Thinking about Jefferson's bondage kink. He always makes sure to wear a scarf that'll match your underwear/lingerie so that it doesn't clash when it's wrapped around your wrists.
- Zombie
And he has an uncanny ability—like a sixth sense. Knowing what you’re wearing without even seeing you. And you try. So hard. To catch him out when you’re selecting your lingerie for a date.
Yet you never do. Walking out your door to see his matching necktie and a mischievous smile on his face.
It’s an easy defeat to accept. Knowing how much he’ll sing your praises once he has you anchored to the headboard. And he smiles so wide when he has you writhing beneath him. Tugging at the scarf so carefully tied around your wrists. Looking up at him with that face of yours, on the precipice of ruin. What a sight.
Hoo boy. I’m gonna need to keep thinking about this for a while. 😮💨
Pairing: Jester!Jefferson x Princess!Female Reader
Warnings: Dark fairytale court vibes, captivity themes, implied cruelty, tension
Words: 300 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles I have been thinking on these two for a while.. so happy to have something down!!!
Prompt: June 3rd - “And he shows them pearly white.”
“Bring out the jester.”
The words rolled from your father’s mouth, rich with wine, your fingers tightened around the stem of your goblet.
Already, the court began to stir.
Lords shifted forward. Ladies hid smiles behind jeweled hands. Somewhere down the table, a man chuckled before there was anything to laugh at.
You stared at your plate, dreading what came next.
Him.
The side doors opened. Jefferson tumbled out in a flash of motley silk, bells snapping bright at his wrists. He landed in a low bow, one hand pressed dramatically to his heart.
“My king,” he lifted his head just enough for dark curls to fall from his face. “I rushed here the moment I heard the room had grown dull. Naturally, I assumed someone had begun discussing taxes.”
Laughter burst around the hall.
Your father laughed loudest.
Jefferson sprang upright, light and quick as a thrown knife. Plucking an apple from a passing servant’s tray, tossed it high, catching it between his teeth.
The court roared. Jefferson smiled around the fruit.
And he showed them pearly white.
Your stomach tightened.
They saw a fool. A trick. A pretty captive trained to amuse them between courses. You saw the stretch of that grin. Too sharp. Too full of teeth. A tiger in silk, baring warning after warning while everyone praised the shine of his cage.
Jefferson bit into the apple with a wet crack, juice sliding down his wrist. His eyes swept the hall as he chewed, passing over flushed faces.
Then he looked at you. the smile did not soften.
Something stirred beneath your ribs, dangerous and nameless, as though some foolish part of you had heard the growl and stepped closer anyway.
Anonymous asked: Hi!! Please could I maybe make a Jefferson request? That guyliner I will just never get over 😍😍 Jefferson hates it when people aren’t honest in their lives and the more you try to play it cool and pretend you don’t have a huge crush on him, the more determined he is to push your buttons until you stop lying to yourself and him!
Summary: Jefferson hates liars. And he was going to force the truth out of you one way or another. [Ao3] [wc 574]
Warnings: vampire au (though its not stated, it's intended to be), angst?
“You don’t have to hover, you know,” you say lightly, not looking at him as you busy your hands with something meaningless on the table.
“I’m not hovering,” Jefferson replies, voice smooth as silk, right behind you.
You freeze—just for a fraction of a second. He notices. Of course he does.
“Then what would you call it?” you shoot back, forcing a small laugh, stepping away from him like it doesn’t matter. Like he doesn’t make your pulse trip over itself.
“A study,” he says simply.
That makes you turn. “A study?” you repeat, brows knitting.
His lips twitch. “Mm. Human behavior is fascinating. Especially when it contradicts itself.”
Your stomach drops—but you roll your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re dishonest.”
It lands sharper than you expect. You blink. “Excuse me?”
Jefferson steps closer—not rushed, not aggressive. Deliberate. Measured. Like he’s closing the distance in a game he’s already winning. “You pretend indifference,” he continues softly, eyes locked onto yours, “while your body betrays you at every turn.”
You scoff, but it’s weaker now. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” He reaches out—not touching you, just hovering his hand near yours—and you react. Your fingers twitch. Your breath hitches. He sees it. God, he sees everything. “You lean toward me,” he murmurs. “You look for me in every room. You get flustered when I stand too close—”
“I do not—”
“—and yet,” he cuts in, voice dipping, “you insist on pretending you feel nothing.”
Heat crawls up your neck. “Maybe I just don’t like you.”
That does it. Something flashes in his expression—amusement, yes, but something deeper. Sharper. Like you’ve just said the most interesting lie of all. Jefferson steps in closer—this time really close. Close enough that you can feel his breath. “Say it again,” he challenges quietly.
Your heart is pounding now, traitorous and loud. “I don’t like you.”
He tilts his head, studying you like a cracked mirror. “Then why,” he says, voice dropping to something almost dangerous, “do you look at me like I’m the only thing in the room?”
You open your mouth. Nothing comes out.
He smiles—slow, satisfied, relentless. “There it is,” he whispers.
Your composure slips. Just a little.
And he pounces. Not physically—but with that infuriating, knowing presence.
“You hate dishonesty, don’t you?” you try weakly, clinging to anything.
“I do,” he agrees easily.
“Then stop twisting things—”
“I’m not twisting anything.” His voice sharpens just enough to cut through you. “I’m waiting.”
“For what?”
“For you,” he says, eyes dark and unyielding, “to stop lying.”
Silence stretches. Heavy. Charged. You could still back out. Laugh it off. Walk away. But he’s watching you like he already knows you won’t. Like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. And damn him, he’s right. Your voice comes out quieter than you meant it to. “…you’re insufferable.”
His smile widens. “Not a denial.”
You swallow hard. “…you make it impossible to think straight.”
That gets him. Something shifts—something warmer beneath the teasing cruelty.
He steps just a fraction closer. “And yet,” he murmurs, “you keep trying to pretend you don’t feel anything at all.”
Your chest tightens. “…I didn’t say that.”
“No,” Jefferson says softly, eyes flicking to your lips for just a second, “but you’re finally getting close to the truth.”
And the worst part? He looks pleased about it. Like unraveling you was the goal all along.
Summary: you get caught in the rain and find refuge in the old dwelling on the outskirts of town. [WC 659] [Ao3]
Warnings: Vampire!Jefferson, angst
A/N: it's been FOREVER since i wrote my beloved vampire au with Jefferson <3
The townspeople say the old house at the edge of the forest is cursed. They say the man who lives there doesn’t age. They say if you walk the forest path at night, you’ll hear the creak of a door… and a voice asking you to stay. You never believed them. Until the night you knocked.
Rain hammered against the crooked roof as you stood on the porch, shivering in your soaked coat. The woods behind you were too dark now to walk back through. Too quiet. Lightning flashed.
The door swung open before you could knock again. And there he stood. Jefferson looked exactly like the stories described—tall, pale, dark curls falling into sharp eyes that gleamed strangely in the candlelight. His clothes were old-fashioned, black vest and white shirt, sleeves rolled up like he’d been working.
Like he’d been expecting you.
His gaze swept over you slowly. “Lost?” he asked softly. His voice was velvet.
You swallowed. “The storm came out of nowhere. I just needed somewhere to wait it out.”
Jefferson tilted his head. Studying. Calculating. Then he stepped aside. “Come in.”
The house smelled faintly of old books and something metallic beneath it.
He handed you a towel and a dry blanket as if he’d done this a hundred times before. “Sit,” he said gently.
You settled on the worn sofa while he moved through the room with silent steps, lighting more candles. Too silent.
You noticed it then. No reflection in the mirror beside the mantle.
Your stomach tightened. “Jefferson,” you said slowly.
He paused. Then he sighed. “Ah,” he murmured. “You noticed sooner than most.”
Your heart pounded. “You’re a—”
“Vampire?” he finished casually. His lips curved into a faint, crooked smile. “Yes.” He said it the way someone might admit they were left-handed. Like it was nothing.
You should have run. Instead you whispered, “Why didn’t you kill me when I walked in, when I knocked on the door?”
Jefferson went very still. For a moment something dark flickered across his face—hunger, ancient and sharp. Then it softened into something almost tired. “Because,” he said quietly, “I’m trying very hard not to be that man anymore.”
He stepped closer. Too close. “But now that you’ve asked...”
Your pulse hammered in your throat and his eyes dropped immediately to the sound. You saw it then.
The hunger. His jaw tightened. “You should leave,” Jefferson said hoarsely.
“But the storm—”
“Leave,” he repeated, voice rougher now.
His fingers curled into fists at his sides like he was holding himself back from something. Lightning flashed again. Thunder shook the house.
You didn’t move. Instead you asked softly, “How long has it been since you’ve had company?”
Jefferson blinked. That question clearly wasn’t the one he expected. “…A long time.”
“You look lonely.”
A quiet laugh escaped him, bitter and disbelieving. “You are either very brave,” he said, stepping closer again, “or very foolish.”
“Maybe both.”
His eyes searched yours. For a long moment neither of you moved. Then he spoke, voice low. “You should know something.”
“What?”
Jefferson leaned closer until you could feel the cool brush of his breath near your ear. “I can hear your heartbeat,” he whispered.
Your pulse jumped instantly.
He inhaled slowly. “And it is making this very difficult for me.”
You shivered. Not entirely from fear.
Jefferson pulled back quickly like he’d crossed a line just by being that close. “I will not hurt you,” he said firmly. Then more quietly: “Even if I want to. No matter how desperately I crave to.”
Silence settled between you.
Rain poured outside. Your heart still raced. And Jefferson stood across the room like a man resisting every instinct in his body.
Finally you spoke. “You don’t have to be alone tonight.”
His head lifted sharply. “Careful,” he murmured. But something hopeful flickered behind his dark eyes. The kind of hope a creature like him probably hadn’t felt in centuries.
Summary: A patient from your old life has escaped custody.
Warnings: Assault, Off screen violence, Stalking. Please let me know if I missed any!
A/N: Written for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's Dark!Simp challenge. Prompts: Dialogue - 12. “When you’re with me, I can see everything so clearly.” & Trope - 2. I'll follow you EVERYWHERE
A/N2: Reader is female, plus sized. No other physical descriptors used.
It's been three years and you can still feel his eyes on you. Everyone tells you it wasn't your fault, he was certifiably insane and you did everything right. But you still feel guilty, responsible. Maybe if you hadn't been so soft spoken. But you were that way with all the patients
All you did was work your cleaning job at the clinic. You knew the rules, had them drilled into you by security, administrators and coworkers. Keep interactions with inmates to a minimum. Never accept gifts. Just do the cleaning and get out.
But Jefferson still thought you were special, different, his. He would talk to you, well, at you whenever you were working. Praising you, calling you his "Queen of Hearts". He'd go on and on about being stuck in Wonderland and how he simply wanted to get back to his daughter. You would be cleaning the hallway his room was on and he would talk to you about tea, being trapped in a time loop. He'd ask your favorite tea and biscuit combinations and laugh at himself when you didn't answer.
"Of course, you are a good woman who follows the rules," he teased. "I just know you would be so good for me, too. When you're with me, I can see everything so clearly."
In retrospect, it felt like just a matter of time before he escalated things. He'd secretly been working on the lock and hinges of his door, making sure he would never fully be locked in. When it was ready, he waited for your next shift, confident in his plan.
You'd barely started mopping the floors when you felt his hands on you. You tried to gasp, scream, anything but he stopped you with a passionate kiss.
"My Queen of Hearts, in my hands at last," he breathes as his hands continue to roam. Your instincts had you freezing up which made him think you were into his touches.
"So much softness and sweetness," he purrs, his smile looking like the Cheshire cat's.
Security must have finally noticed the activity in the cameras because Jefferson was subdued soon after, swearing, vowing to never stop loving you. Promising to have you in his arms again, vowing to follow you everywhere.
Three years ago and you've yet to feel safe again.
Moving to a city in another part of the country was all you could think to do. It was easy enough to find another janitorial job. Not many takers for manual labor at off hours. You'd started keeping mace in your purse and in your work apron. Yeah, you were cleaning up empty buildings, but you couldn't be too safe.
Especially when assholes like Travis liked to jump scare you. You tolerated him because he was actually a good coworker who did his share of the work and did it well. But damn did he still get on your nerves. You'd started listening out for the clinking sound of his St. Joseph necklace to give you a heads up that he was around.
The fact that you hadn't heard from him all night actually had you more on edge than if you were expecting him around every corner.
As you finish work, you pack everything up, triple checking the locks and still keeping an ear out for trouble. The tension in your shoulders is hurting so much you're tempted to use some of your meager paycheck for a massage. It's a pipe-dream for now, though. You remind yourself to just get on the bus and get home. Then you can rest.
Rent for your little studio apartment takes up the majority of your paycheck, but it's in a secure building. Lots of locks, even a security camera or two. It's not great, but it's those touches that help turn your little shoebox into a sanctuary.
It's why you didn't notice the lights were on when you opened the door.
Jefferson grabs you, pulling you inside and smiles that Cheshire grin that haunts your nightmares.
"J...Jefferson? How?" you stammer.
"Of course the Queen of my Heart remembers me," he coos, caressing your cheek. "It's taken me far too long to get back to you but I promise, I'll make it up to you. I even have a gift for you!"
He moves you to the tiny table where he's set up a small tea party with a bouquet of black roses in a vase. From one of the flowers you see a very familiar St. Joseph necklace.
"T..Travis?"
"Ah, my Queen has cleverly deduced one of her presents," Jefferson beams. "He will not be bothering you, ever again."
"What did you do?" you breathe, not trusting yourself to speak above a whisper.
"I made you some tea and biscuits," he answers, matter-of-factly. "Another way of showing how I will take care of you, now that we're free to be together."
He holds out a chair and you sit. You're too in shock to try to fight him.
"I understand that this is a lot," he remarks. "Considering how happy I am to be here, I can only imagine how happy you are to see me."
"You were...in prison."
"Emphasis on 'was' my dear," he winks at you. "You'd think they would have learned after the first time that I'll always find a way out. And this time I only had to kill one person to get out!" You gasp and Jefferson takes your hand. "He was in between us and our happiness, my Heart. It had to be done."
"And...Travis?"
"A gift to beg your forgiveness for taking so long," he replies.
"You killed him, too?"
"It was the only way to be certain he'd stop bothering you."
A tear falls as the weight of Jefferson's crimes hit you.
"I know, it's overwhelming," he smiles softly. "But you'll never need to be afraid again."
Prompt: Day 12 - Let them say we’re crazy, what do they know
Pairing: Jefferson x Reader
Setting: Pre OUAT
Summary: After escaping a dangerous encounter inside the Camelot's castle, Jefferson comes with a conclusion that could give your child the life they deserve.
Word Count: 300
Warnings: Estabilished relationship, fluff, mention of pregnancy, no beta'd. Please, tell me if I have missed something else!
A.N. Day 12 snippet from the event "January Jumble Scribbles", organized by @societynsoelsscribbles.
This is inspired by the story "Tea Party In March", from the canon graphic novel "Out Of The Past". So sorry for the rushed finale...
ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.
JANUARY JUMBLE SCRIBBLES MASTERLIST
You and Jefferson stepped in the hat on time, just to land on a roof far away from the palace. Your senses knew it was wrong to come back to Camelot, but deep in your heart you both knew how this was necessary, how raising enough money would benefit the future of the little one about to come.
Exhausted, you just sat nearby, a wave of nausea hitting you in full force. Your hand gently rested on your stomach, slightly swollen but small enough to conceal your little treasure.
"I'm sorry," Jefferson murmured, "I should have stopped you when I had the chance."
"You know you wouldn't," you replied with a soft smile, taking his hand in yours, "I wouldn't let you come back there alone."
A sigh escaped from Jefferson's mouth. He had relived the moment when, in tears, you had announced that you were with child, making him awake all the nights.
Then, a thought crossed his mind.
"We can sell what we stole," he muttered, squeezing your hand as he looked at you.
"What?"
"The crown jewels, we'll sell them to the best merchant. We could give our child a decent life."
"Are you mad, Jefferson?" you stammered, looking at him with wide eyes, "Think at what merchants will think-"
"Let them say we’re crazy, what do they know?" he replied, “No merchant will dare question where they came from. Not if the price is right. Please, love. Believe me. I'm crazy enough to believe in this plan for both of us."
Your gaze dropped to your joined hands, lost in thoughts. Then, you sighed and nodded, convinced by his words.
"Alright. But promise me we'll stop using your hat once our child is born."
He gave you his usual cocky grin, kissing your cheeks, "I promise."
If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Please, follow and check @thenameswinterfics and turn on the notifications if you want to stay updated about my fics.
Prompt - “But it feels real to me now. It felt real to me then.”
Warnings - Lil bit of angst that ends with fluff
Word count: 299
A/N - Immediately thought of this beautiful man when this prompt came up. I love him so 🥹
A/N 2 - Society also made the banner
My JJS Masterlist
Jefferson watched you with a sad smile on his handsome face. His hair was shorter and the clothes he wore suited him. Suited the new life was meant for him and Grace.
“It’s been twenty-eight years.”
The reality of his words struck the sliver of insecurity you felt. Once the Dark Curse had broken your Cursed memories blended from the last time you had seen Jefferson in the Enchanted Forest. Technically it felt like you had just seen him in the Forest and yet time had passed. But it was different for him. He too had the memory of your last encounter prior to the Curse. But he had retained his memories and continued to live each day watching over people who had no idea who he really was. Surely he had never given up on Grace. But on you?
“Everything that has happened since the Curse was cast… it isn’t real.”
Slowly you nodded, heart and body weighed with resignation. As you turned, tears pricked your eyes. “But it feels real to me now. It felt real to me then.” Your words were whispered as you took a step only to have a hand gently grab your wrist and spin you back.
“Do you mean it?”
”I know those twenty-eight years passed differently for the both of us. But every time I saw you, every time you said hello and spoke to me I felt something.” Twining your fingers you stepped closer. “Jefferson, I don’t care if my memories aren’t real because my feelings for you are.”
Jefferson cupped your face, thumbs stroking your skin. “We’ll make new memories.” His throat bobbed. “Starting now.”
The kiss you shared wasn’t the one to end the Dark Curse but it was the start to a new chapter in your story.
