "Imma pee!"

"Take care, my beloved!" you call back, before turning to Aemond with a big, Cheshire grin.

"Can we not dwell on it?" He's flustered but is trying not to show it, looking back to the TV as if he understood why there's a body on the plane.

But wine has been had, spilled and shared, and it's enough for you to grab that fluster and the topic, and smirked.

"No, no, we will talk about it. We shall! We must! Do you mean to tell me that by the end of it, most of the time, you two were just boning? Is Aemy, one of my favourite people in the world, a Valyrian Sex God?? Oh my god??"

"I am not a Valyrian Sex God."

"Okay, girly pop, please." You raised a hand in a 'talk to the hand' motion and he was smiling at you, entranced and frustrated. "Women talk, Aemy!"

There was a flush and Helaena came back. Wine did things to Helaena, and she was stumbling and giggling as she flopped behind you, turning around and encasing you in a koala hug.

"Women talk, baby bro." Helaena nodded sagely. "Even I try not to listen, they talk, alas."

"And Alys has said those hips—"  You pointed a j'accuse finger at his hips, then his mouth. "—and that tongue has done things that can make the Maiden blush."

Helaena groaned behind you're back, a slew of 'ew's escaping her mouth. And you were still being playful, teasing, but Aemond was looking at you, though scarlet, with a deepened expression.

And at that moment, both of you were thinking the same thing.

His chin brushing your thighs, your sighs like music to his ears, and his tongue making you scream.

Warmth pooled, twin expressions share a gaze. Hunger, desire, shame.

The connection was destroyed when Helaena abruptly jolted and fell down the carpet. Because she was holding onto you, you got pulled with her.

"Are you okay??" Aemond asked.

Hel gasped. "I thought I saw Bobby. I think I squished Bobby."

You shook your head. "You didn't. Bobby is spry. Bobby knows to move away."

Aemond's confused face peered down at both of you. "Who's Bobby?"

"The local spider that lives here."

"Of course." And he smiled.

You smiled back.

Helaena giggled beside you but when you ask her, she only shook her head.

And the silence that lulls in the car is like both of you reaching the very same memory and having to sit through the stifle of that drunken interaction about his sex life. He coughs, you let out a breathy giggle.

"I should admit something," he says, parking the car in front of the restaurant. Dusk is settling, sunset in bright red and orange turning to a cool blue and pretty lavender— and when you turn to him after getting out of the car, coddling your jacket close to your body, he looks nervy. Apologetic, almost.

"What? What'd you do?"

He bites his bottom lip. "I know something about this restaurant."

"I would assume. You chose it." Your eyes narrow, giving the black-out floor to ceiling windows a look. The Painted Table is lit up in a scrawled font on top of it.

You step inside, not bothering to turn to his call of your name, and is submerged by the restaurant's vibe. It's a darkened place with meaningful lighting but a casual air, a bar on the side, and an upbeat jazzy music dancing in the air — it looks good. The place smelled delicious.

Nothing about it sparked familiarity to you, but the anticipation from that look of guilt on his face brought you to a high-strung, so when he calls your name again, just behind you, you turn.

"Is this where you had your first date with Alys?"

He shakes his head. "No. No, but—"

"Aemond?"

The voice is familiar, and you don't stop enough to think before you're turning to the low, clear voice that's just a hint of husky, and Alys' green eyes go wide at your appearance.

She's dressed nice, dressed to go out in a black dress dipping low and fabric tangled around her body to show off her curves. Her inky hair was swept to one side and her mouth was bloodred.

Alys Rivers, owner of Aemond's firsts. The woman he seemingly can't let go off.

You smile. It feels fake. "Oh. Hi Alys."

Her shock staves off into a genuine smile that makes you guilty. "Hi, my love. I see you two are together. Always attached at the hip. Dinner?"

Before you nod— or maybe strangle Aemond — he comes forward, taking your hand in the process and lacing it. He's looking at her as if he's setting a challenge when Alys' eyes fall on your intertwined hands.

"Yes," he says. "We are."

"Well... that's good. This place is great. I—" Someone calls her name, she turns back. You shoot Aemond a withering glare you hope conveys how much you're going to beat his ass after this. She turns back, smiling still. There's a pinch between her eyes but it's gone by the third blink. "Well, I have to go. I'll see you both soon, okay?" She turns to you, stepping forward, not minding the Targaryen beside you. "Especially you. We haven't hung out in a while."

"That's true, I've missed you, you crazy witch." And she laughs and you smile, because you genuinely consider Alys to be one of your friends. Not maybe as deeply as Helaena's, or as close, but Alys was an amazing person and you enjoy her company.

Plus, right now the one you're angry about it solely the man holding your hand.

Alys turns to Aemond, and he stiffens. Between them is a complicated look. So many things unsaid, before her smirk softens. "It's nice to see you too, Aemond."

And she turns away, walking back to her table, to her date, when you tug him with you to the bar. As you order a dry martini, he speaks. Calm and soft.

"You're mad at me."

"You knew she was going to be here." You turn to him, arching an eyebrow, hating the way your chest pangs. "You stalked her and brought us here because you wanted to use me."

He shifts, face crumples at the word 'use' and calls your name in a plead. "It's not like that."

You snort, taking a sip of your drink when it arrives. "Don't lie."

"Okay. Yes, I did. I... I made an impulsive decision because I wanted to see how she could go on a date as if we were nothing." Bitterness cripples his words, the smirk on his lips is ironic and darkened in hurt. Your heart hurts for him, but you can't give him a pass just like that. He hurt you too.

"You could've told me."

He raises an eyebrow. "You would be okay with this?"

Your own smile is ironic and darkened by hurt. "You're already using me, Aemy. That was the deal I agreed, for Hel. It would at least lick the wound to have been in the know, and not, you know, got shot in the face with it."

At the first part of your tirade, he looked like he wanted to argue with the using part, but the realisation weighs him because it is true. To him, he is using you. And it's a cheap shot on your part because you were also doing this for him, out of your own free will.

You sigh when he turns away, guilt dipping low.

"You're such a dumbass."

He hums in agreement.

You're aware of a gaze from the tables, somewhere in the ocean of jazz music and chatter, Alys is looking, and you kinda wanna make this good for him. You were already here after all.

Your hand reaches his jaw, sliding across his neck until you reach his nape and fingers tangle with the baby hairs there. His hair had been wrapped into a bun. Sleek and fluffy.

He turns to you, to your touch, in shock. "What are you—"

"Try not to look so surprised," you whisper, stepping close to him until your noses are bumping. "We're supposed to be dating."

And then you slant your mouth against his.

TAGGED: @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr @astroswift @queenofshinigamis @helaenaluvr @kaetastic @jxdegodfrey @laniii-on-your-left @watercolorskyy @snowprincesa1 @gemini-mama

[thebearer]

honestly, thinking about the last episode and thinking about pete, and i am an honest to god pete defender.

like he is so good to sugar, and tries to hard to be good for her, good for the whole family. he knows how fucked up they all are, and he's just there- a little sunshiney boy trying to keep everything together. he has the best of intentions, he really does.

the scene with donna outside the restaurant. how he's just trying to do what's best and he feels empathy for her? he sees the best in people and honestly, i get why they're hard on him- he's not their usual type in the family, but pete deserves all the love and support genuinely.

just picturing your first true berzatto family get together. donna wants to see the new baby, so they have it at the restaurant. steven and michelle from out of town, jimmy, leo, donna, everyone- the whole gang. you're overwhelmed, especially when donna starts drinking.

pete just kinda comes and sits by you, while you're alone and unsure in the corner. you'd already been hounded with a million questions, carmen is trying to keep the peace in the kitchen, trying to check on you, trying to keep everyone from killing each other.

"how are you doing?" pete asks, sitting beside you, baby mikey in his arms.

"i-i'm good." you muttered, eyes darting around the room.

"it's a lot." pete sighed.

"it is a lot." you muttered, nodding slowly. "i mean, i knew it was gonna be a lot. carmy warned me on that but it's like..."

"so much worse than you thought it would be?" pete looked at you carefully.

"yeah." you nodded. "i, uh, i understand a lot more now."

"they're, uh, they're actually really nice. all of them, on their own." pete offered. "like steve and michelle, they're great, really. easy to talk to, always really nice, super fuckin' funny. and...and you know jimmy. leo is... leo's kinda a ball buster. got this dry sense of humor, but he'll be nice to you, a little invasive you know? but he's got good intentions."

you nodded slowly, eyes scanning around the room towards each person. "what about his mom?" you muttered, looking at the white haired woman nursing another glass of chardonnay. "she, uh, she hasn't spoke to me the whole time. i tried to introduce myself and she walked right past me." you tried not to sound hurt, carmen told you to shake it off, but it did hurt. that was his mother, no matter how he tried to play it off.

"donna is... donna is a lot." pete hummed. "she... you can't force donna. ok? she'll come to you when she's ready. right now, she doesn't know who you are. and as fucked up as it is, it's her way of looking out for carm, looking out for herself. just give that one time. she's watching you."

you scoffed lightly. "yeah? that supposed to make me feel better pete?"

"no. no not at all." pete laughed. "but, just some advice. you gonna leave carmen anytime soon?"

"no." you furrowed your brows, shooting a glare at him.

"then you show her that. she'll ease into you. i promise." pete said.

"thank you, pete." you nodded sincerely at him. "thanks for this."

"of course." pete grinned. "it's a lot and they're all too caught up in their own to try and help so... we outsiders gotta look out for each other."

you laughed lightly, looking down at the baby in his arms. he had the berzatto nose, carmen's and mikey's. "you're not an outsider anymore." you grinned. "not with this little guy."

pete smiled proudly. "i'm still an outsider. just got like a lifetime pass in." you laughed, reaching out to stroke the baby's soft tuft of hair. "you wanna hold him?"

"are you sure?" your eyes flashed to him. "i'm not great at it."

pete shrugged, fishing his hand sanitizer out and tossing it to you. "just don't drop him. i won't abandon you with him. promise."

you freshly sanitized hands shook lightly, grabbing the baby a little unsure, shifting the weight in your arm until it was comfortable. baby mikey gurgled, face scrunching for a moment, before he settles, lulled back into whatever rest he was in before.

"ah, he likes you." pete boasted. "must know you're gonna be a vip like me."

you snorted lightly, swaying back and forth with the tiny baby. "yeah. hopefully."

"you will be." pete nodded, his eyes cutting over to the figure by the windows. "judging by carmy's face, you definitely will be."

you looked up, seeing your boyfriend standing there, a water in his white knuckled grip staring at you. you smiled gently, nodding him over.

"they got you on baby sitting duty?" carmen grinned, trying to play off how flustered he was before, how his heart was skipping a beat seeing you like that.

"somethin' like that." you hummed. "pete just asked if i wanted to hold him. he's cute. kinda looks like you."

carmen scoffed as pete boasted. "he does, doesn't he! i told nat that and she told me i was crazy! see, nat!" he stood, going to get his wife from across the room, a promise he'd be right back.

carmen slid into his spot, leaning over your shoulder to look at the baby- his nephew. "he's cute." he nodded. "sorry you got stuck with pete." his tone snarled, rolling his eyes gently.

"hey, stop that." you frowned. "pete is very sweet, alright? he's a good guy, carm."

carmen could feel his shoulders tense. he was a good fuckin' guy, he knew that, that's why they gave him such a hard time. "you're right." carmen muttered. "he is a good guy."

"what were you two talking about?" carmen asked, letting the baby wrap his tiny fist around his finger.

"he was just telling me about your family."

"oh." carmen rolled his eyes sarcastically. "i'm sure that was great."

"it was." you said firmly, looking at him. "all the good stuff, baby. promise."

carmen blushed, resisting the urge to kiss you while his sister and pete came back over, pete exaggeratedly talking about how the baby did look like carmy and mikey and you agreed, which then brought jimmy over to give his opinion, stevie and michelle following, until everyone was around you bickering and throwing back and forth about who was right.

[luveline]

For your kisses before dinner au, can I request a late night moment, not nsfw or anything just what their evenings are like? ty🧡

ty for ur request!! kisses before dinner ♡ pregnant!reader

You and Steve lie shoulder to shoulder in the dark. 

"You think they're sleeping?" you whisper. 

"I have no clue." 

You're both too terrified to move. Any noise at all risks waking up the girls. If you can avoid waking them up, there's a possibility that you and Steve might get some time alone. 

You have as many little ones as you do because you love them, everything about them, at all times of day. And sure, they exhaust you, but you wouldn't have had them if you couldn't handle it. If you couldn't manage the bad with the good.

You want to curl into a ball on top of him but the distension of your stomach makes it difficult. Baby bumps are made for homing and protection, they aren't super super fragile, but you've always been cautious and that isn't gonna change anytime soon. 

"I miss being able to lie on top of you," you confess. 

"You still could. Back to my chest," he offers. 

"Not the same." 

"If you loved me, you'd use me like a mattress topper." 

You fit together well when you're on top. Cheek to cheek, legs between his legs. Sometimes you hook a thigh up over one of his hips. It can't be comfortable for him and he's never complained, not once in all the years you've loved him. 

It's super Steve of him. He whines about all the wrong things. 

Case in point. "Are you gonna lie on me or am I dragging you?" 

"Can you? I'm too heavy." 

Steve scoffs. No matter what weight you are, pregnant or not, he insists that you're never 'too' anything. "Would you quit it?" 

"I don't want to lie on you like that. I miss being able to-" You shrug, tracing the barely illuminate line of his nose with loving eyes. "To cuddle like we're the same person." 

It's corny. Steve knows exactly what you mean. 

"We are the same person," he insists. He starts trying to turn your names into one, creating a hodgepodge of poorly strung syllables.

He has the unique ability to make you laugh at just about anything. He can get you giggling in the delivery room if he tries hard enough. 

You shift your arm where it's sandwiched so close to his and go searching for his outermost wrist, pulling it to your face for lazy kisses. His palm resting at your lips, you close your eyes and picture the face he's making. He's definitely turned his head to yours, giving you that "you're so crazy" expression he does, like he's startled you'd dote on him. 

"Wanna make out?" he asks. 

You're about to say yes when footsteps sound.

Steve eases up onto his elbow to kiss you sweetly, too quickly, before he takes the end of the blankets into his hand and pulls them over your heads. 

You know exactly who it is from the footsteps alone. Avery pushes open the door, and she sounds almost shy as she whispers, "Are you still awake?" 

"We're sleeping," Steve says back. You laugh as quietly as you're able to, tummy trembling under his hand with the motion. 

"I want to talk to you." 

That's not so funny. Steve moves the blankets back down. "About what, Avey-bear?" 

She's hard to make out in the dark, not with the light from the hallway at her back. You can see her hair, it's bed head frizz, and the ruffles of her nightie at her knees. 

"About anything." 

You snort. All your worry turns to amusement, and affection, and you make space between you and Steve immediately. You move too fast. 

"Be careful," Steve says to you softly, prompted by your little breathless sigh. Lately, your back has felt super sore, like somebody's taken to it with a meat tenderiser. 

"Come and sit with us," you tell Avery. 

She races around to your side and waits for you to pick her up. You would, of course, and you'd hug her to death as soon as she was in your arms, but you'd really hurt yourself somehow and you don't want to make it worse. 

"Come round to my side," Steve says. 

You smile at her unimpressed expression, "I can't move too much. Baby's kicking my spine." 

She gawps at you, tiny white teeth shining like pearls. "She's what?" 

It's important to note that you don't know the baby's gender. Avery says 'she' because her dad does. That, and it must make sense to her — Avery has felt the little kicking feet of two sisters before. It's sad, and silly, but for a split second you feel sorry that the only people who'd ever felt her kick were you and Steve. It had been one of the best (and then quickly one of the most agitating) feelings in the world. 

Avery, big sister extraordinaire, and biggest, bestest eldest daughter they ever made, climbs up onto the bed by herself and positions her face carefully over the hill of your baby bump. "You have to be nice," she whisper passionately, "you're hurting mom." 

You stroke her forehead. "Baby can't help it. She's growing." 

"You said 'she,'" Steve coos. 

"It's easier." You're not sure at all what the baby is. You have no premonitions. No inkling of one guess or another. 

"She," Steve says, "really can't help it Avery, but you're a good girl for trying to protect mom." 

"Thank you," you say, cupping her cheek. 

"You're welcome," she says. 

You're the kind of mom that some little kids can't abide — all you want, all the time, are hugs. You steal them at breakfast and lunch and dinner, in the car, in the garden, in the supermarket. You love to move in behind them and cuddle their unsuspecting shoulders. Lucky for you, they've all grown to return the same affection. Avery, amazingly careful of your stomach, crawls the rest of the way up the bed to the pillows and lays down curled toward you, pulling your arm to her chest for a hug. 

Steve moves onto his side and sidles up behind her. He moves his arm over your two bodies, his hand over your shoulder, his eyes glued to your face. 

"We've done this before," he murmurs. 

You and Steve and Avery and an unnamed baby. 

"Do you think your sisters are sleeping?" you ask. 

"Mm, Beth is snoring again," she complains. 

"Dove isn't this quiet when she's awake," Steve says. 

"Guess it's just you with us tonight, beautiful," you say, pulling the covers over Avery's shoulder. Swimming in bed sheets, she beams at you, really smiles, and her face seems like it's nearly too small to hold a happy that big. 

"What did you want to talk about?" you ask. 

"Everything." 

Steve closes his eyes and pushes his face into the back of her head. You wrap your arm over Avery to bracelet his arm with your fingers. If you're clinging too tight, he doesn't complain. 

[only-the-moon-will-tell]

Headcannon: Poly relationship! With Noah and Nick

A/N: Now my intention was for this to be a lil fluff piece but somebody and I'm not saying names or nothing @artificialbreezy 👀👀 was discussing something with me and brought out my whore mindset and so here we are 🤷🏾‍♀️

- imagine you come downstairs one morning and you see Noah cooking breakfast while Nick is sitting up on the counter and they're just talking and joking

- Thankfully they don't see you yet so you just stand there with your arms crossed in awe watching them filled with nothing but love in your eyes and amazed at how you got so lucky

- Noah perks up and says "hey it's almost done you wanna go get y/n?"

- And Nick hops down from the counter and turns to leave and sees you standing there and jumps "oh shit you scared me how long have you been there?" You don't answer as your too zoned out

- Nick comes closer and taps your shoulder and waves a hand in front of you "hellloooo earth to y/n" which snaps you out of it

- You shake your head and look at nick not quite looking him in the eyes (his eyes are so pretty I'd fucking panic I'm sorry)

- Lots of "yes princess?" And you going "yes my love?"

- Physical touch! One of them is always touching you whether it be laying their head in your lap when chilling on the couch or an arm around your shoulder in public they just need to touch you!!

-

- NSFW

- Noah? Daddy Kink

- Nick? Sir AND Daddy kink

- When it's just the three of you at home you just call them "daddy" or "sir" because that's their name now no discussion 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

- Degrading 🤝 Praising

- As Miley Cyrus says ✨ You get the best of both worlds ✨

- "Oh look at that our little slut does know how to follow instructions"

- If you're a brat then it's OVER

- Cause Noah? Oh he might lessen up on you if he thinks you're learning your lesson but nick? He stops when he knows you've learned it

it doesn't matter if it's writing line while one of them is stuffed deep inside you and filling you with cum you better still be writing those lines and they better be legible or it's just gonna get worse for you

Or maybe they'll tie you up to a chair and attach a vibrator to you but it'll barely touch your clit giving you just the bare minimum to keep you on edge for as long as they want you too

noah would probably eat you out (he's a fucking MUNCH i just know it) meanwhile Nick is holding you down making sure you can't squirm away while just saying shit like "aww you look so pretty when you cry"

or or "don't beg him to stop now you wanted this didn't you?"

- Nick has a dacryphilia kink so when you have tears running down your face Noah might soften a little bit on you it just eggs nick on more

- He wants to see how many more tears he can make you cry

- Not his fault you look so pretty when you're ruined behind repair

- "Aww your mascara is running a little baby...here let's make it run a little more"

- Their favorite part of ruining your makeup? Your lipstick of course

- It's all smudged and nearly gone cause they had to put that fucking mouth of yours to work

- Its not their fault you decided to keep running your mouth all day talking about how they weren't gonna do anything to you and they were just so so weak

- Now here you are hands tied behind your back and hair an absolute fucking mess cause they can't stop yanking it and caressing your head as your struggle to take them in your mouth

- "Finally getting to put this filthy mouth to good use"

- One would grab ahold of your hair so you can't move while the other grabs your face so they can fuck your throat just how they like it

- Spit running down your chin and onto your chest but don't worry! They fuck your pretty tits too and paint them with cum

- Facials!!!! Gotta make sure you don't forget who's cumdump you are

- They probably jerked off at the same time so you could be covered with both of their cum

- "Open up and tongue out princess" and *click* there goes another picture to add to their private folders

They're favorite part of it all tho? when you're so far gone you can't even think let alone speak

"You gonna keep acting like a fucking brat?" and all you can do is babble about absolute nonsense and moan in response

[bruciemilf]

Imagine that one scene from that animated series justice league where Batman reveals everyone's secret identity(like a badass) then takes off his cowl and they're all in shocked confusion. I mean that's baby girl Bruce Wayne, sunshine of Gotham as The Dark Knight. Then they all get really protective of him. They might've feared him before but now they know he's just baby. It doesn't matter that he can beat them all, he's baby... Idk I find the idea cute

Okay, so I love that scene dearly, but my heart screams for something more personal? If that makes sense? I'll take inspiration from one of my favorite Spider-Man identity revels.

Let's imagine this; The city, Gotham or Metropolis or just an unlucky piece of land that had a really bad day. Hal saw the building collapse first, coming down on them like an avalanche of death.

Hal isn't very good at brain work; He's not like Flash, who can map out an entire route in his mind in a blink, calculating escape routes, and distances, and lengths, and how fast he can run without injuring anyone.

He's not strategic like Wonder Woman, or pragmatic like Batman, or sensible like Superman. He's not the brainpower; But he's pretty damn good at acting like he's okay.

And withstanding that building because Superman got Injured, well.

He can do so with sweat raining down his temple and pain screaming in his system and a smile on his lips, "This is a really good arm work out, guys,"

" Hang in there, Lantern,"

He hears that you're doing great, Hal just well under his hero moniker from Barry. It's a good power up, if nothing else.

Wonder Woman rubs his shoulders before attending to the injured, helping them dig a way out before the oxygen dries out.

Another thing he's not good at is comforting people; He's lost to crying kids. Especially crying kids whose parents are paste under rubble and hubris.

His back is arching, his fire's going out. All he knows is that those little sniffles and whimpers in the hissing silence hurts worse.

The only person he can think would be worse than him at it is Batman; Stone masked, more shadow than person, a labyrinth of a man.

But Hal isn't paid to think for a reason, because Batman kneels by that kid, and places a fatherly hold on his shoulders, just like Hal's father used to do when he bruised his knees climbing trees.

He doesn't say anything, because there's nothing to say. Words aren't medicine, after all. He's just waiting, it seems like, until the kid speaks first, " My daddy's dead."

"...Yes. I'm sorry."

"But, -- but you were here. You're the justice league! No one dies when you're around! You're supposed to save everybody! So why-- why not him?!"

The weight gets heavier.

" Your father asked us to take care of you first. He protected you."

" You should've left me, then! What am I going to do now? I'm just, -- I'm just...A human."

" So am I."

" No, you're Batman. That's, -- That's not the same. You don't understand. "

Hal's vision is blurry and pained, bordering dangerously close to the deep dark void of unconsciousness, -- but he can't, he can't, God damn it Hal, be useful for once in your entire life, -- but he makes out a shadow moving.

He makes out the shape of Bruce's cowl, an armor, a secret, a mystery with no epilogue. Then he sees pale. Two dots of blue, sparkling from dark grey smudge.

When his vision sharpens, so does the tired face of Bruce Wayne.

"...Oh, holy shit."

" I do, " his voice changes, too, thought that may be just Hal's pumping eardrums playing tricks on him. He goes from grainy and rough to rain soft and porcelain. " I do know. Our pain isn't the same. But the way we can get through it, is. Together."

The kid falls in his arms. For just a moment, it seems like death won when the ring powers out.

"Shazam!"

" Hey guys," Shazam's pretty wheezy for a tank made of beef and godly hands, " Sorry for the hold up. Got stuck in traffic."

They make it out. They use the picture of Wonder Woman carrying him out on her back, and Green Arrow shoves it in his face at the first opportunity.

He doesn't expect them to stick around in the hospital. But he does need to know, " Okay, so, hopefully that wasn't a near death fever dream. But are you Bruce Wayne?"

He asks Batman, and Bruce answers, a tone of shyness not unlikely a new kid introducing himself to the class, " ...Yes. and you're Hal Jordan."

"...Was it the biceps that gave it away?"

He doesn't smile, but Hal doesn't expect him to.

" Well, I mean...I'm in for the long run with you guys," Barry offers them a dorky smile before taking off his mask, too. " My name is Barry Allen. And I'm the fastest man alive...Also a bit of a science nut. I need to see your gadgets, by the way. Your Kevlar durability is just amazing, I mean the way you somehow altered the material,--"

" Oh," Apparently, Batman can blush. It's pretty addictive.

One by one, they follow, all easy smiles, all trust.

" My name is Diana. Princess of Themyscaria. I enjoy ice cream and swords."

" My name is Oliver Queen, and if you want to make a gay joke, don't bother. I said them all and I'm getter at it. And you!" He points directly at Bruce with an arrow, " You're in so much trouble for not telling me about this!"

" You didn't tell me either."

" What kind of detective can't explain the white, blonde, rich, good looking guy apart from Green Arrow? Come on."

Hal has a suspicion Bruce already knew, but said nothing out of courtesy.

" Hal Jordan. I almost broke my spine for you, so, you're welcome for That."

Superman strokes the back of his neck and hunches his shoulders, " I'm, uh, Clark Kent. I'm a journalist for the Daily Planet. I, uh...Make a mean apple pie. Which I could really go for right now."

" Hey, you punched Lex Luthor in the face! Good on you, man."

Diana chuckles, " You'll have to make your famous apple pie for us some time."

" Sure. I like eating with friends."

Hal and Oliver are definetly discussing that blush on Bruce later.

They all turn to Shazam, who's been listening, quiet for once, before he blows a laugh, "Uh, yeah, pass. You guys are nice and all, but I'm more than fine with this. Just me. Good old Shazam."

Crack.

" Is that...Is that a fucking 10 year old?!"

" I'm eleven!"

" What the FUCK,--"

" Don't curse in front of the 9 year old!"

" Again, I am eleven!"

" Who let the 8 year old in!?"

" Wow. Adults really don't listen, huh."

Bruce quite literally shakes on one place, " Are, um, are your parents deceased by chance?" He sounds hopeful about it, too.

" So. A handsome pilot. The fastest dork alive. A badass princess. A good guy who punches hard. A bow and arrow. A weirdo. And a 5 year old. We're quite the group, huh?"

" Again. I'm 11."

" Until you don't bring me some pizza and a bear, you're nothing."

[meraxesmoon]

Yandere! Platonic! Rhaenyra w/ Her Cole! Daughter

note: she's on my mind 24/7, lol

warnings: yandere content, giving nyra the daughter she deserved to have, possessive rhaenyra, girl dad laenor, toxic papa criston, talk of the "incident", petty nyra, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, major spoilers, angst, reader gets married to aemond but it's never explicitly mentioned

♡ One of my favorite little details we got in the show was how Rhaenyra was subtly possessive of her children. It almost seems like she's hesitant to share them with anyone, even their father. For example, Laenor was always getting cut off when it came to their boys, so I believe that Rhaenyra is possessive of her children. I think it would get so much worse if she had a daughter, though! Nyra loves her baby girl so much, even if her father is someone Rhaenyra wants nothing to do with now.

♤ I especially like the idea of her daughter being her oldest child and the one that looks the most like her, or even her mother (not including her skin, of course). Rhaenyra was so scared the first time she had given birth, but I can imagine she was so happy to learn she had a girl! I think that Rhae was especially close with her own mother, so she's happy she can have the same type of relationship with her own daughter!

♡ Rhaenyra makes sure that Viserys is the first to meet her baby girl, too. He's a grandpa now! Nyra is like one of those cats showing off their babies because they're so proud. However, she's painfully aware of how hard it's going to be to keep her daughter by her side like she wants to. The small council will want to marry her off one day, and that just breaks Rhaenyra's heart. She doesn't ever want her baby to leave her, so she dreads the day that (Name) will grow up and be of age to marry.

♤ As for (Name)'s father figure, Laenor absolutely adores their baby girl. He's the proudest papa to ever exist! He often tries to take her on trips with him, but Nyra would never allow it. He knows that she's not biologically his daughter, but that would never matter to Laenor. As far as he's concerned, she's his perfect little girl. Laenor is such a girl dad for their baby, too! Once she's old enough, Laenor likes to put her hair up into intricate Targaryen-typical braids. He used to do the same thing to Laena when they were children, so it's slightly bittersweet for him since he misses her so much.

♡ As for Criston, he can't get very close to (Name) due to Rhaenyra's possessiveness over her daughter. Nyra keeps her close, little (Name) following her like a baby duckling, and Rhaenyra makes it clear that she wants him nowhere near her precious baby. This makes him so frustrated because while he doesn't care for Rhaenyra as he used to, Criston has such a soft spot in his heart for his daughter. She's literally his world, and it kills him that he can't be a father to her because of Laenor and Rhaenyra. He absolutely loses his shit when Harwin comes into the picture and starts watching over the little princess as well. That's his baby, not Harwin's!

♤ Imagine how heart-wrenching it would be if Rhaenyra's daughter acted a lot like Aemma did :(

♡ Rhaenyra was very rebellious and sort of a troublemaker, so when little (Name) gets older and is more laid back and motherly towards her siblings, it makes Nyra think so much of her own mother. I feel like Rhaenyra would sort of... condition her daughter to cling to her even as she grew older, so having (Name) around so much definitely helps Rhaenyra keep her calm even when things in Kings Landing are going badly.

♤ Speaking of, after Aemond loses his eye and Rhaenyra moves to Dragonstone, she's weirdly happy that her daughter isn't living in Kings Landing anymore. Rhaenyra had this overwhelming paranoia that her daughter would find out about Criston fathering her, and just the thought makes her blood boil. She's glad that she can keep (Name) away from him, even if it means hearing her poor girl cry about missing her family.

♡ I mentioned marriage issues earlier, and as her daughter gets older, the more worried Rhaenyra gets. She thinks of marrying (Name) to Jace, but she needs connections to house Velaryon through Baela. Rhaenyra doesn't want her daughter to marry at all. In fact, she wouldn't even give her a choice in the matter. I imagine that she would be pressured into it by the small council, and her poor baby would be forced to marry one of Alicent's children.

♤ Rhaenyra is just one big mother hen, and after the death of Lucerys, she becomes desperate. She needs to have her sweet girl by her side and away from the man who killed her poor Luke. Rhaenyra would arrange to have her daughter whisked away from the Red Keep to be brought back to Dragonstone. After all, (Name) is her heir and only daughter.

♡ Rhaenyra needs her sweet girl at her side.

[emeritus-fuckers]

GIGGLING TWIRLING AND KICKING MY FEET. ANYTHING WITH TERZO PLS !!!

<333

I'm a sucker for fluffy family shit - Jez

Terzo as a dad headcanons

He's very insecure at first, scared he's gonna be like Nihil.

But he's super thrilled at the same time, he adores babies!

Totally there for the birth, doesn't care if his hand gets absolutely ruined and if he gets cursed for eight generations. He is there and that's it.

He absolutely fucking cries when he sees his baby!

Gushes about his child to everyone, no matter the occasion. (Think Maes Hughes from FMAB but even worse)

This man has pictures of his partner and kid(s) all over his walls.

He gets the names and birthdays of his children tattooed.

He's big on gentle parenting and communication - things he himself craved as a child.

He does have a small fantasy of Irish twins, but he'd never dare ask you for that, he knows having a baby is incredibly exhausting for your body.

He makes sure you're on bed rest for a long time before he lets you walk around.

Probably has Omega carry you around while he himself carries the baby right next to you.

He gets so lost in baby talk it becomes a part of his everyday speech.

He could be discussing something with his brothers and then calling some random object how he calls it with his baby.

His perfect afternoon is sitting on the couch, you snuggled into his side as the baby sits and babbles on his lap.

Satan save the ministry if his child's first word is "Papa" because this man will not live it down.

"Oh, I'm sorry, old man, do you have a precious little baby whose first word was Papa and who squeals in delight when they see you? No? Yeah, that's what I thought." - Terzo to Nihil after being told to do his job

Nihil is not allowed anywhere near the babies, by the way.

Terzo absolutely goes to Primo for parenting advice. Anything weird happening to the baby? He bolts for his oldest brother.

Terzo's brothers both get to play an active role in the children's lives.

If they were to find out Copia was their brother, he's absolutely getting involved, too.

And his little ones would be such little charmers!

If you pump or formula feed, you don't even see the bottle before he feeds the baby. He's just so quick with it, it's ridiculous.

Loves to give baths to the baby, especially when they're a bit older so he can splash the water with them.

He would have a bit of an issue with diapers at first, but he's a brave boy and he can take it. It just takes a few days at first. After that, he's 100% ready and willing to change diapers.

Omega teases him that his kids are gonna be taller than him. Secondo totally joins in on the teasing. (And you do, too)

[seijorhi]

ok ok i have been thinking about oikawa <33

tw: baby trapping, infertility, yandere vibes, oikawa is an awful, terrible man

namely, oikawa with a darling who for whatever reason can't have kids.

he wants a family with you more than almost anything else. a pretty wife, a nice big house, a wall for his trophies and medals, and a couple of adorable looking kids to tie the whole picture together. that's the dream.

you not being able to get (or stay) pregnant naturally throws a kink in that plan, but not to worry, where there's a will, there's a way. surrogacy is out of the question, he can't have too many people prying too closely into his relationship with you.

adoption's a little easier to manage, especially if he's not tied up with the red tape of the 'official' channels.

he'll just come home one day, two little bundles of joy in arms, and introduce you to your babies; a boy and a girl, how sweet!

and no, you don't need to worry your pretty little head about where he got them from, they're your babies now, that's all that matters.

except, no amount of him telling you that makes you feel anything maternal towards the twins. you're concerned about them, absolutely, you're not some cold, unfeeling monster. you'll take care of them when oikawa leaves, read to them, feed them, hold and soothe them when they cry – but that doesn't make you their mother.

(and you shudder to think about what happened there)

unfortunately, seeing you look after his children awakens something inside of him. he's always been insatiable, but when he fucks you now, your thighs pushed back, his cock driving into you with a relentless pace, he gets this manic, intense look in his eyes, starts talking about how he's going to fuck another kid into you, how he's gonna keep you barefoot and pregnant. you're such a good mama, aren't you, he'll give you all the kids you want. he'll give you everything, you just have to take it.

and you know he knows that's an impossibility, but in the heat of the moment you get this sick, twisty feeling inside of you.

you can't just wait around for him to find a way to follow through on that promise. you have to get out. it's bad enough that you have to leave those poor babies with him, but on paper at the very least, they are his kids, and you're not their mother.

but your husband is nothing if not perceptive. he turns to you one night, a sweet smile on his handsome face, 'you know i'd be beside myself without you, i don't know what i'd do if i lost you.' he laces his fingers with yours, brings you hand to his lips and kisses it softly, holding your gaze the entire time. '… what'd happen to those kids without their mama around.'

you hear it for the undeniable threat that it is.

your blood runs cold.

he wouldn't... he wouldn't hurt the babies, right?

oikawa's many things; jealous, perverse, possessive, with a mean streak that borders on sadistic at times, but that's always been directed solely towards you. you... and anyone he deemed a threat to your relationship.

he's already done awful, illegal things to get you here, is it really such a stretch to think he'd do worse to keep you tethered?

while you might not view the babies as yours per se, the same can't be said for oikawa. he's a doting father, he adores them – whether they're his blood or not.

he wouldn't hurt them.

he wouldn't.

but the next time you see him with his daughter in his arms, lifting her up to blow raspberries against her stomach as she giggles and squirms in delight, you can't help the bolt of fear that shoots through you, the sudden urge to rush forward and take her from his arms. to protect her.

even if doing so only makes your husband grin.

[baronessblixen]

And We Go On

Day 4 for the Eight Nights of Mulder: endurance and my prompt for the 24 Days of X-Mas Files Challenge: bad Christmas puns

Summary: On the car ride after they said goodbye to Emily, Mulder tries his best to ease some of Scully's pain. (emotional hurt/comfort with some humor thrown in; wc: 1,134)

Tagging @today-in-fic @eightnightsofmulder

They're wrapped in a coat of silence as they step outside the church, their steps in perfect sync. What is there to say, anyway? What do you say to someone who's just said goodbye to the child she didn't know she had? Mulder opens the car door for Scully and lingers there until she has put her seatbelt on.

A few yards away, Scully's family is still smiling and fawning over baby Matthew, and he hopes he's blocking Scully's view. After laying her own daughter to rest, she doesn't need to see this. If he could take her pain away, he would in a heartbeat. All he can do, however, is be here for her, and follow her lead.

Inside the car, there's neither enough space, nor air. When the silence threatens to crush them, Mulder turns on the radio. Soft melodies fill the car, and he fears he's only making things worse.

"Can we drive a while?" Her question cuts through the tension and stuns him. He clears his throat before he says, "Of course." Scully hardly ever asks for anything, and he's prepared to give her everything. He'd drive her to the end of the world if that's what she wanted.

"I'm just not ready to face everything yet." A crack in her voice and her armor.

"It's okay. We can drive all day."

"My family would worry."

"Eh, just tell them it's my fault." It feels like it, too. He'll do his penance. In front of a God he doesn't believe in, if he has to. Anything for her. He glances over at Scully, shocked at how ashen her face is and how devoid of life. Only weeks ago, the color returned to her cheeks. After she beat her cancer, he thought this was it. He thought they were in the clear. But there's always something else waiting for them, trying to take them down.

Years ago, Scully told him how much she loved Christmas. They were younger then, their friendship new and untarnished. She told him about Scully family traditions and that no matter what, they always laughed. Back then he didn't know the Scullys, had yet to meet Mrs. Scully, Melissa, and Bill Jr. When he pictured them, it was always with crinkled laugh lines around their eyes and a smile on their lips. The same one Scully wore when she mentioned her family.

Today, there is no laughter, no joy. And he can't bear it. She deserves more. She deserves a Christmas where she can smile, laugh, and just be herself.

"Hey, Scully?" He decides not to think too much about it. Just do whatever it takes. No matter how ridiculous he's going to look or sound." Let's taco about Christmas." It's a bad pun, but it's the first one that comes to his mind.

"What?" Her voice sounds weak. If he wants to make her laugh, or even smile, he has to up his game.

"I'm pine-ing for you this Christmas?" he tries.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her eyebrows knit in concern. At least he's distracting her from her pain.

"I'm up to snow good."

"You're..." he feels her eyes on him, and since there's not much traffic, he turns to look at her. Her expression is neutral, but he thinks she's thawing. He can't ease her agony; only time can do that. No one can stop him from trying, though. He will make her smile today, come what may.

"I've got high elf-esteem."

"You're insane." And he hears it. Soft, almost shy, but decidedly there: a giggle. A real, honest cackle. He grins, glancing at her. Tears shimmer in her eyes, and he reaches over the console to grab her hand.

"There's no gift like the present." Scully chortles and his heart soars. "I have something for you, by the way. I must admit I stole it from your brother's house, but I think it was a brilliant idea. Are you hungry at all? I'm a bit hungry. Reach into my coat pocket."

"This is not a trick, is it?"

"What? No." Her eyes on him, she sticks her hand into his pocket and fishes out two candy canes.

"Stole it last night and look, these candy canes are in mint condition."

"I'm not hungry."

"You don't need to be hungry for a candy cane, Scully." The plastic crackles as Scully unwraps the candy. Soft peppermint aroma fills the car. She's just holding the candy cane as if unsure what to do next.

"Want me to lick it?" He realizes the implications of what he just said a moment too late. Their eyes meet and then, miraculously, they're roaring with laughter, tears streaming down their faces. Mulder stops the car at the side of the road, needing a moment. Their laughter dies down slowly, a few chuckles falling out of their mouths here and there.

"Want to share?" Mulder asks after a moment.

"Snow be it," Scully replies, the corner of her mouth twitching. She breaks the candy cane in two, handing one half to Mulder. He's almost too mesmerized to notice it. Scully takes her half and bites off a large chunk, chewing slowly.

"I know what you're doing," she says. "And I appreciate it. Thank you." She puts her hand over his on his thigh. Her face is close to his and she smells sweet and fresh, like the candy cane. "I- I needed a moment of, um. I just needed a moment."

"I can come up with another thousand bad puns," he says earnestly.

"You never give up, do you?" Her smile is shaky.

"Only if absolutely forced to." She nods, quickly wiping away a few tears.

"I think I'm ready to go to my brother's house now."

"Are you sure? We can keep going. Hell, say the word and I'll drive us home."

"I know you would." She squeezes his hand. "I don't want to ask but..."

"You can ask for anything, Scully. Anything at all."

"Will you stay with me a while?"

"No one can stop me. Well, your brother could, but I won't let him. And if you need-"

"I know, Mulder. I know. Now tell me another one. I can see it in your eyes. You want to make another joke." Her smile may be colored in sadness, but it's still a smile, and he helped put it there. He starts the car again, Scully's hand falling from his and onto his thigh.

"What did one ornament say to another?" Mulder asks, trying to hide his delight. He pauses for effect until he can't hold it in any longer. "I like hanging with you." He hears a soft chuckle and it sounds glorious to his ears. It will take a while, but in the end, she'll be okay.

[vodika-vibes]

I’ll bet Arachne sends him pics of her in her spandex when he’s away 😜

Oh, absolutely. Of her in her spandex, of her in regular clothes, of her in new clothes. She spams his comm with messages and pictures when he's away. And also videos, like the time she attached a space GoPro to her hood and swung around Coruscant so he could see what it was like.

Arachne pouts up at Dogma as she wraps her arms around him, "You could...not go." "I can't ignore my orders, babe." Dogma replies as he carefully pulls himself out of her grasp, "We shouldn't be gone longer than a couple of months. And this gives you enough time to really get involved in your investigation." She pouts a little harder. "You pouting at me isn't going to convince me to stay, Arachne." Dogma teases with a grin. She huffs and folds her arms, "Fiiiine." And then she grins and flings her arms around his neck and kisses him deeply. Dogma, quite happily, sinks into the kiss, his arms tight around her. And then they're unceremoniously tugged apart by Rex. "Get on the ship, Dogma." Rex orders, lightly shoving the dreamy Dogma towards his brothers, "We're not going to be gone that long." "You don't let me have any fun." You huff at Rex, "You're a fun sucker." "I know you're only saying these mean and hurtful things because you're sad, so I forgive you." Rex says in total deadpan. And then he ruffles her hair, "See you when we get back, baby sister." Three Months Later "I wonder why we were called back early?" Dogma murmurs to his brothers, "Even General Skywalker doesn't know." He steps off the ship at the Jedi temple, followed by his brothers, and they all stop at the bottom of the ramp. "Uh...the temple sure is busy-" Rex says, as he takes a step back to avoid getting run over by a Scuba trooper, "I don't think Monnk's men have ever spent a large amount of time of Coruscant at all. I wonder what happened." "I'm telling you. I'm fine! I've had worse injuries without medical attention!" Arachne's voice rings, high and clear, across the room as she makes a beeline towards the men of the 501st with General Kenobi and General Windu on her heels. She's clad in medical scrubs, her hair is much shorter, and the majority of her exposed skin is covered in bandages. "Babe?" Dogma and Tup immediately move to her side, though neither of them reach out to touch her, their hands hovering just over her bandaged body, "Arachne, what happened?" Dogma asks. "There was an incident. I'm fine." "You were electrocuted and the only reason you're not dead is because of the Guard." General Windu counters, "Palpatine, as it happens, is a Sith. Was a Sith? He's dead now, so it doesn't matter." "...Arachne?" Tup asks. She hisses, "I was only there to place a spiderbot but I caught him torturing Commander Fox, so I said fuck the evidence, I'm dealing with this now. I'm fine. I've had much worse injuries without medical attention." The men of the 501st stare at her in shock. And Dogma, anxiously, reaches out to try and encourage her to sit in the chair that General Kenobi is pushing.

[stranded-labyrinth]

post fall hannibal and will are regularly blowing each other's backs out on beaches and beds and every other available surface in cuba. life is good and they're killing and eating folks together on the reg. they learn and know everything there is to learn and know about one another, until one night they're cooking and hannibal sees a spider in one of the vegetables and five minutes later he's on the counter while will busts a lung laughing at him but gets rid of the spider in like five seconds while also identifying which kind it is and what its habitat usually is etc etc so basically a little fic based on your post and featuring entomologist will graham

i had to look at pictures of garden spiders for this. i hate you.

anyway, this didn't end up being very crackficy at all. as a matter of fact, this is just angst LOL. i'm sorry for taking it so far beyond the direction you wanted it to go in

also, big warning for arachnophobia, because spiders are talked about a LOT in this fic!

------------------------------------

The weaving maiden, doomed to repeat her greatest accomplishment and gravest error for years to come.

Every so often, Hannibal found himself thinking back to her story. While he scarcely spoke of it, it had become one of his favorites.

There were two people on Earth who knew why Hannibal so frequently consumed human flesh, and one of them had counted herself amongst the dead that lay in his past. That left only one, who had stood alongside him, searing the other contender’s arm on a grill to show Hannibal the wonders of southern barbeque.

Then there was the classic depiction in Greek myth of mortals boasting to the divine, divinity striking down mercilessly until the mortal would indeed understand that there are fates worse than death.

Rule number one of the ancients: Never equate yourself to a god, nor place yourself above them.

Hannibal was quite certain that, should he have been born approximately 3,000 years prior, he would have been flayed open in public.

That being said, the myth was one of the only ones in existence to truly be able to make his skin crawl, and thus its horror was far more embedded into his mind than any of the other tragic tales of the Greeks (save for one that he’d lamented by heart for approximately four years).

People often made the mistake of assuming that spiders died off in the winter. They could not be more wrong.

There was a time years ago, during those frozen months in Lithuania, in which his captors had been able to keep their fires burning.

Their first goal had always been to simply obtain ransom money and be on their way. Hannibal could remember the glow of campfires then, Mischa asking him when they would be going home. He never had an answer for her.

He remembered killing all the spiders for her in their little den.

Easily frightened as she was, being so young, she sought her older brother when seeing something crawling horribly fast along the wall, or along the floor. Even sitting innocently in the corner, those little creatures frightened her, and thus they were swiftly sent back to whence all things came with a hard PAT.

There had been one that had passed them by, as it turned out. Mischa discovered it sitting in the corner and let out a shrill cry, loud enough that one of their captors had shouted at her for it. Hannibal did swiftly away with the offending arachnid, neither of them knowing what had already taken place before its discovery.

A day came not long after, closer to their freezing days, where Hannibal could remember Mischa growing sniffly. Searching around, he discovered the likely perpetrator: A dust bunny in the corner, aggravating her allergies.

He remembered grabbing it, hoping to remove it from their den.

He could almost forget her hunger pain induced cries when he remembered the way she screamed as hundreds of the spider's babies cascaded over them both. He had very nearly drowned her out with screams of his own that day.

Spiders, for every day since, were associated with exactly one scene in his mind: Fear, death, and the cold.

Arachnophobia, as people seemed to so commonly deem just about any distaste of the horrible little things, always seemed to be the butt of the joke. Something to be mocked for, something pathetic, something weak.

He was not weak.

That being said, he was rather fortunate that the concept never came up to begin with. In their little house, Hannibal had yet to see any of the cursed creatures. The most he’d hear of them were from Will, who would find one on occasion and inform Hannibal that he’d taken it outside, before going on about its species, where it was native to, the patterns of its body, and then inevitably inform Hannibal that he had just, in fact, been bitten by the little rascal.

Hannibal smiled to himself as he went on with his chopping in the kitchen, wondering just how much poor treatment at the hands of an animal Will could withstand. He imagined Will would forgive just about any creature that wasn’t human. Most of all, it was pleasant to be able to find himself unaffected by the knowledge of the arachnid’s presence, for once. Perhaps it could be said that it was because he never actually laid eyes on them.

In the middle of his thoughts, his eyes focused more on the pan he was pouring into than his hands, it seemed that the outer shell of the onion he’d been chopping was touching his hand. Odd, he thought he’d brushed those aside already.

And then it moved, and he glanced at his hand.

--------

Will stepped through the hall, brows furrowed in confusion. He could have sworn he’d heard his name be called, quickly and in a tone he’d never heard Hannibal use before, but he’d received no response when he called back.

“Hannibal?” he called, beginning to head towards the kitchen. “Are you–

Any question he may have had cut off entirely when he stepped into the kitchen, only to see Hannibal perched on the furthest possible counter.

Cowering.

Before he could so much as question him, eyes radiating concern, he spotted movement across the floor between them.

When his eyes locked onto it, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh hey there, little guy,” he cooed as he bent down, scooping the spider off of the floor and into his palms. “What are you doing inside? You’re never inside! Did someone leave the window open, hm? Were you curious?”

He doesn’t notice Hannibal staring at him, his eyes wide, his breathing shallow. 

“Oh, you’re a pretty little guy, aren’t you? Yellow garden spider!” Will declared proudly. “Oh, your stripes are just beautiful…”

Hannibal swallowed hard, willing his voice to not quiver as much as he was sure it would.

“Will.”

Will glanced at him, snapped out of his reverie by the reality of his petrified lover.

“Kill it.”

It was not a request. It was a command.

Will frowned.

“Hannibal, I’m not killing it, you know that,” he argued. “I’m just gonna take it outside.”

Hannibal’s mouth opened to speak, his vocal cords cut off when they were inundated with things he could say. Let it go so it can come back? So it can lay eggs? So it can bring its swarm?

So he’ll be drowned in frightened screams again, no longer knowing which are his own?

Will’s eyes raked over him, his frustration beginning to dissipate.

“Hannibal,” he began, daring to finally ask, “why are you on the counter?”

Hannibal did not answer, his eyes firmly locked on the vile creature in his lover’s hands.

Concern melted back into Will’s look. “Hannibal…” He took a step forward. “It’s not gonna hurt you, see? Look, it’s just–”

As Will held the little beast out, Hannibal flinched.

“Whoa– Okay, okay!” Will said quickly, taking several steps back. “Look, I’ll…I’ll just take it outside, okay? You won’t have to see it again.”

“It’ll come back,” Hannibal said, quiet enough that he was just barely heard. “It’ll come back in hundreds.”

Will stood still, as though searching for a solution. He had never seen Hannibal like this before, not ever. He had never seen Hannibal frightened.

As the creature moved in his hands, he could feel a particular spot beginning to itch. Looking down, he saw a rather familiar two pin pricks in the heel of his palm.

He sighed.

He dropped the spider to the floor.

And he stomped.

He swallowed hard, trying not to audibly gag at the distinct crunch feel beneath his shoe. The quick shattering of the exoskeleton, like tiny tectonic plates forced to shift beneath a great weight. A little world coming to an end.

He lifted his foot, staring down at the curled up remains of the critter he was going to let outside.

Some small agony swelled in his chest, and he looked to Hannibal, the way he always did.

Hannibal was finally breathing again, his face showing nothing but pure relief.

And the agony was gone.

Carrying the spider corpse to the window to give it a good toss outside, the realization dawned on Will that he would do just about anything to never see that fear in that man’s eyes again.

It wasn’t the first time he took a life at Hannibal’s behest that he never thought he’d take.

And Hannibal gazed at him the way he imagined humanity had been gazing at the moon for thousands of years, in silent awe of the beauty he was beholding.

Somewhere deep in his memory palace, a little boy had someone to kill the spiders for him, too.

[04tenno]

6, 12, 20, 23 & 25 for Sawashiro!

CHARACTER ASK GAME!!! 💫

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

I feel like I'd have to make the understatement of the century to make any of my experiences or characteristics sound equivalent to his LMAO but with something like the wiki, I can definitely relate to his frustrations with feeling like people don't pull their own weight or listen to my instructions, and I definitely don't hold back in expressing that. For better and for worse...

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

I guess it's semi-canon because of RGGO, but I like to think he wears perfume. Definitely something floral based on the petals in his heat aura...

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

Arakawa bro this is NOT a QUESTION😭😭😭😭😭I'm certainly curious what his relationships with with various characters will be like in Infinite Wealth, but I don't think he'll ever have what he had with Arakawa again...

23. Favorite picture of this character?

There are a lot of pictures of him I like that actually have his face in the frame (the Tsutsumi bias is UNREAL believe me), but since I have the same brain as @todayisafridaynight (whom most of my followers also follow) and he's posted them a fair few times, I'll take a moment to highlight this particular shot. It always sticks out in my mind on a symbolic level. The way he deliberately bloodies the hand that was clean...

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

I was really thrown off! I loved Sawashiro's character from RGGO and the two couldn't be more different, in both design and and personality. Learning he was a faceclaim cleared up my confusion somewhat, but I was still apprehensive I wouldn't like him as much as I did RGGO's take on his character, since he was tied with Mine for my favorite main antagonist at the time. Although he's not exactly in the running for that particular title given he isn't a final-boss-level antagonist, he is now absolutely one of my favorite characters in the franchise to date.

In terms of how my impressions evolved throughout my experience of the game, that's a little harder to track. I believe RGGS were doing playthroughs of most of Chapter 1 up to Jo's final scene in that chapter, which is all it took for me to look forward to the rest. It should be noted I specifically watched the Japanese version when it came out, about a year prior to its Western release.

I think I'd seen his second boss fight's dynamic intro/transitions prior to actually getting to that point, I believe, and Well. They Were Sexy. What can I say... Unfortunately, something else I'd seen (been told against my will, rather) before that point was the plot twist, but it does speak to the writing and execution that despite this and the fact I thought his abusive background with his father was a little hokey at the time (<- WRONG), the combination of Coin Locker Baby (the entire chapter) as well as his "scene" in the epilogue solidified him as a favorite. Even before then, I found it intriguing to note things like his deference to authority and the lore conveyed through his battles themselves and to compare and contrast him with how RGGO's Sawashiro was executed.

I couldn't honestly say who I prefer between RGGO or YLAD's Sawashiros even at the time. If nothing else, I fully believe they're both the kinds of characters who get better and better the more you revisit and discuss them--I changed my mind on Sawashiro's abusive background just from seeing how well it ties in to his scenes with the rest of the Arakawa family unit, for example. Talking to Snap very much rekindled my love for him as well, and I'm super excited to see him back in Infinite Wealth!

[disneyanddisneyships]

Hear me out-

It's before Alaponi are dating, but Al's just figured out hes inlove with Aponi, and as usual, aponi fell first so shes also inlove with him

Like he's just doing his fun little "stalking Aponi" time AS PER USUAL. Aponi just went out from a small club after work and earning money ig.

And then this random demon dude starts hitting on her and no matter how much she tries to sass him he wouldnt go away

And then when 'Poni gets frustrated about it, this deer boi comes in the picture

And hes like, "I'm sorry, but I'd prefer you step aside from my girlfriend." and the 'girlfriend' part is in non-static.

Note, they're NOT dating (yet)

She plays along, demon runs away. They have an akward walk on the way to the hotel

.... I gotta write it

Alastor x OC au

Aponi groaned as she stretched.

Turning off her phone and grabbing her bag she walked out of her dressing room.

God was it a hard night. Aponi had worked her thighs so hard that they would definitely be burning in the morning.

Aponi walked tall. Hell was a lot like a more intense New York mixed with LA. you had to show confidence, act like it would be difficult to take you down.

Of course the 7 inch heels Aponi was wearing helped in her struggle with that.

Aponi rolled her eyes as she walked.

Demons from all over looked, gawked, and whistled at her.

But one demon started following her.

She held her breath as she took out mace from her bag, discreetly.

"Hey pretty lady," the demon spoke with a smirk as he stepped in front of her.

"Hey ugly man," Aponi countered.

"Oh don't be so mean, baby! Not a lot of guys down here like that!" The demon replied.

"And not a lot of girls like you either. Yet you still try," Aponi stated before trying to push passed him, only to be stopped by his hand grabbing her arm. "Let go of me," Aponi warned as she held the mace in her hand tightly.

The demon pinned her against the wall. "Oh just bee a good girl and stop talking," he muttered.

Aponi kicked him in the nuts before making a move to run away, only for the demon to trip her. The demon moved to be on top of her.

Her eyes widened at the flashbacks she was having from her life.

"Youre a fighter," he muttered. "I like that," he smirked.

As fast as lightning, their surroundings glitched in a shade of red and black.

Alastor showed up.

"Back off! Can't you see were having some private time?!" The demon shouted only to be startled off of Aponi when alastor's full demon form made itself known.

"I'm sorry. I'd prefer you step away from my girlfriend," Alastor stated, his words glitching.... well... all but one.

Aponi was taken aback, but she didn't have any time to think about it.

She stood up and went to hide behind alastor.

"Hey, sorry man. I's just havin some fun," the demon stated as he backed off, trying his best to keep the little amount of self respect he had left.

As the demon walked away, Alastor's form morphed back into the one Aponi was used to.

"Shall I walk you home, my dear?" Alastor asked.

Aponi gave a small smile before nodding, and hooking her arm through his.

The two walked back to the hotel in silence.

Every demon that looked at Aponi ran away as alastor gave them a scary glare.

"I'd like to thank you... for saving me," Aponi spoke, drawing Alastor's full attention.

"Oh darling, of course!" Alastor exclaimed.

"Um.... Alastor?" Aponi asked.

"Yes, my dear?"

"You called me your girlfriend...." Aponi muttered.

"Ah yes! Merely a way to get that nasty bootlicker off of you!" Alastor spoke, attempting to hide the small blush creeping on his face.

"Oh!.... right....." Aponi replied, her smile fading a small amount.

"I still don't understand why you work for that lowlife," Alastor spoke.

"Who, Valentino? Eh he's harmless. Sure I have some bruises but they heal over fairly quickly," Aponi stated.

"'Bruises'?" Alastor asked, his voice glitching out.

"Well... yeah.... don't know if you've noticed, but he's not a very good guy. Angel has it worse though.... but we're under contract. I can't do anything about it," aponi explained.

".... I could," Alastor whispered.

"What was that?" Aponi asked.

"Oh! Uh.... I wish you could," Alastor stated.

The two walked up the steps of the hotel.

"Well uh.... I should get to sleep...." Aponi muttered.

"Yes! Right! You should-"

Alastor's yes widened at the kiss Aponi planted on his cheek before scurrying into the hotel and up to her room.

Alastor stood there on the steps, feeling like he could take over heaven.

[azumasoroshi]

minidura chapter 6 react

oh please let this chapter be celty and shizuo focused i love the besties

i think they should hang out and play smash bros and talk in sign language and terrorize gangs together

awww :(((

although him smoking reminds me of this one scene from omniscient reader's viewpoint where joonghyuk stares out a window dramatically trying to appear cool when he's actually super embarrassed

people are also more likely to smoke when they're upset because they feel like it helps them calm down

shizuo 🥺

ohhh he doesnt have the chibi and the usual 'normally this size, now this size!' thing :( this chapter probably wont be that sad because it's literally a gag series but still. not getting the greatest vibes

shinra step aside celty is my wife now

she's so sweetttttt ughhhhhhh

but yeah uh. there IS a reason they're afraid of him

i just had the horrible idea of 'what if they ran a shizuo campaign that just gave speeches about what a nice guy shizuo is' and that devolved into 'signing shizuo up to run for president' even though japan has a prime minister not a president

yk what fuck it SHIZUO FOR PRESIDENT LETS GO BABY

oh. suddenly im worried. shizuo's reputation is probably gonna come out of this even worse than it was before

THEY'RE SO TINY

celty is a horrendous actor godbless

crying. this isnt gonna go well

heiwajima shizuo serial old lady helper

i dont know how this is gonna go wrong but it's definitely gonna go wrong

is she gonna like. run from him or something?? or maybe izaya appears and shizuo just throws the package at him

LMFAOOOOOOOOOO

was NOT expecting that

i keep forgetting i havent published my post about isekai shizuo but like. the truck instinct to just ram into shizuo no matter the circumstances is hilarious actually. he beckons them to him with his shizu mating call

HE'S HELPING!!!! i dont know what the citizens are so scared of smh

shizuo asking 'what's next' obliviously like he's enjoying helping 😭my beloveddddd

how the hell can he mess up saving a puppy though. like. there's no way

I CACKLED OUT LOUD

THERE IS A WAY

SHIZUJESUS LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOO

HE'S HELPING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this is so sad actually like he's only done good things!!! he's been using his strength for good!!! man

oh lets go!!! actually why wasnt shizuo able to find a job as a construction worker or mover 😭 i assume something with izaya but still. he's so overqualified

awwwww it's working out!!!!!

AWWWWWWW

WHAT THE FUCK

thats actually nightmare fuel jesus christ asdjkhGKJSgd

shizuo looked so touched at the beginning too 😭leave it to izaya to ruin everything

was izaya the old lady at the beginning too?? did he hire the truck driver (again) to hit shizuo?? or does he just have a picture perfect costume of the old lady from before down to the wrinkle because ?????????

he probably wasnt at the beginning because all the stuff with helping people happened in one day and there's no way izaya could come all the way to ikebukuro to be the first person they tried to help or even know to come PLUS the lady actually looked shocked but. idk man izaya is unhinged when it comes to trolling shizu-chan so you never really know with him

i imagine his voice changed from old lady impersonation to regular smarmy izaya voice in the 'you know' too which is so. evil

although it does make me question how good his old lady impersonation is and why he can do one??

plus he said 'i dont crossdress' in that one ova but that has now been proven to be a lie! diversity win!! the cringe information broker from shinjuku crossdresses as old grandmas sometimes!!!

MAN

i had hope there for a second but this is in line with canon so 😔no change can actually happen hhhhhh

izaya jumpscare/10 chapter

[muchamusedaboutnothing]

Heart of a Hunter Act VII - Ch. 16

Heart of a Hunter Act VII - Ch. 16

Characters: Dean x doctor!Reader, Sam Winchester

This story is Act 7 of a saga.

New to the story? Get caught up on the Heart of a Hunter Saga here.

All your favorite Winchesters are alive, in spite of the curse that nearly took them from you. After coming so close to losing the only family you have left in this world, you’re taking matters into your own hands. There’s a witch to hunt.

Series Warnings:

Character injuries/sickness - Take note that no one is excluded from this.

Canon-typical violence and language.

Lots of whump.

Lots of caring for hurt characters.

Smut (18 Only. NSFW. You were warned.)

Angst.

Fluff.

Medical talk. Is that even a warning

Image Credit: bing image search, google image search, @lucbian , @jensenandtheboys , @out-in-the-open , @justjensenanddean ,

Wordcount: 1786

Chapter  16

It took some convincing the next morning as Dean helped you change your bandages before he agreed you could try to drive home. You took some Tylenol and pulled on another of his t-shirts for a looser fit, along with some scrub bottoms you often slept in.

He insisted on hauling everything out to the vehicles himself and made you promise that the two of you would make several stops along the way to get out and stretch and reassess in case you were tired or sore.

You suspected he knew nothing was going to keep you from getting home to your baby boy, but you humored him by agreeing to his terms before hitting the road.

You drove the truck while Dean followed behind you in the Impala. An hour into the drive you pulled over for some breakfast and coffee at a quaint little diner. Halfway through the meal, you got a series of photos in a text from Addie as she and Sam took Jonah for a walk in his stroller. You and Dean scrolled through the pictures together.

"I'm glad they're getting some fresh air," you said. "They've been so cooped up."

"Yeah. They're good kids," Dean said. "All three of them."

He grinned and took a sip of his coffee.

The rest of the drive was painstakingly long, mostly just because you were so anxious for it to be over with. You made one more stop at a rest area because Dean insisted you get out and stretch your legs.

You tried not to be the stereotypical terrible doctor-patient and did as he suggested, knowing it would definitely decrease your chances of a blood clot developing and help prevent your leg from getting stiff after all the trauma you'd endured. You almost instantly regretted admitting it to him when you saw his haughty smirk.

"God, you're going to be insufferable until I get all healed up, aren't you?"

Dean shrugged, still smirking. "You know it, sweetheart."

Pulling into the bunker’s garage felt as healing that day as it had been the first time you’d done it when you’d moved into the bunker with Sam and Dean all those years ago. You parked the truck and Dean pulled the Impala in behind you.

“I’ll get your bags and stuff in a little bit. Let’s just get you inside,” Dean told you as he came around to take your hand in his and walk with you.

You found Addie and Sam in the mess hall, and they both jumped to their feet when they heard you approaching.

“Hey!” Sam said, eyes looking you over to make sure you were really in one piece. “You made it!” He bent down to wrap his arms around you, giving you an affectionate squeeze that was less tight and squishy than usual, a sign that he was still worried about any injuries you’d sustained.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Addie said, stepping up to hug you and Dean both when Sam gave her room. Addie pulled the baby monitor from her back pocket. “Jonah’s still napping, but he could be getting up any minute unless you want to go get him.”

“We’ll let him sleep,” you said, though your heart was aching so bad to hold him it physically hurt. You knew better than to wake a napping baby.

“That’ll give us a few minutes to change your bandages,” Dean said.

“How - how bad is it?” Sam asked, eyeing you in concern again.

“I’ve had worse,” you answered vaguely.

“Thank you for holding down the fort, you two,” Dean said to Sam and Addie.

"Yes, thank you," you said echoing the sentiment. "Knowing Jonah was safe here … I can't tell you what that meant to me. To both of us."

“Don’t mention it,” Addie assured you both with a smile. “We’re just glad you got the witch."

“Exactly,” Sam agreed.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Dean put a hand on the small of your back. “Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

Addie shifted on her feet anxiously. “Can - can we help?”

“You can come,” you told her with a smile. “We can fill you in on what you missed.”

Sam and Addie fell into step behind you as you walked with a slight limp down the hall with Dean at your side.

“Where are you hurt?” Sam asked as you sat down on the exam table.

Dean grabbed you a sheet to use for cover if you wanted as you pulled your scrub bottoms down to your knees so Dean could look at your thigh.

Hunting wounds had never afforded you much in the way of modesty and you opted out of trying to awkwardly cover up with the sheet. You sat in your t-shirt and underwear instead as Dean removed the bandage. The wound looked just as you'd hoped it would without any obvious signs of infection.

Sam, who had instantly gone into protective-brother mode the minute you'd arrived home, moved in closer to take a better look. "Is that a gunshot wound?" he asked, jaw clenching.

".380," Dean said as he went to the cupboard to get some gloves and supplies.

"A demon shot you?" Addie asked, horrified.

You shook your head. "Not exactly…."

Addie blinked, perplexed. "The witch?"

"Your backup weapon is a .380," Sam said slowly. "What happened?"

"She used a spell to deflect a round and it ricocheted and caught me," you said regretfully. "It'll heal."

"What happened here?" Sam asked, pointing to your waist.

"That was a blade," you admitted. "It's superficial. As long as it doesn't get infected, it'll be fine."

"How - how many demons?" Addie asked.

Dean pulled up a rolling stool to situate himself and set to work re-bandaging your thigh.

"Four in all," you said in answer to Addie's question.

Addie's eyes were wide with horror and you reached out a hand to her which she squeezed in a gesture of support. "You fought off four demons? Alone?"

"Well, not all at once. They mostly did me the courtesy of showing up one or two at a time. And one of them sort of took himself out of the picture."

Dean paused long enough to look up at you then, green eyes locking onto yours. You leaned down far enough to leave a gentle kiss on his forehead to reassure him you were really okay.

"Don't sell yourself short, sweetheart," Dean said as he returned to dressing your thigh. "You kicked ass back there."

He’d just finished putting a new bandage on the laceration on your waist when you heard Jonah's little cooing from the baby monitor. Your face lit up at the sound and Addie laughed and handed the monitor to you.

“Go get him, Mama,” she said with a grin.

It was all you could do not to run down the hall to him. Dean went with you, helping you to walk faster in spite of your limp, and you opened the nursery door and went to Jonah's crib. He was lying there in a little onesie, happy as could be after his nap. You bent at the waist to gather your son in your arms, bringing him to your chest to snuggle him.

"There's my sweet boy," you said, feeling the sting of happy tears in your eyes as you kissed his cheek. "Mommy missed you so much."

Holding him in your arms again was all you needed. It was like the final confirmation that the nightmare was over and everyone was safe.

Dean stood at your side, hand resting on your lower back as you gently bounced Jonah in your arms. Tears fell freely from your eyes then. You didn't even try to stop them. It was as if your body needed the release after all the pent-up frustration and fear and anguish.

"It's finally over," you said to Dean, knowing he'd understand exactly what you meant.

"Thanks to you, sweetheart," he said, a soft smile playing on his lips.

He took a step even closer then, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you and Jonah into his embrace. "How'd I get so god-damned lucky, huh?" He pressed a kiss to your hair and you leaned your head into the crook of his shoulder.

“Did you get bigger on me, little man?” you said to the baby, holding him out just far enough to get a better look at him.

“Just might have,” Dean said with a grin, brushing his fingers gently over Jonah’s hair. “He’s going to get a whole lot bigger.”

“I know I should be happy about that,” you said, wiping at your eyes with the shoulder of your shirt. “But I just want to enjoy him while he’s little enough to hold. With the Winchester genes, God knows that won’t last long.”

Dean chuckled and watched you snuggle Jonah. “I’m going to go get our bags from the garage. Then what do you say we make up for lost time with the munchkin?”

You nodded up at him. “Sounds great. I’ll make him a bottle.”

“Okay. Be right back.” Dean left you in the nursery and you bounced Jonah in your arms for a moment longer, admiring the way every ounce of decor in the little cowboy-themed nursery just screamed Dean. You smiled so wide your face hurt.

It was good to be home.

Dean found you and Addie and Sam in the mess hall after he finished. “Anyone up for lunch yet?” he asked.

“Yeah, actually,” you said from the table where you were sitting and holding Jonah.

Sam brought over a freshly made bottle of formula to you after having insisted you sit and rest while he mix it up.

“What sounds good?” Dean asked. “I’ll make whatever you want.”

“Honestly, I’m craving a BLT,” you answered.

“Yeah?” Dean grinned, eying Addie and Sam next. “All in?”

“BLT’s it is,” Addie said with a nod.

Twenty minutes later Dean had enough bacon fried for everyone to start making their sandwiches. Except for yours, which he insisted on making himself. He brought it over to you on a plate, along with a beer.

“Here,” he said. “You’ve earned it.”

You grinned up at him. “You know what? I have.”

He clapped his hands twice and held out his arms for you to hand over Jonah. Then he sat across from you at the table and doted on Jonah while you devoured the sandwich and sipped a beer.

Addie and Sam sat at the table, too, and you all enjoyed lunch together. You soaked it all up like a sponge. The relief. The joy. The family time. It was all you wanted.

It was everything you'd fought for.

***********************************************************************

Act VII Masterlist.

You can find the Masterlist for the Heart of a Hunter Saga here.

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