Family Wrath
( Implied SA, not actually SA, POV outsider misunderstandings )
Okay I want all the misunderstandings!
Misunderstandings galore my beloved!
Anyway!
For this intrusive thought that decided to hit me as I was minding my own business-
Danny is the baby that Stephanie gave into adoption when she was young.
Obvi trans Danny,
So after Stephanie realizes just who Danny is she investigates (You can't escape the Bat paranoia training)
But here are the misunderstandings: Ellie and Dante (de-aged)
" Oh my God guys I'm a grandmother! "
But wait there's more!
Danny is how old?! With kids, that are very much not newborns?
" So who's the dad? "
" Oh some fruit-loop named Vlad, he was obsessed with my mom when they went to college together but she wasn't interested at all & now he's obsessed with me. He really wanted the 'perfect' son but I told him to fuck off not that he cared about what I wanted. So yeah, sorry for rambling-are you okay you look a little pale, is the heat bothering you? "
Danny forgets that peoples first thoughts aren't " Oh yea clone! " Or timeline shenanigans
So what these concerned people heard was " Yea this adult man wanted my mom and when he saw that that wasn't an option he targeted me as a child "
Dante & Ellie are just enjoying the show intentionally creating more misunderstandings and havoc, they hope someone will finally go beat Vlad since they're now too small to beat him.
~
Dante: " Momma practically died when I was born. "
Ellie: "Yea I almost killed him too! "
They're technically not lying just using what actually happened in a different context
~
Alfred after hearing what's going on grabbing his shotgun: " I still have good aim."
~
Jason/Stephanie: " A little murder is fine, as a treat "
~
Just more and more misunderstandings happening around Danny with him being none the wiser.
~
Feel free to add to my nonsense, I love it, it's fun to read what people come up with
~
Just an (Intrusive) Idea
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Violet Eyes, Red
Pairing:
rhysand x reader (pretty sure it's gender neutral - there might be a "she" i missed while referring to you from the original draft bc second person pov is not how i write)
Summary:
you and your mate reunite after feyre defeats amarantha and this is the fallout of what the bitch did to him.
Warnings:
aftermath of SA - i can't really tell if it's graphic which tells me it is, loose description of a panic attack, PTSD, please let me know if I missed anything. guys, please, if these topics are triggering for you, don't read this fic. i am not responsible for your media consumption, but i also don't want to throw you headfirst into your trauma.
Word Count:
2,140
A/N:
literally broke my own damn heart with this one. rhys' trauma is so ignored and that needed to be rectified. rhys might be my second favorite bat boy, but he's still a lil baby who needs to be protected
The human girl had beaten her - the woman of his nightmares - once and for all. At the first moment he could, Rhysand winnowed. After fifty years, he knew there was only one place he could go. After all, it was the last Sunday of the month, and that Sunday was the day he and his mate reserved just for themselves. The High Lord and Lady would not conduct any business on that day.
You'd spend most of your day on the balcony. You'd serenade him with the piano. You'd fly around Velaris - creating patterns in the air. You'd cradle each other in your arms. He'd sketch out a new drawing - trying and failing, in his opinion, to encapsulate your true beauty.
One day, he broke that promise, that vow you had made, and went to what he thought was a simple trade meeting. That morning was the last day he saw you, and he still couldn't live with himself.
Those memories alone kept him breathing at times. When Amarantha stole his bed, his body, his hope.
Then the human girl showed up, and he tried to help her. Wanted to give her what she needed to beat the beast he didn't think he'd ever escape. But he had lost the will to pray for it. To the cauldron, to the Mother Above. Despite his pessimism, she persevered. The girl had won. And then he was free.
He was on the balcony before he could even think about it. After a quick glance around, he realized it was empty. At first, he felt a pulse of disappointment, but with the realization of how long it'd been, he breathed deeply. How could he expect you to keep up the tradition? Fifty years of solitude on those Sundays would have made him mad if your roles were reversed.
At the thought, he allowed himself to feel the mating bond. It had gone cold the moment he winnowed away all those years ago, but now it was as beautiful as he remembered. The pull of another person at the end of a tether, forever binding them in the purest forms of fate.
But he heard your thoughts, and he almost broke down in sobs at the sound of your voice in his head. Please come home, my love. I don't know how to do this anymore. Please. The last word, you were begging. Your inner voice, the one he had to get used to living without, was broken. Pleading for him to return - despite everything you'd probably heard.
And with that, he took action, winnowing to every room in the house so he would find you as soon as possible. He knew you were close; your scent wasn't stale. It was fresh, clinging to every piece of furniture you owned together.
It was the last room he checked, his office, where he found you. You sat in his desk chair; the leather more worn than he remembered. But the sight of you stopped him from rushing to you. Nursing a bottle of wine, you slouched on your elbows, hands in your hair, as more thoughts streamed through the bond.
I'm losing myself, Rhys. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I can't let myself believe you won't come back because that- that will ruin me. What she's doing to you, what she's making you do. I don't even know a fraction of it, but I can't stop it. I- I can't protect you. And I hate myself for it.
He was watching you as you sent the words down the bond, the bond that had been desolate for half a century. You run your hands down your face, not looking up from your wine, the third of many you planned to drown in.
Just get through it. Please just- just survive. Do what you have to do to come home. I'll be here. I love you. My mate.
You'd only allowed yourself to talk to him once a month. Initially, you would try to send him something every day. Thoughts, images, songs you'd learned, prayers for him. You never heard anything back, and it slowly started eating away at you. It shattered your hope every time you didn't get a response.
You'd heard the rumors, Amarantha's whore, he'd been called. Every time you heard it, it ate away at you more and more. As if he would choose that - choose to warm the bed of another when you were waiting for him at home. You knew him better than that, and you winced at the thought. He wouldn't choose it, but would she force him? Was she that much of a monster?
You had to shake that thought away for the thousandth time that night, downing the rest of the glass. As you reach for the bottle, nearly empty at that point, a hand wraps around your wrist. The touch is gentle but firm - stopping you from drinking more, but not rough enough to hurt. Instead of startling at it, the wine slows your instincts. You can only stare. The tattoos on the dorsal side interweave into vines under the sleeve. Vines you know, vines that you've held, vines that have and will continue to have free rein of your body.
Faster than you thought you were capable of, your eyes flew to its owner's eyes. Violet. The most ravishing violet. Violet you'd feared you were forgetting.
With a new urgency, you pulled yourself to your feet, your hands flying up to his face without thinking. One on his cheek, the other on his neck, pushing, pulling, grabbing, unsure if it was your mind playing tricks on you.
In your desperate touch, you missed the way he flinched.
His hands. Mother Above, his beautiful hands were on your neck too, placed at the sides. When your mind would play you for a fool, it would never let you touch him, let alone allow him to reach you. But there he was, and you could feel him. You tugged at the bond, finally noticing it was warm and delicate and sweet and serene and everything you wished you knew how to describe.
He breathed your name, barely a whisper. "I'm home, my darling. I'm home."
"You're here." The words barely escaped you, and you couldn't stop the tears. He didn't hesitate a moment, pulling you in for a frustratingly rare and fierce embrace. You clung to each other for dear life, tighter and tighter and tighter, like he'd disappear if you let him go. Frankly, you weren't convinced he wouldn't. "You're really here."
You stood like that for a while, holding each other, when he ultimately pulled away first. "Rh-Rhys, don't go-"
"I'm not," he promised, his voice raw, kissing your forehead. He took in every inch of your face. "I just wanted to look at you. My mate."
Since Rhys had been freed by the human girl, nothing had been normal. Not that you expected it to be, but you didn't anticipate just how awful a recovery for him would be. He couldn't share your bed, and you didn't mean that in a sexual manner. He couldn't sleep with anyone else in his room - if he had even been sleeping at all. He could barely stand to be touched. You knew he wanted to be able to let you, but every time you seemed to blink, he would flinch.
You had suspicions about what went on under the mountain, but you had no idea it would be so evil.
He stood before a cabinet, staring blankly into it, lost in a memory - a memory he'd been refusing to share. You understood why, but something in you told you that you needed to see. Not just for curiosity's sake but to know how to help him. Even if it was past your pay grade.
"Rhys," You called quietly for the second time. You didn't want to touch him, shock him back to reality. The fear of that setting him off more held you back. With a harsh and sudden breath, he fearfully glanced at you and around the room, forgetting where he was for a moment. "You're at home, Rhys. You came home."
"I'm sorry," He rasped, ignoring your words. His hands pulled at his hair, and you were nervous he'd start ripping it out. He backed away from you, so far away he was caught by the wall. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Your own formed at the sight of his tears, but you couldn't conjure up what he'd have to apologize for. "It's okay, honey, you're safe. It's okay."
"I didn't- I didn't want it. I swear on my life, I didn't want to."
You shook your head, not understanding. But you knew asking what he was apologizing for was the wrong thing to do. You could see it, the shame, the regret, the blame. "I know you didn't."
He squeezed his eyes shut, buried his face in his hands, and sank to the floor. He kept murmuring apologies, pleading for your forgiveness. "I betrayed you, you have to- you have to leave me."
His words shocked you, and now you were the one that flinched. "Rhysand, look at me." He visibly shrunk at the command, pulling his hands away from his face. "As far as I'm concerned, anything that happened...there...is the furthest thing from your fault. I know there are things you can't tell me, and that's okay. I'll be here when you're ready-"
"I can't!" He bellowed. "You'll never forgive-"
"Show me the memory." You demanded, your voice quiet but assertive. But you wouldn't push too hard if he was adamant about keeping you out. You knew. You knew. Based on the way he had been acting, what had happened. But you also knew he needed to show you. So someone, fucking someone, would tell him it was out of his control. He couldn't govern everything, even if he was the High Lord of the Night Court. The words hurt as they left your lips. "Because I can promise you that I will."
You weren't a daemati, but you could see him battling with himself. Debating, if showing you what really happened, would bury him deeper under the surface or pull him back up for air.
Eventually, he released a rare sob and a barely audible "Okay."
He showed you the first time, how he just laid there like a statue as her hands took everything for herself. Then, the fifth time, when she started demanding he respond, pretend he wanted it. Then, the eleventh time, when his body started reacting. Then, by the next time, he had stopped keeping count.
He showed you, whether he meant to or not, how he prayed for it to end, prayed for someone to rescue him.
How he had been praying for you.
With the confirmation of your theory, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back the tears. The angry tears, wishing you could've been the one to rip her throat out. Tears that enraged you because that was not Tamlin's kill. Furious tears because that wasn't even your kill. Devastating tears because your mate not only had to play a character for so long, but he had to endure being called her whore. Like he had any fucking say.
Overwhelming tears because your mate was in pain and there was shit all you could do about it.
"Can I touch you?" The question shocks him, but he nods without thinking, confused at the request. You slowly lift your hands to his cheeks, brushing away his tears with your thumbs. "There is nothing for me to forgive you for. I know you didn't want to do any of it."
"But I-"
"Bodies respond to stimulation whether it's wanted or not. It's how we work." You explained slowly and carefully, keeping direct eye contact. "You forget, sweetheart. I can hear your thoughts when you show me a memory."
"I've-" His voice caught, putting his hands on your wrists, rubbing them up and down your arms until they got hot. "I've been so scared. That it's still happening. That all of this is going to go away, that she's not really gone, that I'm not really here, and this is just another tactic-"
You shake your head, finally pulling yourself together to say what you've wanted to say for weeks. "I swear on my life that I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. I will spend eternity protecting you from her and anyone like her. And if you forget that this is real, just ask me. I'll tell you."
His eyes darted between yours, furiously blinking. Violet eyes, red. Pleading craving begging praying.
"Is it?"
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Could you do Val x reader headcanons, maybe cuddling with Val?
Pairing: Valentino x afab!reader
Relationship: between FWB and established
Genre: fluff
Format: Headcanons
Warnings: mentions of sex and NSFW topics. Put simply, there will be some suggestive content, but it’s not explicitly NSFW
Word count: 372
With Valentino being Valentino, he isn’t usually the type of person to like to cuddle with anyone
Val is more into sexual intimacy than cute, loving acts of affection
But when you are able to get him to cuddle, he’d be really grumpy about it at first, but after a few minutes he’s just the sweetest little cuddle bug 🥰
Especially when you’re alone. That’s when he’s most likely to give in. Even with just the other Vee’s in the room, he’s going to keep putting on the “I’m only interested in sex” act.
Unless he’s somehow feeling extra vulnerable for your love and affection.
Velvette probably has at least one video she took of Val cuddling with you without anything sexual going on, including dirty jokes.
Val’s cuddles are surprisingly warm and comforting. It’s like a drug, and you just can’t get enough.
My personal favorite headcanon, is that Val smells like strawberries (sometimes chocolate, sometimes normal) because it fits the “charming” and “romantic” aura that Valentino is said to give off in the show.
And this leads me to believe his cuddles—and just presence in general—is even more addicting.
One night specifically it was such a hard day for you and you really were not in the mood for sex at all, so you fell asleep in each other’s arms and you two were just so comfortable in each other’s presence that you wouldn’t get out of bed and Vox had to run in and wake Val up, only to see you two tangled up together in the bed get your head out of the gutter
So now of course, Val is going to be teased about it because he was caught by both of the other Vee’s, but eventually he’ll get used to it.
And finally, because Val is busy and still into sex more than genuine caring love and affection, cuddling with him is very rare (probably once every 3-6 months), and you’ve learned to just enjoy the moment while it lasts and savor being under his touch because you know that he’s going to go back to being your normal pimp Valentino in just a few seconds.
Blink, and you might miss the affectionate side of Valentino.
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