#in the eyes of his biological family and all of people in this found family choosing each other | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anjelicawrites · 6 months ago

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Homophrosyne

Paring: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader Synopsis: homophrosyne: a thinking and knowledge that is shared between two people. When your soulmate decides to come after you, you try to escape him. Too bad he’s Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, he’s never going to give you up. Warnings: blink and miss reference to the Baron’s abuse of Feyd, blink and miss reference to Feyd killing his mother, soulmate bonding considered as a curse, Feyd being very done and also horny, Feyd’s fascination with reader’s hair and body hair, switch!Feyd, switch!reader, attempted murder (not from Feyd to reader), murder, kissing, oral (f and m receiving), hair pulling, titty sucking, biting, blood licking, overstimulation, marking, Feyd’s pierced cock, a bit of ball torture. A/N: reader is AFAB, the only descriptor is that they have long hair. Where needed, they/them pronouns used.

You were one year old when you first learn that having a soulmate is more akin to a catastrophe, than a blessing. You shouldn’t remember the horrified gasp both your Bene Gesserit and your adoptive mother had exhaled, when they discovered your soulmate’s words on your body, yet you retrieved the memory when your Bene Gesserit mother taught you how to meditate. The two women had instilled the distrust of the bond in your heart, in hope to avoid what was unavoidable: the gravitational pull between two soulmates, before the forging of the bond.

Was the universe conspiring to realize this goal, when you felt compelled to follow your soulmate’s energy, the dark thread that pulled you towards him during that fateful afternoon you were meditating all alone? How could that sad, bald boy be a curse? He looked so alone in the big, dark room: how could you not go to him, when you felt him so strongly within yourself, for the first time?

All your parents, both biological and adoptive seemed keen in convincing you that stunting the newborn bond was the safest way for you to live: you couldn’t break you adoptive father’s heart when you had seen how ashen his face had become as soon as you told him the name of your destiny. You were but a child of six, still learning the ways of the world and put all your energies in forging a wall between you and him, learning to ignore the tug of your soul towards him, until you could pretend you never visited him. It was a fool’s errand, a wall made of feathers, not bricks, the one you, so desperately, crafted to make your family happy. Through the cracks, tendrils of the bond had, slowly, made way for themselves, as you deluded yourself with believing you were safe, that you could escape your destiny. You were a fool, your whole family was. He was biding his time, patiently waiting for the tendrils to envelop the bricks of your defenses and destroy them: if his uncle had taught him something, was the patience of the spider that weaves its web and you, little fly, were going to be ensnared. It was destiny, after all.

You haven’t seen him since that fateful encounter. Stupidly your brain expected him to still be a child of five, sad and alone the way you first met him, you struggle to recognize him in the grown man observing you like a predator would its prey.

“Found you.” He says, his voice a gravelly drawl that makes goosebumps explode on your dream skin.

He’s grown, dream you thinks, of course he’s an adult now.

“You are a stubborn little thing, aren’t you?” He deadpans.

There’s a sort of tenderness in his blue eyes, in the way he assess you from his perch. The irony doesn’t escape you, your first meeting had happened in his bedchambers, your positions the same: him sitting on the bed, you standing in front of him, two curious children who had been playing with forces beyond their understanding.

You want to look everywhere but at him, yet your eyes are drawn to his naked form under the black bed sheets, the strong planes of his hairless chest and the raw, masculine energy you feel coming from him in waves. Even though this is a dream, you can feel your dream body react to his non-presence, your nipples stiffen under the soft cotton of your nightgown and your cunt pulsates with the need to be filled by him.

“You have no idea.” You growl back.

His dark gaze travels down your body, clad only by the soft material of your nightgown and you have to steer yourself from covering your skin from the hunger in his gaze.

“Join me.” He says, beckoning you with one hand. “You know you want to.” “You’ll soon realize how little you know about me.” You spat back, disgusted by the desire coursing through your dream body.

You know that, if you were to follow the desperate howl of need you feel, the pleasure he’ll give you will be unparalleled, it will ruin anyone else for you. There will be no escaping.

With a speed that only exists in a dream, he stands in front of you, glorious body naked, pierced cock erect and straining towards you.

“Why make this harder than it should be? You’re made for me and I am made for you. It’s no use fighting this.” He drawls, the sound a low rumble you feel in your bones. “Because I forge my own path. And I have no use for a fool.”

You’re surprised by how firm your voice is, all the training kicking in without you even thinking about it; he laughs, a deep, rich sound that reverberates through you.

“I’m coming for you, soulmate.” He says, his voice calm, his tone final and sure. “If you can find me.” “I always know where you are.”

You force yourself to wake up, body sweaty and aroused under the soft cotton of your own sheets; you’re ashamed by the desire that burns your body, and by the fact that you have to bury your fingers in your wet cunt, forcing yourself to come again and again, biting your pillow to stifle the desperate moans of his name: Feyd.

To leave both your biological and adopted family is the only solution you have, not when you have to tell your mothers and fathers that Feyd coming for you is not an ‘If’ anymore, but a ‘When’.

“It is too slim a chance that he will not come after you, in the end.” Your mentat father repeats you in the vain hope to stop you. “I’d rather seize that, than wait like a sitting duck!” “You can’t run forever.” Your adoptive father puts his big hands on your shoulders, stopping you from packing. “You’re safer here, where guards are.”

You stare at him, your trained eye sees the stunted micro expressions and the way he’s trying to hide his anxiety from you.

“I’m not sacrificing our people’s on his blade, he will stop once he’ll realize that I have no interest in him and that he can’t reach me; Harkonnen care more about power than anything else. And then I will be able to come home.”

You have to keep yourself awake, swallowing pills after pills, using all your training to force your exhausted body to endure the never ending trip to the furthest limit of the Imperium, jumping from a smuggler vessel to another, hiding your true path from Feyd by trying to use the bond to manipulate him into going on a wild goose chase.

Sometimes you can hear the low rumble of his voice like an echo in your mind, his fleeting image randomly appears in your mirror, his dark eyes pools of desire that have you tremble in the deepest recess of your core; you're so tired now that you don’t know if it’s the bond becoming stronger, or your exhausted brain running on fumes that makes you feel the fleeting warmth of his touch on your skin or his presence by your side. It is torture not to follow what your body wants: just let yourself become one with your soulmate, and rest in the safety of his presence. You are too stubborn to surrender yourself to biology, and to Feyd, so you soldier on, blocking him out as much as you can as the bond erodes the last, frayed, defenses you have left.

Hidden under a false name you wait to set sail to the last leg of your journey and you have to bundle yourself into thick layers of clothes to survive the frigid weather of this small planet, as you force yourself get a breath of fresh air whenever the walls of your rented room seem to become smaller and smaller. It’s paranoia, yet you seem to feel the eyes of the owner of the inn scan you every time you go out, weighting you against the other patrons and finding you too different to truly blend in: when is the vessel coming? You ask yourself again and again, as you navigate the crowded market, vibrating with the need to simply go and finish this demented trip.

You walk aimlessly, pressed in the crowd that protects and smothers you at the same time, trying to interest yourself in the trinkets sold while you study your surroundings, feeling the power you have on the simulflow slip: as much as the Bene Gesserit have total and utter control on their body and its functions, there’s still a limit, and you know you are reaching it at full force.

When you see him, for a second you think that’s your brain playing tricks on you: he can’t be here, not without you feeling him through the bond. Have you finally lost your mind? You can’t truly analyze what’s happening that your body seizes, torn between the extreme stress you’ve put it under for weeks, and feeling the bond finally snap and settle; you faint on the cobbled road, all your muscles trembling violently, your head banging against the pavement as the people make room around you, your ears deaf to their horrified screams, or to Feyd calling your name.

Finally you can rest.

You open your eyes to a dull ache in the back of your head, your eyes focusing slowly on the rustic woodwork of the ceiling above you as you feel your mind assess your memories, and block Feyd from knowing you’re awake, out of sheer instinct, knowing full well this is going to work partially: you will need to face the man, not now though, you’re not ready. You want to assess the bond, understand it: what you haven’t done in your entire life. Escaping is not in the cards anymore, now that Feyd knows where you are, you just need some more time, before you can face him. You’re still surprised he’s been apt enough to manipulate the bond to this extent: you thought he was wasting time in a wide goose chase! This level of deviousness leaves you speechless and, if the circumstances were different, you’d be happy to take Feyd as your lawfully wedded husband; but you can’t.

You have no idea how long you’ve been out, probably long enough to feel your strength and clarity being restored, albeit partially. Quick and silent you bundle yourself up in your warmest clothes and throw the survival kits you have in the backpack, before opening the window and use your mentat training to assess the best route to escape the village, using the roofs as your route. Feyd will realize soon enough that you’re gone again and you need to cover as much ground as you can manage. This planet is so backward, even compared to the standards of this side of the galaxy, that the only mode of transportation is on horseback; for a split second you consider stealing one form one of the stables of the inn, but that would bring too much attention to yourself, and you don’t need that.

Feyd reaches you when you’ve arrived at the high cliffs, the only known feature of this small planet. You knew he’d be on your tracks as soon as he’d realize you weren’t asleep anymore, the block on the bond only partially shielding you from his awareness: you have to confront him, finally, but on your own terms, not his.

“Stay where you are!” You shout over the howling of the wind, as soon as he dismounts from the horse. “If you come any closer I’m chucking myself off this cliff!”

You see Feyd stop on his tracks immediately, and you know he knows, through the bond, that you’re not lying.

“This is the moment you turn around and go back to your home planet!” You shout. “You know I can't do that.” “No one is forcing your hand!”

Your foot slips a little but you manage to regain your balance; a shot of pure, unadulterated fear courses through the bond: it's Feyd’s and it takes your breath away.

“Come closer!” He shouts over the violent wind. “I don't trust you, Harkonnen!”

Frustration, anger, sadness all explode through the bond and you know he's forcing himself not to jump at you and drag you off the cliff, kicking and screaming, even risking you jumping backwards; with the bond having settled, the connection is unavoidable, thus keeping him out completely will never work, there will always be a part of him linked to your soul.

“I'm not going to hurt you!” “You’d never be able to! Not even in a million years!”

Frustration again, and a hint of amusement: he believes his swordsmanship to be better than yours. You fight back, focusing all your anger on him, the strength of it pushing him backwards.

“You can try to best me!” He shouts.

He's positively amused now, despite the situation, he finds you amusing! You're so incensed you’d carve his eyes out! And you’d do so, if fat drops of rain didn't start pelting the two of you, drenching the two of you to the bone in seconds. The sky has turned black and the wind is so violent that you have to abandon your perch on the cliff and get closer to Feyd.

“There's…” You try to make yourself heard over the brutal howling. “Caves!” You shout, pointing to the point where the cliffs fall directly into the ocean. “Go back!” He shouts back. “Too far!”

The crack of a too close thunder scares the horse. The animal rears violently on his hind legs, forcing you and Feyd to move aside before it runs away, mad with fear. You elect to ignore that Feyd has put himself between you and the scared horse.

“We need to go!” You shout, pulling the hood tighter over your head.

You're drenched to the bone and so cold that it's only thanks to the prana-bindu training that you're not trembling like a leaf. Feyd doesn't look any better than you do: his black clothes have absorbed all the water possible and are sticking to his long body; it's the light shade of blue of his lips that’s concerning: without the horse, going back to the village is impossible in this weather: you two need to find refuge as soon as possible!

You don't need to tell him, you simply start walking, trying to orient yourself under the wall of rain that's still pouring over you two to find the cave system you know exists in the cliff that slopes into the ocean.

The wind makes walking a feat, you have to bend forward and push against the violence of the element. Through the bond you feel Feyd and the strain his own body is put under to follow your path, how cold he feels; and it’s affecting you as well. A full grown bond between soulmates it’s not that different from the Other Memory, yet it’s deeper. It’s not simply sharing one’s ego, it’s fusing two cores, while maintaining one’s consciousness: the most deep connection of two people’s experiences, lives and feelings, the biological need to help and protect the other side of the bond. What you’re desperately trying to fight. On a genetic level you want to share your prana-bindu control over to Feyd, to protect him from the chill in his bones, your rational mind stops you from doing so and you’re torn between those two needs battling in your chest.

You two stumble inside the first opening you see and keep walking until you two are away enough from the draft coming from the mouth of the cave; you two quickly scope it, and you finally let your back rest against the cold stones when it is apparent that there’s only one way in and out.

“What is this place?” Feyd’s voice is even lower, raspy with tiredness. “Bandit’s cove. The ruling House of this constellation has eliminated the threat years ago and never went through the hassle of emptying the whole cave system. Some reports say that no planetologist ever studied it as a whole.”

All around the two of you lay broken pieces of furniture and even older equipment, perhaps you two can even find some dry blankets to add to what you have in your survival kits.

The slap of Feyd’s over layers of clothes being thrown on the floor snaps you out of your thoughts: another side effect of being in the presence of one’s soulmate is the instinctual fall of every self-protection response, and you didn’t even realize it’s happening to you!

“We need to start a fire.” Feyd tells you.

You force yourself to ignore the way the remaining layers of wet clothes cling to his long body, enhancing the strong muscles as he moves around to break the furniture into smaller pieces; you know he knows you’re watching, and he likes it. Hurriedly you open your backpack, looking for matchsticks, hoping they are all still dry in the deepest pocket of the survival kit, electing to ignore his smugness again: you don’t know what will happen between you two, one thing is certain, you will slap that smirk off his face, probably sooner than later.

“You shouldn’t threaten me with the promise of a good time, if you’re not going to deliver.” He drawls, and you feel warmth explode in your body.

You throw the matchsticks at him, who grabs it blindly, too focused on creating a small pile of wood to look towards you; despite the shaking of his hands he manages to start the fire. You get closer to the small flames and let your palms hover for a moment, knowing full well you have to change into the dry clothes in your pack; Feyd doesn't seem to care that you're there, he simply removes the remaining layers covering his torso, before rummaging through his own backpack. You can't help yourself, you stare, almost transfixed, at the way his muscles move and play under his white skin, the tight control he has on his movements scream of the training he had subjected himself to: he is so powerful and a part of you wonders how sheathing him within yourself would feel, how would your body manage the feat; you turn around as quickly as you can when he stares at you, embarrassed by having let your mind wonder.

“Are we still playing this game?”

Again, amusement floods from his side of the bond, surprising you.

“It's common decency.” “Was it when you were ogling me?” “I wasn't. I was thinking and you were in the way. Now will you turn around?” “You are weird.” He says, cocking his head to the side.

He talks! You think. Has he ever looked at himself in a mirror? Do they even have mirrors on Giedi Prime?

“We do have mirrors. It would surprise you how common those are back home.”

You jump at his answer, not being used to having someone else camping in your head.

“Stay out of my mind!” “Easier to say than to do.”

He's right and you know it. You know he's not watching as you undress and unpack the dry clothes from their protective layers, yet you feel his presence, his warmth, as if he were touching you; you shiver, you can't help it, the deeper, the baser triggers of your biology taking over a lifetime of training. It is strange, having to manage the rapidly growth of his soul inside of you, find a balance between yourself and him: you can alter your body functions all you want, yet you can't stop yourself from feeling what Feyd does, his tiredness, the warmth seeping back in his bones, his hunger and not only for food.

Now you understand why the Bene Gesserit are so wary of marked sisters.

You try to focus on your body, the flow of your breath and the movements of every single muscle as you change clothes and then eat. You had thought you could have simply shelved the bond in one of the planes of the simulflow, but it encompasses everything and slithers in your every thought. You are not sure how you're supposed to be still yourself and house Feyd inside of you, manage his presence and the layers of your being: is this tiredness in your bones yours? A leftover from having abused pills for too long, or is it him?

“I’ll stand guard, you sleep.” He tells you after you both have finished eating. “I'm not sleeping with you awake.” “Afraid I might steal you away?” “Would you?” “I don't know. Would I?”

His eyes focus on yours as you feel him poke you through the bond.

“How come you're so apt at this?” You ask, needing to change the subject and fishing for information. “I reckon one of us has to, after you blocked me out. It came handy in the long run.” His full lips twist in a smirk and you can see he hasn't the black pain on his teeth; isn’t the na Baron supposed to wear that? “Both of us sleeping is dangerous. If I truly wanted to take you, I would have done so when you fainted in the middle of the street.” “This planet is safe, all the reports say so.” You retort back. “And you know because you’ve read all of them.” He answers, sarcasm tinging his voice.

So he doesn't know, you realize. Even though he knows how to manipulate the bond better than you do, what you are hasn't seeped through, yet.

He will, though, soon enough.

“If you're tired, I am tired. It's irritating.”

It's more than that, it fucks with both your rogue mentat and Bene Gesserit training: it’s harder to understand how to live with another’s soul inside of yours when you feel like you’re battling running on fumes. You know he knows you're not telling the truth, not the whole of it, but the sharing between you two is still happening: you two aren't completely barren to one another.

“We sleep with our backs to the stone and I am laying in front of you. That's not negotiable.” “Don't tell me an Harkonnen has developed the ability to care.” You bark. “I trust my knives more than any report.” He answers.

He's not lying, you realize, he’s not being a gentleman, he simply believes more in his swordsmanship, than he does anything else.

You huff and busy yourself with creating an insulation layer, by putting on the stone floor the ancient blankets stored in one of the trunks Feyd used to feed the fire, before opening your sleeping bag.

Before laying down, you hang all your wet clothes on a small trunk, as close to the fire as possible, hoping they will dry through the night. Feyd does the same and you can't help but notice the stark difference between your earthly tones and his solid black. He then lays the blankets from your survival packs, and his, over the sleeping bags, hoping to ward the cold and humidity away; it’s not ideal but it’s just for one night, back home he’ll shower you will the comforts that come with being his spouse, because you’re going back to Geidi Prime with him.

Uneasy you slither inside your sleeping bag. Hiding a small dagger under the pillow you turn to face Feyd, who is lying on his back; you’d rather sleep on your other side, but you still don’t trust him.

Despite all odds, you fall asleep, a deep, dreamless slumber that envelops you in darkness and quiet; beside you Feyd sleeps the sleep of the hunter, light and ready to be awoken by the gentlest of sounds. He has to force himself not to follow you into the deep sea of unconsciousness, has to fight the natural soulmate instinct to lose all survival instinct, because one’s other half is finally by their side.

The sudden stop of the rainfall is what awakens him. In the darkness he can make out your features, slackened with the relaxation of sleep. A stray lock of hair has escaped the loose plait you braided to help dry them; he longs to move it out of your face, feel the actual texture and not the phantom he does through the bond, but then you would wake and he just wants to observe you. You are beautiful to him in the way nothing is permitted to be on Giedi Prime, you’re also a headache and a half, trying to send him on a wild goose chase and still rejecting him. It would have almost worked, if he hadn’t gone through the pains of learning the ways of the bond, while you had been rejecting it ever since you two were children. He had to be devious about it, hiding from his uncle, pretending to ignore it to not incur in his wrath again and he had to do it all on his own, alone and abandoned by you, who never visited him again. He’ll know soon enough if your family had punished you for having a soulmate, for wearing his words on your skin, the way his uncle did when he first saw the words hidden in the crease of his right thigh.

You become restless in your sleep at this thought, and he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do.

The long years you left him alone in navigating the bond, he had hated that you left him to his own devices, had imagined to hurt you as punishment for the wall you had built between you two, had longed for you and punished himself for it. When he saw you again, in that too short dream, he felt like he had received a personality transplant: all his rage gone, substituted by this array of feelings foreign to him, that he couldn’t name, and lust for your body. There’s no love, nor gentleness on Giedi Prime, or in the Harkonnen family, yet all he could think was that his daggers existed to protect you, that he would never raise his hand in anger against you. Even on that cliff, where he was ready to just drag you by the hair away from danger, it wasn’t because he wanted to hurt you, just protect you; and you’re making everything so difficult, stubborn little thing that you are.

“Is it always going to be like this?” Your voice is a light murmur, your eyes stubbornly closed. “You think while I am asleep, thus waking me up, Feyd?”

It’s the first time you’ve used his name, still emerging from your slumber your defenses are lowered, or so you like to think.

“You’ll learn.” He says. “You could have had a head start.” “You’re such an asshole.” You growl back, opening your eyes.

His face is not fully turned towards you, mindful of the distant opening of the cave, and you can only observe his profile. He’s as handsome, his features only enhanced by the lack of hair, as much as he’s devious and smart: of course he hits all the targets with you, the universe shaped him for you, if only…

Before you let your thoughts wander anymore, you stand up abruptly and start collecting your belongings.

“And you are making this harder than it should!”

You can feel his rage through the bond, it hurts you, yet you know this is the only course of action.

“Why can’t you understand there’s no other way? I’m not coming to Giedi Prime with you, and I am not bringing you home with me!”

Now it’s his turn to stand up, his massive hand curls around your arm and even through the layers of clothing you can feel his warmth, his words on your skin burning.

“I’m not some stray puppy you found at the side of the road!” He bites back.

Before you can answer, from the darkness, countless knives fall upon you two.

The cave you two have camped in must have had another entrance, hidden, because there’s men pouring in from everywhere. Before you and Feyd can go back to back, you two are separated, forced to parry and dodge the hail of stabbing and blows. The more people you two wound and kill, the more appear; they seem to focus mainly on Feyd, who is fighting brutally, cutting through the wall of men that’s, inexorably, closing upon him, in the vain attempt to reach you and the exit from the cave. You’re backed against a wall, desperately trying to carve your way out, but more men jump you and you know you’ve been wounded.

Feyd is one of the finest fighters of the whole Imperium, fast and cunning, but he’s just one man against a never ending sea and as much strength and speed you can infuse your movements, you two outnumbered, you realize, assessing the situation with the inward calm you have been lacking these past few weeks. Knowing that there’s only one solution doesn’t scare you, perhaps it’s the key to solve this entire issue. You focus on the four men blocking you against the stone wall: you forget the daggers in your hands, forget the pain coursing through you body and simply concentrate all your energies on your vocal cords.

“Kill all your companions!” You order, knowing full well how hard it is to use the Voice on a group of people.

The four stop their advance and stare at you, confused, as if assessing your words, before turning around and attacking their own friends. The ensuing chaos is what you and Feyd need to gain the upper hand and cut through the whole host of enemies, now too stunned to pose a threat anymore, until only the four you used the Voice on are still standing.

Another person would be horrified by the look in their eyes at the realization that they have help massacre their own people, you can’t find it in your heart to care.

“Finish the job!” You bark, too busy to assess your internal damages to observe the ensuing bloodbath.

You let your body fall onto the ground, you know you have some broken ligaments in you ankle and a gaping wound on your side; and your cells proliferating hurts more than being stabbed.

You feel, more than hear, Feyd kneel by your side.

“You’re one of the witches.”

Surprise courses through the bond, a sneer tinges his deep voice; perhaps this is the way to convince him to let you go.

“My birth mother was, still is in a way. She’s just given me renegade training, ah!”

Your body tenses when a fractured rib snaps back into place.

“No Bene Gesserit can be marked by soul words.”

“That’s what they want everyone to believe.” You open your eyes and fix your gaze upon him. “Marked sisters exists, like my mother. They are a minority and are not fully trusted to follow whatever is the Bene Gesserit end goal.”

A cursory check of your injuries shows you that you’re left with minor scrapes.

“Feyd, you don’t want to associate yourself with the mess that’s my family. And I can’t let the Baron have any control over my training.”

The training your birth parents forced upon you as protection against your soulmate, the training that makes you accepting the bonding so dangerous. Idiots, all of them! And you as well!

You let your head fall back against the stone, in your mind eye you can see yourself the way Feyd does, still bloodied and covered in perspiration, the most beautiful thing he’s seen in his entire life.

“You’d really think I would let my uncle play you like a puppet on a string?” “You know you’re a pawn in his game. Everyone in your family is, and I can’t risk him using me to gain even more power.”

Sadness fills the bond, it comes from you in waves; you’re not telling him the whole truth, though, he realizes, this is but one of the reasons why you’ve been avoiding your shared destiny.

“That is not a problem anymore.”

Your eyes snap open and land on his white teeth, again.

Why isn’t he wearing the black paint? He’s the na Baron, he’s supposed to! You finally let yourself analyze this change in him. The only reason why he’s stopped…

“Yes.” The low drawl of his voice halts your rambling thoughts. “I had to follow you around the Imperium, right after my beloved uncle passed away, unexpectedly. A shame I couldn't mourn him properly.”

Flashes explode through the bond: the Emperor’s Truthsayer, the body of the old Baron on the floor, his neck broken. Feyd says ‘beloved’ but you can detect no love towards the old man.

“You passed the test. You couldn’t be accused of anything.” “Accidents happen, soulmate. Some are happier than others.” He deadpans.

Another flash: child Feyd, why is he naked? Why is his uncle there with him? You feel his pain, his shame, your words on his body. Pain! You feel like you can’t breathe when you see though his child eyes the blade, and his mother's lovely eyes. Great Mother protect us! Hate, respect, greed, hate so much of it, having to scheme every single second, knowing death and only death.

You lose control of your feelings and thoughts, flooding the bond with hate, and the images of what you would have done to the old man, for what he had put Feyd through.

“I’m glad he’s passed, I wouldn’t have been able to wait for an accident to happen.” You say. “And I wouldn’t have passed the test.”

Pride comes from him, and relief, like a warm embrace and it would be so easy to surrender to him, to your destiny.

“Why are you still trying to run?”

Feyd’s voice is so low, you feel his words more than hear them, warm they settle in your lower belly and you want nothing more than to let yourself go.

“Because having a soulmate is a curse, don’t you understand?”.

Gently you take his hand. His palm is so big and warm, with your fingers you trace the callouses his training left behind; you don’t trust yourself to share this memory without skin on skin contact.

Now it’s Feyd’s turn to see through your eyes and, at the same time, from the outside, like a spectator, you as a child of one year old and two women fussing around you, he knows it’s your mothers, one biological, the other adopted. He feels your panic when your biological one brushes your hair and sees the newly formed words hidden by your thick locks, the wail that leaves the two women’s mouths: what have you done wrong?

“My Bene Gesserit mother had a goal, all of them do.” You say, your hand still holding his. “She wanted to show the sisterhood she could be trusted, even with the soul words on her skin, that a marked sister could be as trustworthy as an unmarked one. Then she met my father.” “The heir to his House.” “His mentat.” You smile at his surprise. “I told you my family is a mess. They forgot their training, their loyalties, only their bond existed. It was only the sheer respect my adoptive parents held for my father, that saved them. They couldn’t even raise me as their own, and I have to believe having a soulmate is a blessing?” “It is not. But I’d rather work with it, than against it. Think of what we could achieve together.”

Oh, his cunning brain. You were bought up reciting the Litany Against Fear, but he had been the one truly growing up following it and you have been acting like a fool for your entire life: you can’t inherit your adoptive father’s dukedom, you will have to take a husband to share the power, as the laws of the Imperium force you to. Would you rather marry a stranger, maybe stupid and short sighted, or someone as cunning and ruthless as Feyd is? Why did your whole family never thought of this? Your adopted parents were terrible at their jobs, they were so painfully short sighted, thus crippling you!

“Enjoy this moment because I will never say this again: you’re right.”

Feyd grimaces at your words and his pain takes hold of the bond, he can’t keep it under control anymore.

Your hands cup his face and you push your forehead against his: you’re not sure you’re doing this right, not without feeling him under your palms.

“What are you doing?” He manages to say. “I’m trying to assess your internal damages, shut up.”

Your nails embed themselves in the soft skin covering his skull as you feel every cell of his body as if they were yours: strained muscles and ligaments, one shoulder hurts and edema is forming, what else? You pinpoint the stray point of a broken rib that has ruptured his spleen: he’s bleeding on the inside!

“This is going to hurt, I’m sorry.”

Your lips connect with his to force his body to heal, his muscles to move the stray point of the rib back where it is supposed to be and mold itself to the stump, his spleen to close the wound and reabsorb the non clotted blood. Under your hands his body twists and you have to use your prana-bindu strength to keep him in place, until you’re done and every injury has healed.

“What was that?” He asks against your lips, his breath coming out harsh and fast. “A witch never explains their tricks.”

Amidst the dead bodies and the blood, Feyd kisses you, his tongue in your mouth eager, your soft breasts against the solid planes of his chest: you taste better than anything he’s ever eaten, the metallic tang of your own blood only enhances his need to absorb you within himself. You straddle him and you feel his cock, hard and thick, you can’t help but grind against him, reveling in the pleasure and the pain he feels: battling the bond and your desire towards him is impossible now.

“Not here.” You manage to moan when he releases your mouth. “Dangerous.” “Still bossing me around.” He groans when you don’t stop grinding against his erection. “I thought you liked it.”

Disengaging from one another is hard, it’s a miracle you two manage, drunk as the two of you are on post-fight adrenaline, murder and lust.

“No bandits, eradicated.”

You feel his eyes on your body, the heath behind his words: he’s not mad at you, he’s hungry. He’d have you in this mass grave, if he knew no more assailant would come.

“Who would have come and check? No one cares about this planet.” You answer.

You two make a quick work of all your belongings and head back to the village you came from.

The sky is still dark, covered by clouds that promise rain, the thick forest that surrounds the path looms on you and Feyd; perhaps there’s more enemies hidden and ready to attack. Through the bond you feel Feyd’s readiness for a fight, he’s also ashamed of having almost lost in front of you. What should you do? How does one comfort a Giedi Prime native? Would he even accept your words?

You jump out of your skin when the horse appears from the forest. The poor animal looks worse for wear, having hidden from the storm somewhere, yet it lets you grab the reins and caress his mane, before it allows you and Feyd to mount his back and rush back to the village.

You hug Feyd from behind, your arms as tight as possible around the bloody backpack and his torso as wind and rain whip your face. Despite the awkwardness of your temporary position, you feel lust grow in your belly, now that you’re not fighting the bond. You know that a part of it comes from Feyd, from having wanted you for years, from having tried to quench his thirst in the arena and with concubines who, he imagined, looked like you. The rest is all you. No lover you had ever managed to satisfy you: none of them was truly built for you the way he is and now that your know what he tastes like, you know you’re hooked and lost forever. How stupid you had been in letting the fears of your family dictate your actions, depriving yourself of him and chipping at your own strength: so much time lost!

The horse almost collapses in front of the inn, tired and foaming at the mouth it drinks from the waterhole in front of the building and ignores you and Feyd dismounting.

The owner of the inn pales when he sees you two, you can only imagine the ways Feyd might have threaten him, while you were out of commission; you don’t feel sorry though, you will, but not now, all you care is climb back to your room and fuck your soulmate until you both collapse. You feel Feyd’s eyes burn holes in your back, his lust for you clouding his senses; it spills trough the bond and you almost choke on your own saliva with the force of it. In your entire life you’ve never wanted someone as bad as you do Feyd right now, only decency stops you from taking him on the creaky stairs.

The door locking behind is final: you have nowhere else to run and hide.

You throw your backpack on the floor and turn around to truly observe your soulmate. He’s imposing in the small room, impossibly tall and hulking, he blocks your way out; only now you notice the freckles scattered on his cheekbones and you think how out of character that is: he’s Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the psychotic Baron of Giedi Prime, his name puts the fear of the Gods, old and new in the hearts of men, and he has freckles so light you can barely see them.

Slowly you walk towards him and lift the tip of your finger to trace them, creating constellations on his skin; Feyd lets a low groan of pleasure escape his lips at your soft touch. One day your words on his skin will stop pulsating when you touch him, his cock will not stand into attention immediately, just because he’s got a sniff of your smell; one day, in the distant future, now he moves his head to capture your fingers with his lips, sucking the digits in with a low moan. Your mouth finds his pulse point and latches there, your teeth worry the soft skin, your tongue licks his heady taste: you want to devour this man, mark him as yours for everyone to see.

“I might need a quick shower.” You murmur in his ear.

Fast, faster than what you would have expected, one of his hands grabs your hair (God the way he groans at the touch), the other lands possessively on your hip.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He growls, menacingly.

You find yourself slammed against the wall, unceremoniously, his hand the only protection for your head. You feel the recoil in your whole body, you want to cuss him, but his mouth is on yours, hungry, his teeth ready to draw blood from your lower lip. You plaster yourself against him, grab at his back with desperate hands as you reciprocate the kiss, blindly following his taste, deaf to the sound of your teeth clumsily clashing against his: you’ve kissed many, but no one had felt like him, tasted the way he does.

You try to push the two of you away from the wall and towards the bed, but your strength liquefies when Feyd simply stands his ground and plasters himself better against your writhing body.

“I should let you hang like this as punishment, soulmate. Tease you until you cry.”

You let your eyes roll for a moment at the heath in his words, then your teeth snap again on the soft skin of his neck and the moan that leaves his lips tells you that there’s more to this man, than his harsh exterior and his reputation.

You pull at the soft skin with jerky movements, clenching your teeth with as much strength as you dare use; Feyd snaps his hips against your clothed core: you can feel his raging erection through the layers of clothes you two are wearing, his lust flashes through the bond and you think you’re going to come by the sheer strength of it. When you taste blood, Feyd knows and moans, a rich, deep sound of pleasure that shakes you: no other lover has accepted your need for pain and violence the way Feyd is doing right now.

He kisses you savagely when he sees his own blood on your lips and you moan at his pleasure, your hands fly to his shoulders to brace yourself against the onslaught of his teeth on your mouth, of his tongue seeking his own taste inside of you; you don’t even realize you can, yet you’re chanting his name through the bond, your lust only enhancing his. He needs to be inside of you, yet he can’t stop kissing you, feeling your needs meld in the bond: it’s heady and better than any sex he’s ever had in his entire life.

“Bed.” You moan when he releases your lips, only to bite your neck like an animal. “Make me.” He growls back.

You have to center yourself against the pleasure and the torment he’s giving you, his hands mold themselves around your breasts, only to squeeze your tender flesh to the point of pain, his hips jackhammer against yours and you know the right angle will make you come like a horny teenager; desperate you focus inward, on your muscles and nerves, willing the pleasure to fade in the background of your conscience and your attention to be on your body, to move you two away from the wall.

Not feeling Feyd through the bond is almost worse: pulling the broadcasting of his pleasure in the background makes you hear his moans and groans even better. He’s unabashed in his lust and knowing that’s you causing all of this makes breathing difficult, yet you manage to push against his bigger frame, forcing him to walk backwards a few steps, before you let one leg fall on the floor and propel the two of you more; he digs his heels against you, effectively stopping the two of you from moving.

“Seems like we are not going anywhere.” He drawls and you feel the amusement through the bond. “And there I thought you wanted to taste me.” You murmur in his ear. “I was told I am delicious.”

A flare of jealousy courses through the bond, his hands grab at your body with such a strength you know you’ll wear his marks for days. Unceremoniously he throws you on the bed, his hands on your knees stop you from closing your legs.

“Who are those who have already taste you?” “Many.” You shrug. “I couldn’t always be good and proper, could I?”

The growl his dangerous and you can’t find in your heart to be afraid: you want him charged up, want to feel the full force of his passion; you laugh in his face as he cuts and rips the clothes away from your body, until you’re naked and ready, your own hidden weapons fallen and forgotten on the floor. The dagger he’s used to cut your clothes, now travels from your neck to your torso, the sharp edge almost touching your skin, but not really.

“Taste my blood, Feyd.” You moan. “It’s something else I’m thirsty for, soulmate.” It’s his dark answer.

He drives the knife through the mattress, next where your head is in a show of dominance that has your hole clench around nothing.

Feyd dives between your legs, he leaves you no chance to speak when his lips curl around your clit and suck, harsh and fast, with filthy moans of pleasure that reverberate through your whole being. Your hips try to push up, stopped by his big hands, your tights clench around his head as you try to escape the pleasure, escape him, pitiful whines flow from your lips as he pushes you higher and higher, until you come with a scream. Dazed by pleasure you expected Feyd to stop, to give you respite; his tongue in your hole forces your body in overdrive, his nose is pure torture against your puffy clit. With horror you realize that you have no purchase against his onslaught, no way to control his movements, but with the clenching of your legs around his head. You try to leverage against his body and his hands shoot out to grab yours, the risk of you snapping his neck enhances his lust, the lack of oxygen only spurs him on to fuck you faster, harder with his long tongue until you explode, breathless and desperate.

“Feyd! Feyd! Let go!”

A harsh bite on your thigh is your only answer, followed by a low growl, like a rabid animal that's finally found food. Through the bond you can feel his pleasure, his hunger, his lust: everything enhances your own reactions, your own blind need for his body. You’re panting now, almost no oxygen enters your lungs, because Feyd’s long tongue is licking you, with clockwise motions he explores your wet heath, only to nibble at your clit, forcing your body to squirm under his weight; the kick of your heels against his back only spurs him on: he can feel how overstimulated you are and it only amps up his own libido, the pain you’re causing him blanks his mind and he almost comes untouched in his trousers when your pleasure becomes painful and your body is shaking wildly under his.

One of his arms falls on your tummy to block you, three fingers of his other hand are already inside of you seek that spongy part that has you jump under him when he finally finds it. You start crying when his lips suck your abused clit: there’s no mercy in the way he’s handling you, just a mindless focus on pleasure. He’s canting his hips against nothing, needing your taste and, at the same time, to be buried inside of you; the way you’re trying to escape spurs him on, his fingers fuck you faster, rougher they scissor your clenching muscles as you kick and scream wildly, almost as if possessed when his soft lips suck following the rough rhythm of his fingers inside of you. You tense under him and arch, the tears falling from your eyes blind you, wail like moans choke in your throat as you feel your body reaching your end, your nerves burn where he’s pleasuring you, so much pleasure, too much! You squirt all over his face, and almost pass out when his fingers don’t stop fucking you a his tongue leisurely licks your essence with obscene moans of appreciation at your taste.

“You truly taste delicious.” He murmurs against one of the bruise on your tight. “Too bad I will have to hunt down every single person who’s had you.”

You can’t answer immediately, your brain is still tying to come down from the barrage of orgasms he forced you to go through, your skin feels oversensitive to the soft touch of his lips.

“Who are those people?” You ask, breathless. “I only remember you.”

Through the bond he knows you’re telling the truth: your past lovers, however many they were, don’t exist anymore, in your mind there’s only him and all the pleasure he’s given you.

You try to find purchase on his slick skin, until you reach the neckline of his jumper to use it to pull him up for a long kiss. You moan when you taste yourself on his lips, your taste and his mingle when his tongue massages yours slowly, his only goal is to savor you, until you are the only thing he can taste for the rest of his life.

“You’re overdressed.” You moan against his full lips.

You don’t leave him the chance to answer. As tired as you are, already, you grab a fistful of his thick jumper and pull upwards, forcing him to remove it, or be choked, leaving him with the other layers of thinner jumpers and thermal shirts. Through the bond you send the image of his knife slicing through his clothing, he laughs but undresses hastily, leaving clothing and weapons on the floor: he’s overheating and sweaty, moreover, why denying himself the feeling of your skin under his?

You’ve managed to push yourself backwards to enjoy the view of his powerful body being revealed: the thick cords of muscles and the pink nipples, his raging erection and the piercing running horizontally, through the shiny head of his cock.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, concerned. “Not anymore. It enhances everything.” He answers.

Slowly he lays on you, his weight strangely familiar as he kisses you again, slowly, feeling every inch of your body with his, savoring the way your full breasts cushion his sturdy chest and how your hips are the perfect cradle for his. He’s surprised to find himself on his back, when you use his distraction to switch your positions; not that he’s complaining, you’re towering over him, giving him a nice view of your full breasts and perky nipples, while his cock is cradled between your lips, warm and drenched. His eyes fixate on the patch of hair between your legs, focused as he was on tasting you to your core, his brain has bypassed everything else and now he’s fascinated by the soft, wet curls he can feel against his body.

“Is it strange?” You gently ask. “Everyone on Giedi Prime is hairless. It’s not bad, just peculiar.” He answers with a shrug.

His long fingers tentatively touch your lips and you shudder, still so sensitive, and you haven’t had his cock yet.

“I’m not shaving, anywhere.” “I didn’t ordered you to, and I will not let you bare yourself like that.”

You pinch his nipple as punishment for his answer and his cock swells under you.

“I don’t need your permission.” You growl back. “I wanted to ride you, now I have to postpone that, and it’s all you fault!” You add, with a wicked smile.

With as much speed your tired muscles let you, you turn around and hover your cunt over his face; you smirk at his satisfied growl and the way his hands go to your hips: it’s cute he believes you’re letting him have a taste again. You flick his reddened head when he tries to pull you down to his lips, he yelps in pain and you don’t miss the beads of precome that appear immediately: he’s truly made for you, and you only.

“You’ve had your taste, now it’s my turn.”

You ignore your hunger when you slowly lick his head and moan at the taste, heady and masculine on your tongue, and envelope his head in your lips, sucking gently, taking your time to have more until you hear his groans and his desperation through the bond, only then you take more, and more, ignoring the way his hips try to push upwards, simply blocking his movements using your prana-bindu strength, reveling in the curses and in the pain he feels. When his head hits the back of your throat he shudders, his muscles shake with the need to move and fuck your face; perhaps if he behaves you’ll let him, one day, but now he is to suffer. You relax your muscles and swallow him with a moan that reverberates through the whole of him, tortured by your lips and the sight of your hole clenching over his face. He desperately tries not to come when the velvety muscles of your throat start massaging his erection and your hand caresses his heavy balls; he arches with a howl of pain when you squeeze them cruelly, and pull at them viciously, until he comes, tears streaming down his cheeks.

You swallow what you can and lick what escapes your ravenous hunger, until it pools on your tongue and you can turn around to kiss him, making him swallow his own essence, his pleasure heady in the bond.

You abandon your body over his, feeling his satisfaction and the warmth of his body; you nuzzle his long neck, so smooth and marked by your teeth. You could almost fall asleep: you feel finally sated and happy after sex, like never before. Through the bond you feel Feyd purr his satisfaction, his big hand caresses your back, following the knobs of your spine leisurely.

“Don't fall asleep. I'm not done with you.” He growls. “Hmm, yes please.”

You feel his cock stir between your bodies and prop one leg over his hip, spreading yourself for him and letting his half hard member between your lower lips. You should feel embarrassed by the renewed wetness, all you can think of is sheathing Feyd's thick cock inside of you.

“You're coming to Geidi Prime with me.” He says, cupping your cheek. “I need to go home, lest fathers believe you’ve kidnapped me and are keeping me there against my will.” “As if.” “You forget this communication goes both ways. Drag me by my hair?” “From the cliff.” He rolls his eyes. “I had it under control!” “You almost fell, I felt it!” “Don't mention it. To my family, I mean.” “The cliff or the hair?”

You're surprised by how amused Feyd feels through the bond or that he has a sense of humor.

“We have that too, on Geidi Prime, as well as mirrors. Incredible, I know.”

You know you’ve dehumanized him in your head for all your life: he was your personal boogeyman, not a man, albeit volatile, not someone with feelings and needs, not your soulmate, but your nightmare. You shouldn't be surprised that he's more than the warrior, and the heir to his family's name: who has been the monster, between you two, for all this time?

You cuddle closer to his warmth, your eyes falling on your spidery handwriting almost hidden by the crease of his tight; you follow the words with the tip of your finger, and cringe at how ill behaved you had been from the start.

“I should have known you’d be hard to pin down, just from that.” “‘Are you sad because you have no hair?’ Great Mother, what a heinous bitch I was! You should have kept me at arm’s length!” “Show me my words.” He asks.

There's a heath in his voice you don't understand, but know it's not because you constantly moving means his cock gets stimulated into full hardness.

Gently you start parting your hair and he finishes the work from you. He enjoys the foreign feeling of your hair on his fingers, almost ticklish but not really, soft and rough at the end of the strands, strangely fascinating since none of his past lays had hair, he's not sure what he is supposed to do with yours.

“You can pull.” You say with a shudder when he touches his words on you. “You need to be gentle, though. You can caress and play with it, I can teach you how to braid, if you want.”.

Feyd’s hand finds home in the roots and pulls, tentatively at first, only to use more strength when you softly moan.

“I think I’ll stick to this.” He growls and you know he’s unlocked a new kink.

He uses his hold to pull you closer to his face and kiss you, his tongue languid in your mouth explores you, taking his time to commit your taste to memory; you scratch his neck in the attempt to gain control back, you liked having him at your mercy too much to let go and he simply tightens his hold on you, drinking down your moans of pleasure.

You straddle him, making sure your warm cunt envelopes his erection and start grinding slowly, letting him feel how wet you are, and ready for his cock; he turns you two, towering over you and you simply arch your back towards him, feeling his eyes on your breasts and perky nipples when you start massaging them, keening and moaning with need. His control snaps, his teeth find your soft flesh to nibble, his lips to suck marks as your legs curl around his frame to cradle him as close as possible to yourself, your nails stretching and raking down his long back in retaliation: the more you hurt him, the savager he becomes, in a cycle only enhanced by your shared brain.

“Now! Now!” You squeal after a particularly harsh bite, feeling your cunt clench painfully around nothing.

Feyd releases your breast with a pop, observing his handiwork with pride: you’re covered with his teeth marks and your cunt is so puffy and leaking sweet cream, only because he’s hurt you, and you him.

His hard cock is exquisite torture, so heavy between his legs he’s in agony when your hand starts jacking him, making sure he’s wet and beyond ready for your cunt, to the point he has to slap your hand away, or he’ll come all over your tummy; he can’t have that, not when your hole is clenching and wet and ready. You arch your back when he breaches you, his head is fat and the piercing only enhances the feeling of him against your wall; through the bond you feel his pleasure, how hard it is for him to control himself and not come, it all amplifies your own lust and need, your hips snapping upwards to take him faster and it’s the sweetest pain, being stretched too early, having your cunt pummeled open and molded to fit his thick cock, until he’s fully seated inside of you, with a long groan of pleasure.

Feyd has to keep his eyes closed, the thin thread of his control almost snapping with every breath he takes: he’s imagined this, he’s spilled in his own hands countless times to the fantasy of you sheathing him inside yourself, and reality can’t compare. Your insides are the softest velvet, your muscles the cruelest of vices around his cock that he can barely grind against you when you start whining. His strength deserts him and he falls on you, managing to catch his weight on his bent arm when your cunt tries to suck him; he can barely breathe your scent in, his body almost in overdrive with pleasure when your hands grab his buttocks to push him in deeper, desperate to feel him in every crevice of your body.

You lock your feet on his tailbone, forcing him to grind against your puffy clit, battered muscles as tight as possible around him in the desperate quest to fuse him with yourself, the piercing pure torture against your G spot. You scratch his back savagely when your orgasm starts to crest, your body squirms under him, clutches his tighter as the band in your belly tightens and tightens, your shared pleasure only enhancing his own need to lose himself inside of you. It hurts to grind against you, it hurts to wait for your pleasure to explode and he can barely contain himself when you sob your pleasure as if he’s hurting you, your nails stabbing him when you come, howling and crying, him following you with guttural, animal sounds he can barely suppress against your skin.

You caress his back and hug him as close as possible as he keeps coming inside of you, his orgasm almost never ending fills you to the brink with his thick cum, his whines of painful pleasure cause a smaller orgasm to rip through you torturing him even more, until all his strength is lost and he’s trembling in your arms, skin so sensitive your caresses feel like lashings.

You feel all of it through the bond, along with his unwillingness to stop touching you through the torment your skin is for him now. Awkwardly you try to send soothing feelings to him, helping him to calm down from the incredible high that the coupling had been for him. You know, because he remembers disjointed memories of his dreams of you, of him waking up hard and desperate and alone, needing your soft touch and having to settle for his own hand. He had hated you in those moments, his body shaken by those painful orgasms that tasted like ashes, that were never truly satisfactory. With a stab of jealousy you see the people he fucked, brutal and fast, imaging you in their stead, and even that wasn’t enough to sate his hunger, now? Now he’s in heaven, having felt pleasure like never before in his life.

You have to use all your prana-bindu strength to roll you two on the side, Feyd is basically dead weight in your arms, before you hug him as tight as possible, only wishing to have a knife at hand to protect you two in this unfamiliar environment, the one embedded on the bed has fallen and you can’t reach it.

“The owner would rather kill himself than dare disturb us.”

Feyd’s voice is tired and low, a rumble you feel in your whole body.

“What did you do?”

You can feel Feyd’s wicked smile against your throat.

“Nothing. Just exchanged a few friendly words after you fainted.” “I’m electing to ignore whatever has happened.” You say. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come around.” You add, awkwardly

You feel how tired he is, moving his head away from the crook of your neck is almost impossible for him.

“You have all the time to make up for it. Now sleep, you’re going to need it, that I can promise.”

You shiver against him. Neither of you are going home any time soon and there’s all the time in the world to negotiate the route back.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x y/n #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x y/n #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen

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aryxchse · 8 months ago

Text

the same type of blue. | percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader.

a / n : the history book on the shelf, is always repeating itself. and i won't shut up about how logan lerman and his wife being sally and poseidon in my head

warnings : emotional, i can't warm up to paul im sorry, sally and poseidon should've been an endgame but idek how, mentioning past, you looking like sally, crying, some of the hera cabin power mentions that i had in mind

the moment sally jackson met you, was the moment she saw her teenage self in your eyes.

you were this funny and bubbly girl who was too nice for your own good. you had these mother instict in you that later she found out it was because of your mother being hera. you would always say what type of marriage you imagine with percy and how many kids do you want. one boy and one girl, doesn't matter who's the older. the girl was going to have percy's eyes, but the boy will have yours.

and it always put a smile on her face to listen you talk about your dreams so comfortly to her. because she saw herself in those dreams. they were once her dreams too.

percy looked and acted too much like poseidon for sally's own good. he would unknowingly make his dad's jokes, and would call you 'darling' like he did to her back then. all these little details would remind sally her past love.

it was a barbeque day for the jackson-blofis family at the montauk cabin. where you were obviously invited, and poseidon, obviously was not. he liked to show up in family gatherings once in a while, to spend some time with his son or suprisingly, estelle.

you and sally prepared the table as the boys made the meat while laughing at something. paul and poseidon had this awkward friendship that always made you giggle. and percy would chat with his biological dad more often, since he felt more comfortable with him. don't get me wrong, he loved paul. all of you loved paul. but poseidon's warm energy made him easier to talk.

you never thought you'd have a dinner with a god but here you were, eating a meal with one of the most powerful gods ever existed. poseidon was really good at making people forget that he's a god, the one that rules the seven seas.

after the dinner, percy and you started to clean the area as paul went inside to watch this new game he followed, you didn't really paid attention. sally stayed outside, smelling the sea's calming scent, her bare feet dipping in the sand.

she looked over were poseidon and estelle was playing. he made sand castles with her as he laughed like a true grandpa. it made sally chuckle too, seeing him acting all fatherly with her daughter.

"he wants to make up for it," you said, and it made sally slightly jump. you apologised while putting a hand on her shoulder. "you know, since he couldn't look out for percy and you."

sally's eyes started to water up, but she managed to crack a smile. "how do you know this?" she asked. you shrugged, "i can feel a parent's feelings, even if they're a god. weird power, i know." you chuckled at the end with her.

"he didn't had any choice," sally muttered, looking at the sea again. you nodded. "i know, but he still feels bad. he really loves you sally, still like the first time." your whispering words made sally want to breakdown right then and there, but she only sighed.

"baby!" percy called behind you, smiling like a little kid. you both turned around as you made your way to percy, giggling. once again, it reminded sally the good times. but she wasn't alone this time, poseidon could also see the similarities between them. how you had sally's hair back then like how she used it, and how percy was a literal copy of himself.

sally sat next to poseidon as he sat there silently, watching his son and his girlfriend chase eachother around the beach, just like he and sally did. estelle was asleep in his arms, the calm energy he radiated making the girl fall asleep immediatly.

"they're just like us." poseidon whispered, not looking at the woman he still loved. sally smiled, not that he would see. "yeah. but a better version." she responded.

"one that ends happily unlike us." he agreed, too afraid to look in her eyes. sally didn't said anything, and the past lovers watched their son having the time of his life with the girl he loved.

suddenly percy lifted you up on his shoulders and ran into the water with you, still being clothed. you whined the moment you swimmed up. "percy it's not fair!" you yelled at him between your giggles.

"m' wet too baby, see? there's nothing unfair in this!" percy laughed with her, hugging her waist tightly so that she won't slip away.

"you used to do that too," sally whispered to poseidon, smile hurting her cheeks at this point. poseidon mimicked her facial expressions as he nodded quickly.

"and you would always whine like her." he chuckled, making the woman laugh along with him.

percy stepped out from the water with the help of the waves, still holding you in his arms in bridal style. while he made his way into the cabin, he spinned you around once in a while to make you laugh.

"he's really your son." sally chuckled, watching the couple enter the cabin.

"he's our son." poseidon corrected. he finally faced the woman, and saw the tears perking in her eyes through a smile. this was sally jackson, the woman he loved the most. smiling through everything.

he made the tears go away with a flick of his hand, too afraid to touch her. "a proof that our love was real, not a dream i had."

#poseidon the man you are #I WANTED AN ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE OF THEM BEING TOGETHER #god sally and poseidon are my roman empire #your mother is a goddess among humans #MAN #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson series #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson headcanon #pjo show #pjo tv show #percy x you

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leonw4nter · 19 days ago

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RE2R!Leon x Singlemom!F!Reader

“Will Leon finally come with us to school tomorrow?” Dash quietly asks, interrupting the silence that settled over the both of you as you were just about to fall asleep. You look down and are greeted by open eyes, his little head propped up on your arm as he snuggles up with a teddy bear.

“He was busy the last time and the time before that but he said he’ll make it up to us,” he added. “Did you ask him again? He might’ve forgotten about tomorrow.”

You stroke his hair, pressing a light kiss to his hairline as you try to lull him to sleep.

“Mhm, he said that he’s good to go tomorrow. Leon’s excited coz it’s going to be his first time tomorrow,” you say in a hushed tone. You don’t need to open your eyes to know that he’s grinning wide, too excited to fall asleep easily now.

“I should go ask Leon–”

“No, he’s probably asleep in his own room. It’ll be impolite to disturb him, right?” you ask in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah,” he mutters somewhat dejectedly though not upset about the fact.

“How about tomorrow morning instead, over breakfast?”

He nods and mumbles a quick goodnight, turning over to face the wall as he wills himself to fall asleep.

If his father was still in the picture, he would be the one accompanying the both of you to tomorrow’s parent-teacher conference. Unfortunately he bowed out of the picture as soon as you were discharged, nowhere to be found until you heard that he was probably somewhere tropical on a boat with another woman. You were left behind lost and directionless, confused on how to raise a baby alone; you really thought that you were set with him and your small family but people always change, no matter the circumstance. Fortunately, you have a doting childhood best friend who was ready to step into the picture as a stand-in for a father figure despite having little to no experience with little kids, much less newborns: Leon. He was young as well but he took his part seriously and practically raised your bundle of joy alongside you– volunteering to wake up at various points at night for feeding, bathing, and tagging along for monthly check-ups. His bond with Dash is so close that upon first look, people often assumed that the two were biologically related. Teething was far from easy– many nights Dash's crying seemed endless with a steady flow of tears, nothing seemed to calm him down yet he stayed patient and helped you throughout. Now, he’s happy that the baby that once puked on his blues is growing up to be a strong and cheerful child.

Leon did everything he could to be there just so Dash could feel that he had a complete set of parents during family activities. He dismissed the judgemental glances of other mothers upon seeing the three of you, you and him looking far younger than everyone else but he could care less– what do they know about your family anyway? The blond promised the kid that he would come along for the first parent-teacher conference but unfortunately he was paged in for an important shift, one that he couldn’t refuse so he had to apologize profusely and promise another time. Much to his dismay, he was placed in another important shift and couldn’t opt out once more. As much as he praised and appreciated the kid’s display of maturity and understanding, he felt like a real jerk for being unable to stick to his promise the second time around even if he couldn’t do anything about it. You assured him that it’s all fine and that he can make up for it through other things, like taking him for a walk in the park or getting him a new toy. As soon as you show him the circular for the third meeting, he spends the entire week heavily wishing that nothing goes wrong within the week so he can finally be there for the kid he considers his son. In his excitement, he digs out a rare-used light blue button up and navy blue slacks, ironing them and asking if they’re appropriate for the occasion if paired with white sneakers.

The car is buzzing with excitement and positivity, you and Dash sat together at the back while Leon drives. Dash’s favorite songs are playing on the radio, courtesy of Leon asking him to list down his favorites so he can have them burned into a CD so he’ll have something to put on when your sweet little boy goes on a ride with him. His gaze flits from the road to the rear view mirror, chuckling quietly to himself when he sees the two of you engage in a lively conversation. Both of your laughter is unguarded and free of self-consciousness, a hearty and throaty sound straight from the heart; your lips are pulled back to form a smile that rivals the sun, your cheeks lift and forms two round apples with a beauty and glow that prompts him to release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Leon thinks that undeniably, Dash is a 100 percent a mama’s boy: the tilt of his grin is like yours, along with your habit of tilting your head back with every bubbly laugh, and the tendency to clap your hands. In no time, Leon arrives at the school’s parking lot and finds an empty space to park in.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“I see that dad’s here,” Mrs. Perkins comments as she sees Dash carried in Leon’s arms. She softly smiles, offering a seat to the both of you before extending her hand to shake his. You and Leon take a moment to exchange flustered sheepish looks, matching rosy flushes reddening your cheeks and the tips of your ears. Dash grins and giggles, covering his grin with his hand as he looks on at this adorably awkward scene unfold.

“He’s not–”

“I’m not–”

The teacher looks at the both of you and chuckles softly as she clasps her hands together. “Yes?”

“I’m Dash’s uncle, actually– his mom’s best friend. I’m Leon Kennedy by the way,” he awkwardly clarifies as he shakes her hand.

“Ooh, good day mister Kennedy! It’s nice to see you.”

Mrs. Perkins doesn’t appear to buy the whole ‘mom’s best friend’ thing, shooting you two a knowing look before she pulls her hand back from the handshake and gestures for you both to take a seat.

The meet-up goes well; the teacher is full of praise and pride in your son’s academic performance; she remarks that he is quite bright for his age– he knows a lot of words that his peers don’t know yet, asks questions atypical for his age, and is very well-known for his creativity when it comes to arts and crafts activities. Leon’s heart only swells even more when he notices that you’ve reached over to hold his hand, squeezing rhythmically. He breaks his gaze from the teacher to take a moment and study your face; your dimples– two perfect indentations in the side of both cheeks– appear as you try to press your lips into a tight smile though he notes the expressive shimmer in your eyes, your joy contagious. He can’t help but let out a soft chuckle, squeezing your hand back. He gives the little boy a high-five before ruffling his head in a display of affection.

“We’ve got a little Einstein in our hands,” Leon jokes once the teacher concludes her remarks. “Well done bud, we’re proud of you!”

As a reward for his academic performance, you and Leon treat him to ice cream. Though you’re taking initiative to pay for the snack since you can afford to do so, Leon persists on paying for everyone. After a little while, Dash insists on going to the playground and you both agree to let him play for a few hours until he wants to stop. Your best friend insists on being the one to watch over, giving you time to sit down and rest up for a bit while Leon plays and runs around with your son, madly entertaining Dash. An hour or two later, the pair returns back to you for a water break to catch their breaths for a moment. As you wipe your son’s little face, he asks a question.

“Mama, why isn’t Leon my dad?” He asks in such an innocent voice. You hear a muffled choke come from your side, a tomato-faced Leon trying to conceal his coughing. “Doesn’t he want to be my dad? He’s here for both of us and he loves us too.”

You stare at him with a surprised expression while Leon clears his throat, clearly just as taken aback as you. Children are such upfront little people.

“Leon, you love us right?” He asks with expectant eyes.

“Yes, buddy. So, so much.”

You look up at Leon and give him a soft smile and he returns a shaky yet genuine smile of his own.

“Mom, do you love Leon?”

“What? Of course I do! He’s my best friend! We’ve been friends ever since we were as small as you were! Right, Leon?”

“Yup! We’re just very close friends, we care for each other y’know.” A pang rattles Leon’s heart– whatever you said shouldn’t sting this much but it does and he feels embarrassed. “I’ll just throw this bottle. I’ll be back guys.”

You watch as Leon walks over to the bin, the sweat on his hair glistening under the afternoon sun. It’s only right for you to hand him a towel and get him some more water.

“Even Mrs. Perkins thinks he’s my dad,” Dash quietly mumbles to himself as he fumbles with his shoe laces right before you bend down and help him out. Leon returns and asks Dash if he’s ready to go, to which he responds enthusiastically before they go running to the swings once again.

“Leon!” You exclaim before he gets too far. He turns around and you toss him a towel, to which he smiles at the gesture before wiping his cheeks and forehead. As he turns back, you wished that you had handed it to him instead so your hands would brush by accident.

As you sit and watch on to the sight of two of the most important people in your life, both with endearingly gleaming smiles as they run around, it deeply occurs to you just how deeply Leon’s life is woven with yours and Dash’s; he treated Dash as if he were his own, offering sleepless nights of support and assistance for when things get rough. Although you were hesitant to accept help from him, especially since you saw your baby as a responsibility you should take on alone, he stepped into the father-figure role naturally. He’s become everything you both needed without even trying; his kindness, endless patience, and humor– it’s all just the small bits of a love you’re beginning to see. You’ve been leaning on him in ways that feel less like friendship and more like something else, something fiercer and more potent and it scares you because the last thing you want to be is to depend on him entirely, feeling like a freeloader. As he playfully lifts your son up into his arms, you’re struck with an emotion you can’t ignore– a feeling both powerful and terrifying. Every instance of his support, every sacrifice he made, all the moments he showed up when no one else would– your affections have quietly been growing all along. You smile at him, chuckling to yourself as the depth of your own feelings stun you.

“Mama!” Dash calls out, waving. “Come play with us!”

“Yeah!” Leon adds, cupping his hands around his mouth. “It’ll be fun!”

“Alright, alright!” You say, skipping over to them.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The playground trip lasted all afternoon, effectively tiring out your hyper little bundle of joy who is now fast asleep in Leon’s arms. You both agree to call it a day, walking back to the car to put him in his child seat. He checks on you too but you reassure him that you’re fine and happy that Dash’s happy.

“It’s no biggie,” Leon says in a hushed voice as he gives you a boyish grin. “I’m glad I finally got to come along.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. “I’m glad too. I haven’t seen him this energetic in a while.”

The soft hum of the engine blends with the rustle of the wind outside, filling the quiet car with a sense of peace as everyone finds themselves content with the day’s activities. You rest your head against the window, the cool glass a soothing contrast to the warmth on your cheeks. Leon drives with a quiet focus, fingers occasionally drumming against the steering wheel to an imaginary melody in his mind. He glances over with a small smile, to which you return as your tired eyes meet briefly. Sometime along the drive, Leon gently breaks the silence.

“His teacher thought we were his parents back there,” he recounts. “Does she know about…”

You know he’s hinting at whether or not Dash’s teacher knows about the situation between you and his biological father.

“No, she doesn’t. I prefer to keep things private,” you respond.

“Yeah, I totally understand it but uh… she got me kind of nervous earlier.”

Your heart rate spikes up, realizing that he felt the same as you did– flustered and giddy.

“Same, I didn’t realize that some people would see us like that.”

“Maybe we’re just so compatible with each other that people think we’re married or something,” he jokes but the streetlight briefly shines on his face, revealing a bloom of pink on his cheeks.

“Well if people think we’re married, maybe we’re giving off very convincing chemistry,” you say with a grin and a raise of an eyebrow.

Not too long after, you both arrive back home. You move to unbuckle Dash and gently rouse him as you carry him inside before washing him up. Leon finishes up with securing his car and offers to pat him dry as you put away his bath soaps. After getting him dressed and settled into bed, you take the time to look after yourself and have a bath. You hear the second bathroom door click shut right before the high-pitched creak of the shower handle so Leon must’ve gone to shower now, probably just as worn-out as your son is.

Leon’s always admired how you handle everything gracefully– the late nights, endless responsibilities– wondering how you do it all without crumbling under the immense pressure. It’s impossible for him to ignore his heart ache with something he’s dreamt of for so long, all the feelings he’s kept under lock and key out of fear that he’ll fuck everything up if he lets even a small sliver of it slip out. He finds himself admiring you more than he should, that unspoken affection that’s more than just concern for a dear friend growing over time with each shared laughter, tears, and struggle. He’s remained loyal by your side as a best friend and a fun father-figure to Dash but he catches his mind constantly slip into the idea of being more than just your best friend, someone you can lean on as a partner– to be the one to hold you when you’re tired and takes care when you and your son are both tired for as long as he can. These thoughts scare him because Leon doesn’t want to risk the bonds you three have formed but he can’t help but wonder if you’ll see him the way he sees you. He doesn’t want to make you any more upset and distrusting, especially with the absence of Dash’s biological father; he can’t help but feel a wave of protective anger rush over him at the thought of someone walking away from his best friend and her son but in that moment when Mrs. Perkins referred to him as Dash’s dad, a fizzy sense of belonging spread through him. In that moment, he allowed himself to indulge in the thoughts of actually stepping into that role, to be there for both of them in a way that you clearly both needed and deserved but he guesses that you’re hesitant on the idea of having a partner again so he swallows his feelings and prioritizes yours first.

He hears the door to the bathroom open up, footfalls fading to the direction of your bedroom. Leon gets up from his spot on the couch and heads upstairs, spotting you; you’re in your sleep clothes, towel-drying your hair as you walk to your room.

“Hey,” he softly begins as he fumbles with a loose thread on the hem of his sleep shirt. “Do you wanna sit outside on the porch with me? It’s fine if you don’t, I know it’s been a long day.”

As good as sleeping sounds, a personal one-on-one time with Leon sounds somehow better. It’s been a long time since you’ve both spent some time together– talking about nonsense and something other than work, so it’ll be a nice moment to catch up despite literally living together.

“I’m good with that,” you respond. “Just hold on though, I’m drying my hair.”

“Okay,” he exhales with a smile. “I’ll wait outside!”

You swiftly wring the water out of your hair and brush it before you throw on a sweatshirt then head out. You pass Dash’s room once more and he’s still out like a light, soft hushed snores filling the otherwise silent room. All the lights in the house are out and everything is still and peaceful. You see Leon’s frame sitting on the porch, hands braced on both his sides as he stretches his tartan pajama-clad legs.

“Hey, you.”

He turns around and pats the spot beside him. “Hey, yourself.”

You sit beside him and do some stretching of your own, yawning as you do so. The cold breeze tickles your face and sends a few strands of Leon’s bangs poking upwards.

“I just wanna sit in here until the morning comes,” he says with a wistful sigh as he shakes his head, trying to get his bangs to move out of his eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind, honestly. As long as it’s with you,” you gently nudge him with your elbow.

“Even if I’ll crack the corniest jokes?”

“Especially with your corniest jokes.”

A short silence befalls the both of you before the blond beside you pipes up again.

“Hey, if we’ll still be taking the time at night to sit on this porch twenty years from now, what do you think we’ll be talking about?”

You hum in thought, fingers drumming against the steps.

“I dunno, but I know you’re probably still making me laugh. I’d be on board with that.”

He chuckles, a hushed release of air. Silence settles again as both of you take in the scenery in front– an empty road, swaying tree leaves, and the sparkle of stars overhead amidst the clear sky. Sitting on a porch is a fairly plain activity, one that you have done quite often and way before Dash arrived in your life but doing these with Leon always felt exceptionally different; back in childhood, this was your thing every Friday night– you, him, and what appeared to be the best view in town in your small corner of the universe. Stars, the breeze, and your favorite person right by your side is all you ever needed to unwind after a long day.

“His fiancé invited me to their wedding,” you quietly admit. You catch Leon’s head turning to face you, interest evident in his face.

“Who?” he asks.

“Oh, you know. Him, my ex. They’re getting married. I don’t even know how she found me.”

Leon’s face falls, eyes glinting with some form of pity. He moves closer to you, arm pressed against yours as he moves to wrap you into a snug hug.

“I’m fine, Leon, seriously. I’ve moved on. I don’t want anything to do with him and neither does my son so I don’t think I ever have to see him again. I’ve healed and I’m moving on,” you firmly say but you don’t make an effort to push him off, sinking into his hug instead.

“I know. You’re very brave and strong and you handle everything like a champ but this is still really insensitive of them to do,” his voice comes out slightly muffled.

“I blocked her number and account on all platforms I could find her so she’ll never reach me again,” you reassure him with a grin. “So don’t worry about me getting my heart broken, okay? I know better than to talk to that good-for-nothing, piece of shit.”

You smile at the slight jostle of Leon’s frame, knowing that he’s laughing at you calling your ex a piece of shit as you hug him back, resting your chin on his shoulder as you smile in contentment.

“You deserve someone better than that and don’t worry, if he pulls something stupid I’m going to sock him in the nuts,” he declares.

“Sounds like a plan,” you laugh. “And for the record, I think I know someone who’s definitely better than that.”

“Who?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yup.”

“I’m taking this as a pretty big compliment. I guess I’ll have to prove it to you, huh?” His voice is warm as he rubs the back of his neck, a mechanism he does when he’s flustered.

“Yeah, and you’ve got plenty of time to prove it to me since you’re going to be stuck with me forever,” you joke back.

“That sounds like shit,” Leon loudly says, which earns a shove from you. “Ow!”

“Shut up, as if you wouldn’t be bored and lost without me.”

“Fair point,” he concedes.

The night drags on with you and him engaging in friendly banter and in an unspoken competition to make the other snort mid-chortle. With each number the short hand of a clock points to, the solitude that the night offers turns into the perfect opportunity to say things that you two would normally be shy to talk about. You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion that’s clouding both your judgements or the howl of the wind against your ears but you’re slightly thankful that it led to this moment.

“I’m getting kind of tired,” you say.

“Me too,” Leon agrees, dusting off his pants after long hours of laughing as he gets ready to get up and call it a night.

“No, not just that…”

Leon looks over to you concerned, features losing the smile it had and replaced with a look of urgency and concern. “You alright?”

“I’m just… I’m getting tired of pretending that I don’t want to kiss you every time you smile like that,” you admit as a heat creeps up to your face as if you were sitting near a bonfire. He’s stunned silent now, staring at you with an intense gaze and for some reason, this prompts you to go on.

“I want to finally say things that I’ve only ever said to you in my head and it sounds crazy but not as crazy as I am about you.”

Leon sat frozen like a deer caught in headlights, mind racing in circles and each thought colliding while all he could do was stare wide-eyed and madly flustered. Your stomach feels pitted when you see the shock on Leon’s face, an icky regret creeping up to engulf you in shame and self-loathing. A lump lodges in your throat as you scramble to form words to apologize to him.

“No, no, it’s not that– I swear. It’s just that I’m really, really caught off-guard because me too,” his words tumble out. “I mean, I feel the same way. I’ve loved you for a while now and I just didn’t know how to say or deal with it because I thought that you wouldn’t be open to dating.”

Despite the quake in his palms, he takes your hand in his and gives it a grounding squeeze.

“I didn’t want to say anything or act on how I felt because I was afraid that I’d ruin everything that we formed together and I’d lose you forever. It’s funny how my whole life I have loved you and I was completely fine with us being best friends.”

His words draw a small chuckle from you, the swarm of butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach. You feel as if you’re stuck in a rapidly turning whirlwind, your world spinning with each glance of his affectionate smile.

“If you’d let me, I’d love to be there for you and Dash.” He says with a determined expression. “I want to be someone you can depend on in a way beyond close friends, if you’ll have me. I’ll always be here.”

You thought that you were too complicated, that no one would willingly take on the challenge of your little family but here is Leon, sharing his heart and devotion and now it all makes perfect sense. You and Dash deserve someone like him, someone who loved the both of you wholly and saw you both as someone to love and protect and not just another obligation.. It was the kind of love you thought you could never ever have, the sort that you’d quietly given up on. Tonight has shown that you could finally allow him to be the partner and father that he already was at heart. The sensation of his thumb brush against your knuckles brought you back on this porch, met with such a tender gaze that your breath caught in your chest. He leaned in closer but only hovered above your lips in such dizzying proximity, your answer coming out in a shaky yet soft exhale as your lips meet in a seal to a new promise as the rest of the world melted away.

NOTE - This is a very simultaneous writing project that I whipped up in an hour and a half, at 2:02 AM from where I'm at, so it might not: (1) make any sense, (2) be the neatest work I've posted in here, and (3) have the world's most stiff dialogue, uncooked pasta noodles have more flexibility than this 😭 I've been thinking about writing smut lately because I have an idea of a smut fic in my head but it's so embarrassing typing "cock" and "mmhh" into a google doc 😭😭 like the idea I have is so good but just writing the mechanics of sex is embarrassing for me LMAAOO. Since my laptop's about to run out of battery, I'll end my yapping here. Thank u for reading my fics!!!!!!!! I <333333 UUUUUUUU + please, please, please stay safe everyone! The weather is wilding nowadays.

The hand-drawn dividers are made by @inklore , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #biohazard #fluff #leon s kennedy fluff #dad leon kennedy #dad leon s kennedy #leon kennedy dad #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil 2 #re2 remake #re2 #leon kennedy re2 #leon kennedy x you

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bluetoes-andstuff · 2 months ago

Text

A Hidden Desire

Chapter 1 - Curious Fascination

Summary: Caesar rarely has time to reflect, and when he does he always finds himself falling down this same path...

Rating: T (Eventual NSFW)

Word Count: 2.5k

Relationships: Eventual Caesar x Fem!Human Reader

Warnings: mentions animal mating, and sexual themes

Next Chapter

***If you are under 18 I would advise not reading, this is not an explicit chapter but this will be a story that explores nsfw themes later on. Best to just not go down the path to begin with. Be safe***

Caesar sat alone outside his nest, legs hanging over the edge of the porch wrapped around his home. The early morning sun filtered through the canopy of trees below, casting dappled shadows on the floor of the colony, a mosaic of light and dark as his people began to awake. It was in these quiet moments, away from the watchful eyes of his fellow apes, that Caesar allowed himself to ponder his life thus far. And despite his attempts to stray from the thoughts, more often than not lately, his mind was drawn towards the mystery of humanity.

Perhaps it was the absence of humans that had drawn this interest, or maybe it was a slow build of his pent-up, biological desires. Despite the scars of betrayal and the bitter memories of conflict, a stubborn fascination with humans lingered in Caesar's heart. It was a curiosity born not of naivety, but of a deep, unshakable connection to his past. Raised by a human father, Caesar had been nurtured with love and compassion, qualities he had come to cherish and emulate. It's what has contributed to his success as a leader and guide for ape kind.

Caesar knows who he is… he is an ape; he is not human. He is proud of where he is and how far he and his people have come. They’ve established their own community and developed a society. And he has the right to take full responsibility for all of it. Yet, there were still moments when Caesar found himself longing for the simple human experiences he once shared with his father. He missed the quiet evenings spent reading books together, the way his father’s voice would bring the stories to life. He missed the warmth of a home, the smell of fresh cooking, and the classical piano music that would echo through the halls during rainy days. These memories were bittersweet, a reminder of a time when the world, to him, seemed simpler, and the lines between ape and human were not so starkly drawn.

Despite these things he missed, he was still able to look back, smile, and move forward with his day, knowing that this was exactly where he was meant to be. There were other things though, about humanity, that had always drawn upon a certain kind of curiosity, even to this day. A curiosity and fascination that he was never quite able to quench even when he lived with his human family. He had been too young to fully grasp the concept at the time. He was just coming to the age where his body yearned for that understanding and developed interest when everything began to fall apart.

Humans had intriguing courting rituals. The displays of affection he saw between his father and mother were just commonplace when he was growing up with them. He assumed it was normal, but it most definitely was not. His years with his own kind have been enlightening for him. All those things he saw among humans, being through courting, affection, even mating… he assumed he would one day experience that as well, but these rituals were not normal amongst his kind.

He had held onto that desire to understand, know, and feel those same things he had witnessed among not just his parents, but the other humans he had seen on television, in books, and in the videos he had begun to stumble across in his curious search for answers. He’s come to realize that the only way to fully understand those feelings would be to experience it himself… but at this point it was simply out of the question. Humans have been gone for a long time, and he had his people to worry about, he couldn’t get distracted by some human-indoctrinated fantasy. He’s come to accept that.

During their first year in Muir Woods, he had done his fair share of “messing around” as humans would say, trying to find a proper mate to fulfill those human needs he was still clinging to, but there hadn’t been a single one that had been capable of satiating him. They didn’t make the noises like he was hoping, and out of all the ones he’d taken back to his nest, only Cornelia had agreed to lie on her back while he had his way with her, she did not question him like the others had with his odd request… The ordeal had been uncomfortable, and she had squirmed far too much for there to have been any enjoyment. And every time… It was short. By the time he was beginning to feel that urgency and burn in his gut, the females were no longer interested. There was no intimacy or “foreplay” as humans say.

None of it was human like he craved.

It took him some time, but he had to accept that the desires held in his heart were not meant to be fulfilled. It was an unnatural feeling he craved as an ape and he could not jeopardize the apes’ future for his silly human-influenced lust.

So, Caesar married Cornelia more out of the convenience of friendship than love. They were well acquainted with each other, and as the leader, he was expected to take on a mate to produce an heir. Cornelia was strong and kind, qualities that made her a fitting partner in the eyes of the colony. Her frequent respect and loyalty without question to Caesar opened a door for him that brought enough satiation to distract him from his human feelings. She was always willing to appeal to his odd human fantasies even without knowledge of where he got such wild ideas.

Their relationship had been one of mutual respect and understanding. Cornelia had always supported Caesar’s leadership, offering wise counsel and a steady presence. She understood the burdens he carried and stood by him through the many trials they faced. Though their bond was not one of passionate love, it was built on a foundation of trust and shared responsibility.

She bore him twin sons, Blue Eyes and Cornelius. The birth of his sons was a moment of joy, but it was also marked by profound sorrow, as Cornelia did not survive the ordeal. Twins amongst chimpanzees were extremely rare as well as extremely dangerous for the mother. It was a surprise marked with excitement and dread, both parents knowing the cost it may have.

Caesar mourned for her deeply, not just for the loss of a companion, but for the future they might have shared. Her death left a void in his heart, a reminder of the fragility of life and the sacrifices made in the name of survival. Now, with the weight of leadership pressing down on him, Caesar faced the expectation to find another mate. Yet, he had no desire to choose from among the apes in his colony. His heart was not ready to open again, and the memories of his human upbringing made the prospect even more complicated; those feelings and desires that have chased him his entire life resurfacing.

He twisted around to glance inside his hut to see both his sons still fast asleep. They were curled around each other, Cornelius’ head tucked up beneath Blue Eyes' chin. Caesar felt a pang of longing. He wanted to give them the same warmth and security he had known as a child. The legacy of his father, the human who had raised him, loomed large in his mind. A legacy of love and understanding, one that he hoped to pass on to Blue Eyes and Cornelius, even as he navigated the complexities of his own heart.

He doesn’t picture ever being able to bring another female into his life like he did their mother, there being no foundation of attraction or desire, nor a mutual respect like he and Cornelia did. Yet, he knew that for the sake of his sons and his people, he would need to find a way to reconcile his past with the future that lay ahead. Eventually, he will have to find another mate… a Queen like the colony deserves… and a mother like his sons deserve.

Caesar watched the sun continue to rise above the canopy of trees, lost in his never-ending thoughts. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant calls of birds provided a soothing backdrop to his reflections.

Suddenly, a familiar presence approached from behind, taking a seat beside him. Rocket looks sideways at him with a kind smile, and Caesar returns it, lifting his arm to place it around his friend’s shoulders.

“Thinking about the past again?” Rocket signs.

Caesar nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he turned away to look over the trees once more. Rocket had a way of lightening the mood, even in the heaviest of moments.

“You know, it’s been a couple of winters since Cornelia…” He hesitated, then continued with a teasing grin. “Maybe it’s time you found someone new?”

Caesar’s smile faded slightly. He appreciated Rocket’s concern, but the idea of going through the process of finding another mate felt distant and unappealing. He signed back, his movements deliberate and calm.

“I’m not interested, Rocket.”

Rocket raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. He signed back with exaggerated gestures, trying to coax a different response.

“Come on, there are plenty of females in the colony. Strong, kind, beautiful…” He paused, then added with a gleam in his eye, “And they all admire you.”

Caesar shook his head, his expression serious. He appreciated Rocket’s efforts, but his heart wasn’t in it. He signed slowly, choosing his words carefully.

“I’m well over Cornelia. It’s not about her. I just… don’t feel that way about anyone here.”

Rocket’s playful demeanor shifted to one of concern. He signed back, his movements slower and more thoughtful.

“But why? What’s wrong?”

Caesar hesitated. He knew Rocket wouldn’t understand the full depth of his feelings, the complex mix of his human thoughts and desires, and the expectations of his role as leader. It is not something he thinks he can repress twice over. He signed back, his movements gentle but firm.

“It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

Rocket looked at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. He didn’t push further, sensing that this was a boundary Caesar wasn’t ready to cross. Instead, he offered a supportive smile and signed back.

“Alright, my friend. Just know that we’re here for you, no matter what… If you ever have certain needs…. Without wanting a mate, we can work something out.”

Caesar nodded, grateful for Rocket’s understanding, and amused at the irony of his suggestion. As his friend turned to leave, Caesar grunted. His time of reflection has ended, and the quest to begin the day's chores is soon to begin.

Caesar walked into the colony, where the other apes were busy with their daily tasks. The air was filled with the sounds of chatter and activity, indicative of the thriving community they had built. Caesar felt proud as he observed their bustling life. As he navigated through the colony, he received respect and admiration from those he passed. The apes looked up to him not just as their leader, but as a symbol of hope and promise for their future. He paused by the central fire, where Maurice was tending to the flames.

“Caesar, you seem troubled this morning.”

Caesar sighed, sitting down beside Maurice. He had never spoken outright about his ‘problem’, but he had a strong suspicion that Maurice already had a general idea. He had seen the way Caesar had looked at human women, and he had been the one Caesar spoke to about his frustration with ape mating rituals. The orangutan was wise and perceptive, sometimes a bit more so than Caesar would like. But at a time like this, having a friend to speak with about his problem, however discreet it was the way they spoke, it brought on some relief. He signed slowly, his movements reflecting the weight of his thoughts.

“Rocket thinks I should find another mate. He doesn’t understand why I can’t.”

Maurice nodded, his eyes filled with an understanding deeper than another ape would reflect about this issue. He signed back, his gestures calm and reassuring, speaking prudently just as Caesar did.

“It’s not easy to move on from the past. But sometimes you must follow your heart, Caesar, despite how you may think it will look to others.”

Caesar felt a relief wash over him unlike any other he’d felt before. Hearing his dear friend’s indirect approval and understanding helped distinguish the guilt and disgust he’s felt towards himself since coming to the woods.

“Thank you, Maurice. I know I will never be able to act on my feelings, but hearing your words of acceptance brings me relief.”

Maurice smiled, placing a hand on Caesar’s shoulder. The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over them. At that moment, Caesar felt a sense of peace. He knew that the journey ahead would be challenging, but he was not alone. This was something he could get past. He has matured very much through the years, he is capable of putting his desires behind him for the sake of his sons and his people.

The tranquility of the moment was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Koba’s scouting party. The group of apes, led by Koba’s most trusted scouts, moved swiftly through the colony. Caesar and Maurice exchanged a glance before rising to meet them.

The lead scout, a burly ape named Grey, signed quickly, his movements sharp and precise.

“Caesar, we found something. A small human camp, not far from here.”

Caesar’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing. The presence of humans so close to their territory was a cause for concern. They hadn’t seen humans nearby for several winters now, and who knew what they were up to… He turned to Rocket, who had just joined them, his expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

“Rocket, find Koba. We need to check this out. Gather a small group. We leave immediately.”

Rocket nodded, his playful demeanor replaced by his serious resolve. He signed back.

“Understood. I’ll get the others.”

As Rocket moved to assemble the team, Caesar turned back to Grey.

“Tell me more about this camp. How many humans? What are they doing?”

Grey signed back, his gestures deliberate.

“There are only a few men, one woman. They seem to be setting up a temporary shelter. We didn’t get too close, but it looks like they might be staying for a while.”

Caesar nodded. The presence of humans so close to their territory could mean many things, and he needed to understand their intentions. He turned to Maurice, who had been listening quietly.

“Maurice, keep an eye on the colony while we’re gone. Make sure everyone stays alert.”

Maurice nodded, his expression serious.

“Be careful, Caesar.”

With a final nod, Caesar turned to join Rocket and the others.

Thank you all so much for reading! I have much planned for this story and I hope to keep this inspiration train rolling! You all would be much help to get it to continue, by showing your support. If you would like me to make a tag list just let me know and I can definitely make that happen. I'm very excited to kick start this story!

#caesar pota #planet of the apes #caesar planet of the apes #ape culture #rocket pota #caesar x reader #caesar x human reader #pota fanfic

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byerseason · 2 months ago

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stranger things fandom is the only place on earth where people watch a found family trope and see literal step siblings that the show keeps highlighting and say “i think will doesn’t like eleven” and it’s all because he didn’t sacrifice himself for el yet.

el lying about her entire life is silly and cute but will *lying* (yes, they say that) about helping el fix her project is horrible. and will was the one saying she shouldn’t be lying to mike.

mike changing the entire topic in rinkomania and yapping about will rolling his eyes isn’t a problem, but will responding with “what about us?” is the most selfish thing ever.

will saying “we’re her brothers and we’re family” doesn’t mean anything because he just had to save the situation. he deeply hates her.

will being the only one asking if she is okay and almost crying doesn’t mean anything because that was probably just millie and noah’s bond.

will is the worst for not keeping mike and el’s relationship in check and not letting mike know about everything in el’s life.

he is the worst for not being a saint and knowing el was lying to mike for months.

he is also so selfish for expecting the bare minimum from his life long best friend which is just being best friends again and not being ignored.

he is so annoying for not being able to let go of his childhood after losing it with horrible traumas and expecting his friends to give him a SINGLE day. but mike ditching all his friends for the entire summer is cute.

it doesn’t mean anything when everyone ignored dustin but will, because he probably just wanted to play games.

he is also a horrible person for not standing up against el’s bullies after being bullied for who he is for his entire life, by his entire town and school and even biological father.

and also, him brutally sacrificing his feelings for mike and el’s relationship doesn’t mean he loves el because he only did that for himself.

in conclusion, every character is allowed to do every wrong until it’s will byers who is the closest to being perfect.

#byler #will byers

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imtryingbuck · 1 year ago

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Pebbles

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Summary: you tell Nat something (great at summaries I know)

Word count: 842

Warnings: angst with fluff. mentions of cheating (readers ex) Nat being in love with reader. pregnancy. protective avengers. heavy use of pet names

Translation: любит - loves (if wrong let me know please)

Masterlist

Running all the way to Nat’s room, managing to slip past everyone who tries to get a hold of you, concern filling their eyes.

All you need is Nat. Nat will make everything better, you was sure of it.

Knocking on the door to her room you bounce on your heels for her to hurry up and answer.

You was about to knock again when her door answered.

“Y-Y/n, what’s happened? Come here”

“I need to tell you something”

“Anything baby you know this”. She says as she moves the hair away from your face.

"I know I could trust you so I came here." You say with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Sweetheart you can, please finish what you were saying”. Nat’s heart breaks at the sight of your tears, wishing she could stop them from falling.

“Adam’s-“ Nat’s jaw clenched at the name of your ex who stupidly let go of the best thing he was ever going to have in his worthless life “new girlfriend messaged me saying that her and him were sleeping together for two months before I walked in on them, an-and she said its my fault that they keep arguing. Natty I’ve n-not done anythi-anything wr-wr-wr-“

“Baby breathe, oh Y/n breathe with me” Even with her green eyes focused on your trembling body she could see your twos friends at the door. She could feel the anger coming from them.

They’ve known you for as long as they’ve known Pepper, her being your auntie who’s raised you since you were a kid, introduced you to everyone. Straight away after Nat met you she had a crush and everyone knew it, even Pepper. She was devastated when she found out you had a boyfriend.

“I-I’m so-sorry Natty”

“No printsessa don’t apologise, its not your fault”

“Sh-she said he knows about Pebbles b-but Natty she called Pebble a bast-“

“It’s okay baby, it’s going to be alri-“

“What if he tries to take Pebble away from us?”

She smirked, silently daring him to take their Pebbles away from them. Just so she could finally do what she promised you she wouldn’t do.

Natasha had found you crying in your room that Tony had given you for whenever you wanted to stay at the tower. You told her that you had walked in on Adam having sex with a woman in your bed, and then you dropped another bomb on her. You was pregnant. You had found out a week before, you hadn’t gotten around to tell him as you was still working on the gift you was going to give him.

Angry Nat scared a lot of people, Nat on a war path? terrified everyone including the Avengers.

Her heart and mind were at loggerheads with what you had just told her. Her heart told her hold you tight and reassure you everything was going to be okay. Her mind went straight to murder.

Reluctantly she listened to her heart, holding you long after you pasted out. Whispering promises that she’ll help you raise the baby.

It had been two months since she gained the courage to ask you out, and as the weeks go by during your pregnancy she reminds you that she’s here and she’s never leaving her любит.

Everyone closest to you didn’t bat an eye or care that she was willing to help you raise a baby that wasn’t biologically hers because to them Pebbles - the name given by Morgan - was Natasha’s, no matter what.

And if your ex wanted to try and take the baby it would be the most dumbest thing he would ever do. They will protect their family at all cost.

“He’s not going to angel I promise!” Nat says as she holds you tighter.

“He’ll have to get through all of us first sweet girl” Tony says as he comes in to the room, followed by the rest.

“When did she send you the messages Y/n/n?” Wanda questions.

Pulling away from Nat you looked down at your small bump “two weeks ago-I’m so sorry Natty”

“It’s okay, but why didn’t you tell me love?”

“I thought I could handle it myself, i didn’t reply to anything she said thinking she would just leave me alone but she won’t” You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, causing Nat to pull your hand away.

“You’re so tired aren’t you?” She watches as you nod, yawing at the same time “come, let’s get you into bed okay baby?”

“B-but his girlf-“

“I’ll deal with it, I promise. Now please sleep. I love you”.

“I love you too Natty” you mumble and as soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re in dreamland.

Nat kept her promise by dealing with your exes girlfriend, no more messages were sent to you and Adam didn’t try and take Pebbles away.

Giving birth to a healthy baby girl, Nat continued to keep her promise by sticking by you.

Alisa Pebbles Romanoff was truly spoilt by both of her mamas.

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

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sandypelo · 2 years ago

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one piece made me realize how good the found family trope is,,there r so many found families in op that ican’t even fit them all if i wanted to.liek the way one piece masters the concept of “you can find your family anywhere”. if u love the found family trope and havent watched one piece literaly what are u doing

one piece shows that you can still find your family even when you lose yours,, you arent forced to consider biological family your real family.sanji abandoning his terrible abusive biological family and finding zeff, and later joining the straw hats,, robin watching her mother and her community dying in front of her, having sauls parting words be that she will one day find friends who truly care about her,,years later meeting the straw hats, who literally declared war on the world to save her and would do it again,, law also saw his family and community die before his eyes and became consumed with hate ,,doflamingo found him and spent 3 years manipulating him and trying to mold him into a monster ,which then corazon takes law after hearing that law carries the will of d,,law and cora grow a bond , cora doing anything to save the terminally ill boy and protecting him from the hands of doflamingo,,when cora dies, law is determined to avenge his death, and he commemorates him through every single thing he does,, law learns that there was never a reason corazon loved him,and that you cant stick a reason to why somebody loves you

found family in one piece is important cuz it shows that a family can be anything. theres no such thing as to what a family is supposed to look like,, it represents many of the reasons why found family comes to be. loss, abuse, bonds,,your family is just people that genuinely respect and care about you

the lesson here is that the found family trope solos and one piece is goated

#one piece #found family #found family trope #straw hat pirates #asl brothers #whitebeard pirates #heart pirates #akazaya nine #law and corazon #nami #nojiko one piece #bellmere one piece #dr kureha #tony tony chopper #franky one piece #sanji

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fairiesdowntheroad · 1 year ago

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SHE LOVES CONTROL ; prologue.

summary — being a woman is difficult.what about being a woman who is pursuing a career in motorsports? you would be met with pandemonium.that was the story of her life.always having to fight for a place among the big leagues ; in this case the men just to prove she belonged in the sport.

her last name didn’t help her much either.the world would continue to bark and bite away at her confidence — even more so if they knew of her family ties.that was the reason why she chose to race under a different name,everyone would respect her so called “underdog” story after all.

the drivers were….alright to say the least.she knew of their prying eyes and judging stares when she had first made her appearance on the grid.thankfully,there were a few diamonds in the rough to help her out.for now,she just needed to prove herself to everyone ; quench her hunger for victory.this was going to be a wild season..

pairing — f1 22-23 grid x fem driver!reader,love interest tbd

warnings — misogyny.

teaser | prologue | chapter 1

FROM J ⛅️ : hello everyone!! the prologue is here <3 it’s just a little teaser to Y/N and her character,also her friendship with albonoooo 😮‍💨 she’ll interact with the other drivers soon,don’t worry! please lmk your thoughts and if you want to be added to the taglist!

“Who run the world? Girls! Y/N Y/LN to race for Formula 1 — establishing her place as the first woman to race in the big leagues since Maria Teresa de Filippis”

“Do women really belong in Motorsport? What makes Y/N Y/LN so special?”

“A recipe for disaster: Y/N Y/LN’s Formula 1 debut and what it could mean for the future of motorsport”

Headline after headline.

Articles either criticising her every move or stating their unwavering support for her.

She read each and every article published about the news — eager to know how the world would react.A part of her already made peace with the reality that there would be people reacting terribly towards the news ; let it be a man or woman.The men simply viewed her inferior to the other drivers,commenting on how her biological capabilities were “leagues away” from the other nineteen…..just because of what was between her legs.The women on the other hand were possesive…thinking she would steal away their beloved drivers because she definetly was the only female presence on the paddock.

It was humorous really,how a mere woman wanting her career to align with motorsports could cause such an uprise of reactions among everyone.

Her eyes scanned over the headlines again and again.Laughing at the things they had to say.She found the articles scrutinising her every move amusing — it was ironic how they perceived her as ‘unworthy’ of a seat.

Yet,she did beat everyone else in Formula 2 in terms of points…claiming her place as the champion.

Becoming the champion of Formula 2 was a tough fight.She had stayed there for a few years,giving it her all to stand above all with victory — and she did in the end.Did they hate her because she was victorious? Or was it because she had rightfully earned her place among the others? She would never know..not like she wanted to anyway.

“You haven’t even had your debut,yet you’re causing an uproar on the internet” he hummed in amusement standing next to her while he observed her reading the words on her phone.His british accent was hard to miss as she chuckled along with him.“I think it’s admirable” Alex added on with his voice filled with sincerity.A bashful smile made its way on her face,flattered and touched by his words.

“That makes me a little more hungry to prove to everyone I belong here” she admitted with a chuckle.She was eternally grateful for the little support she had coming from him and her family…though she was more discreet when it came to the family part.He placed a hand on her shoulder squeezing it softly.

“You will.” he nodded his head,patting her back before making his way to the car.Her nerves buzzed with excitement ; her last race as a reserve driver.A few more months,and that seat would be hers.She felt remorseful for Latifi because he lost his seat…but it would be her turn to take on the mantle now.She would take his place since he didn’t perform.

That was Formula 1.

A sport dependant on results.If you didn’t deliver, it was best to kiss your seat goodbye.She could only cross her fingers and pray the 2023 season was kind to her.She needed the team to see her results….see her effort.There was no way she worked her ass off just to quit now.Thankfully,James Vowles was there to see her worth.She had caught his eye — he was watching her races in Formula 2,undoubtedly raising his expectations with the performance she served on the track.

It was only a matter of time until she was offered a seat,he was unwilling to let such talent go to waste.

Williams.

Not her first choice for a team when it came to making her debut but — she was eternally grateful she had a seat regardless.It was also a step closer to Mercedes….even if she didn’t want aim to race with them.

Not when he would be there.

BAHRAIN 23’ : THURSDAY.

“How do you feel about making your Formula 1 debut this Sunday?” the reporter asked curiously as he jotted down notes in his journal.The two RedBull drivers on her left and right turned their heads to observe her,eager to know what she had to say.

“It’s definitely nerve wracking — I’m feeling quite nervous to be honest” she admitted with a shy smile.Max and Checo chuckled softly at her words,the 2-time world champion nodding in understanding on how she would feel.

“But…I feel excited as well.I want to prove to everyone that I deserve to be here just as much as the others.With Williams and Alex supporting me,I hope I can do exactly that” she finished her sentence,putting down the mic as fans clapped at her answer.It was diplomatic ; she was biting her tongue and choosing not to express her true feelings.

If she had the right to be a 100% honest there would be a lot more of….colourful words being spoken.

The fans were definetly a plot twist.Hearing them cheer for her was heartwarming.She still did recieve her fair share of hate,but she would “focus on the positives” — just like dad advised.He was all the wiser when it came to motorsports anyway.

”Well Y/N,I hope the season treats you well.You’ve already made a name for yourself so I’m sure all will go smoothly”the reporter replied to her,the girl smiling bashfully and thanking him for his kind wishes.

The press conference ended after a few more questions being thrown here and there.She walked over to the managers with a pep to her step while maintaining the calm expression on her face….even if her heart felt like it was about to burst.Alex stood there as well with small smile gracing his face.Her first press conference as a Formula 1 Driver! It was a milestone to her.

“You did amazing” Thea — her newly appointed PR Manager said with a smile.She chuckled softly,taking the water bottle she was offered with for a sip.Her heart screamed with excitement,adrenaline coursing through her veins even if it was only Thursday.There were three more days for her to impress everyone.

She shaked off her train of thoughts with a smile.Opening her mouth,she answered with a cheeky response.

“I hope I can do the same on-track then”

taglist — @eutrizbea @eugene-emt-roe @ivoryluvs @itsjustkhaos @lewisvinga @kodzuvk @roseseraj @iliyad @laura-naruto-fan1998 @l0verl4ne

#formula one #f1 fic #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #lando norris x reader #alex albon x reader #george russell x reader #oscar piastri x reader #carlos sainz x reader #pierre gasly x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader

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nthspecialll · 5 months ago

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Camp is my favourite place of them all, especially in chapter two and three but every now and then I can't stand being there because all I can think about is their future, how they will hate each other, how they will lash out, how they will be split, how they will die.

I will look at Javier playing his guitar around the campfire with a smile on his face, and think about how in the end he will have his life taken by the man he considered his best friend even after they both desperately tried to avoid it.

I will look at John sitting on the ground behind his tent, carving some figure out of wood, and think about how he did all he was told to protect his family, yet in the end, he was still shot like a dirty dog in the backyard.

I will look at Molly sitting in her and her lovers tent, quietly reading to herself, and think about how she will be shot dead merely because she loved.

I will look at Hosea reading the newspapers every morning without fail and think about how he had to watch as the man he considered his partner slowly fall apart and in the end get him killed.

I will look at Lenny eating his soup next to the man who called him his son, and think about how they will die not even an hour apart and be buried right where they wanted to be, next to a friend.

I will look at Dutch standing and talking about greatness and all the promises he has made, and think about all the people he has hurt and has yet to hurt, how he doomed them all.

I will look at Sean singing by the campfire about the land he loves so much, and think about how other than Arthur he was the only one to notice that the job was wrong yet he was the one who payed for it with a shot to the head.

I will look at Kieran standing by himself as he brushes the horses, and think about how he was worried about straying too far away because the O'Driscolls might find him and how that was exactly what happened because he didn't feel safe in camp either.

I will look at Bill listening to the stories told by his friends and think about how all he ever wanted was Dutch's approval and how he didn't even get it in the end.

I will look at Abigail caring for her son, worrying if she will have enough money to clothe him, and think about how she will have to wander the farm her husband built just for her without him by her side for three years before dying of the same as her brother in law who had saved her family.

I will look at Karen who at 10am has already found the bottom of the bottle, and think about how she will never escape that addiction that in the end will kill her.

I will look at Strauss making sure that the money is right, and think about how even when he was thrown out by Arthur, he never told on them, he never said anything, he was an old man of 60 something years who got beaten to death protecting the people who had thrown him on the street.

I will look at Uncle sleeping against a tree, and think about how in the end he died surrounded by those he loved, protecting them with his life.

I will look at Susan sitting all alone, sewing a hole in some ungrateful man's clothing, and think about how she got shot and bled out in front of her old lover who didn't even bat her and eye, all because she cared for the family she used to replace the one she could never biologically have.

Even though they are still alive, I mourn them.

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drmaddict · 1 year ago

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Patchwork

Summary: Henry becomes a father... Just not how he thought it would happen.

Word count: 2.160

Warnings: mentions of domestic violence, lots of fluff

"Six?"

"Six."

"Six children?"

"Well not biologically, but.... yes."

(Y/n) looked uncertainly at Henry. The blue eyes stared at her in disbelief.

"You have six children living in your house?"

She sighed. That was always the point at which every guy ran away.

"I understand if that's too much for you," she began.

Henry shook his head still in disbelief, but grinned. "Do you ever sleep, or do you just get used to sleep deprivation?"

She smiled cautiously. Didn't trust the peace yet, though. "To be honest there are two kids one 9 and one 12 and four pubescent teenagers."

He regarded her quietly across the restaurant table. "Are you okay?" he asked, "Did I say something wrong? I know my reaction may have been a little surprised, but I didn't mean to cut you in."

She relaxed a little. "It's just... Most guys run away as soon as they hear that, and that would really be .... a shame."

Henry smiled and shook his head. "I don't run away. I hate cardio."

That made her smile.

"But you'll still have to tell me how you get to adopt six children and teenagers.... And that as a single woman in her mid-twenties."

"It's like cats. Somehow I guess it doesn't stay with just one." She tipped her wine glass. "The first one was Jason. He was the son of my neighbors at the time and would come by my apartment every so often in the afternoon until his mother got home. One night he showed up at my door bleeding. His father caught him with make up and beat him black and blue. It took a while, but then he could move in with me. He's graduating from high school this summer. He has even been accepted to a make up school. He wants to go into film as a makeup artist." She smiled softly. "He's come a long way."

Henry curtsied in shock at the story. "Fatima is 16 and has been disowned by her family for not being a virgin. She has ambitions to study law. I don't think anyone will stop her from going to Oxford. Mike is almost 16 - next week - and grew up without a father and even though his mother tried everything, she has high level schizophrenia. She has been institutionalized and now lives in care. We visit her whenever her condition allows it. Mini - Emilia ran away at some point. We don't really know what happened. She is 14. Kamon is 12 and comes from a refugee family. His parents have been sent back to Thailand. We are trying to get a visa for them. Until then, I'm kind of his foster family. He and Mike are not officially adopted. Both love their family and do everything for them, even if they can't always be there. And Lilly. She is 9. Her family died in a car accident. No family member has been found."

She was silent for a moment and continued to contemplate her wine before looking up and looking at Henry.

"Henry... I understand if this is too much, but.... they've all been through enough in their lives and every single one of them has their reasons for making it hard for new people in our family. So if, against all odds, you say yes to this circus, know that it's not so easy to get out of it either." Her gaze became insistent. "If you leave me, that's one thing, but I won't do that to the kids."

Henry, who hadn't said anything all this time, took one deep breath and reached for her hand lying on the table. He smiled. "If they're willing to meet me, so am I."

Henry stood in front of a gigantic house. His house was already big, but this one surpassed it. Despite its size, however, it didn't seem ostentatious. It looked cozy and inviting. The word 'home' popped into his head.

Shouts and frantic footsteps sounded from inside.

He pressed his thumb on the doorbell. Immediately, everything went silent.

The door opened with a jerk. A dark-skinned boy stood before him, beaming at him. From the colored eyeliner, he concluded that it must be Jason.

"Hello Mr. Cavill." he said in a noticeably loud voice.

Immediately, frantic footsteps sounded and he saw scattered bodies running through the background.

"Hi. Henry will do." he smiled.

"Come on in. I'm Jason. Ehhm... (Y/n) isn't here yet.... Mike had... They had to go to the hospital."

"Is he okay?"

Jason shrugged. "Normally, he is. Boxer you know... Tea?"

"Gladly."

He stepped into the house. It was swept as if empty, yet the traces of life could be seen in it. Self-painted pictures. Photographs. Various equipment for hobbies. Shoes in different sizes. And that was just the hallway. Henry let himself be led into the kitchen and sat down on one of the chairs. None matched the other.

"Mike had a match this morning. (Y/n) said he's already patched up. They're already on their way here."

Henry smiled. "With something like this, you should take your time."

Jason set the steaming cup down for him and sat with him.

Henry accepted it gratefully. "It's very quiet."

"Be glad." was all he said, sipping his tea. "I don't want to chase you away, but it's like human history here. The periods of absolute peace are relatively negligible." He ran his index finger over the rim of his cup and grinned. "And I'm one of the worst divas here. Just a warning."

The front door opened and a rumble sounded, followed by an amused giggle. "Sorry about that." a boy's slurred voice rang out.

"That's okay big guy. Come on off to bed." he heard (y/n).

"I'm fine!"

"That's because they drugged your ass off so you can't feel your face."

"Where's Ammy?"

"Mike you need to rest now. You can call Amber when you're in bed."

"Who are you?" A blond boy in a gray sweatshirt and swollen face looked at him from the doorway, aghast. "Who's that?" he turned to (Y/n).

"A friend Mike. That's a friend. Jason stop filming him!"

Still grinning, Jason put the phone away and turned to Henry. "Welcome."

"What's the dog's name?", Kamon asked him.

"That's Kal...like Superman." he smiled at the shy boy.

"I like Batman."

Henry rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh yeah, why?"

"Batman watches out for kids nobody else wants. Like (y/n)."

Henry smiled.

"I told you not to rummage through my things!" yelled Emilia down the hall.

Henry and (Y/n) sat in the garden each holding a book.

"I wasn't rummaging. I was getting MY eyeshadow, that you stole from MY room!" shouted back Jason. "It's not my fault you leave your lovey-dovey fanfictions lying around in the open like that!"

"You have no business in my room!"

"That being said - Tom Holland? Really?"

A splintering sound rang out.

"I guess that was the vase, then," (Y/n) sighed.

"I would have thought she was more of a Sebastian Stan type," Henry reflected loudly.

"How long has she been sitting there?" whispered Henry to (Y/n).

"Since this morning. She hasn't looked up from that book in five hours."

Fatima sat at the large parlor table surrounded by books, writing notes and index cards.

"That's impressive. Scary, but impressive."

Kal walked over to the table and nudged her.

"I have to study! Sit!" Kal obeyed immediately and sat next to her chair.

"She'd make a good drill sergeant," Henry grinned.

(Y/n) sipped her coffee. "You've never seen her in exam stress."

"This isn't exam stress?"

"This is relaxed studying."

Henry looked in shock at the girl with noise cancelling headphones. (Y/n) grinned into her cup.

"They need more glitter!" determined Lilly.

Henry reached for the can of edible glitter and sprinkled more of it on the unicorn cookies.

"Like this?"

The little girl looked thoughtfully at the tin. "Like this."

Henry bowed theatrically and slid the tin into the oven. "All for your majesty." The girl giggled.

(Y/n) just watched with a smile.

Jason and Mike sat on the sofa grinning together at a tablet, each with headphones in their ears.

This wasn't normal. Even Henry knew that by now. He wondered if they were both watching porn. He'd been that age once, too. He knew what that was like.

(Y/n) came into the living room and looked over there shoulders at the two of them. She laughed uncontrollably grunting, but immediately suppressed it and came over to him.

No porn, he concluded.

"What about these two?" asked Henry, pulling her to him on the sofa and onto his lap.

"Just a movie," she grinned.

"What movie?"

She continued to shake her head with a grin and waved it off. Henry was very reluctant to be shut out. So he sat (y/n) down next to him on the sofa and stood behind the two teenagers. When he saw his younger self in a black hoodie grinning and holding up a tarot card, he groaned in annoyance.

The boys snorted indignantly. Henry looked defiantly at the display.

"Oh come on Sweet Cheeks! What's wrong?" asked (Y/n) with a laugh.

He looked at her with an intensity that promised she would pay for this yet. She could hardly wait.

"What's with the hair?" laughed Jason.

"It was in back then!"

Henry stood in the kitchen making coffee while there was the familiar bustle around him. Kamon couldn't find his second shoe, Lilly needed a certain T-shirt, Jason occupied the bathroom, Mike shoveled eggs into his mouth, Fatima just drank the coffee straight out of the pot, and Emilia hid behind a book.

He could hardly believe that over a year should have passed already.

They had grown close to his heart. He didn't want to miss the chaos at all. The last time he left for a job, it seemed almost eerie how quiet it was that night. He had told (y/n) about it over Skype. She'd just grinned and said those feelings liked to sneak up on one.

"Do you think they want me in their life?" he had asked her uncertainly.

She had only smiled. "Wait a minute." She disappeared and came back a moment later with a piece of paper. She held it up to the camera. "Lilly drew this for you today." It showed eight roughly drawn people. Under each one, in capital letters, was the name.... except for (y/n) and him. It just said Mum and Paps. Henry stared wide-eyed at the screen. "Please act surprised when you come back. It's supposed to be a gift.", she put the paper back down. "Are you crying?"

Henry had remained silent. He had only nodded.

He smiled at the memory. The picture hung framed in the hallway. It had become Henry's favorite picture.

"Car one go!", (y/n) called down the stairs.

The three mismatched teens got up from the table and walked to (y/n)s car.

Henry packed the last of the snacks into Lilly and Kamon's lunchboxes before he, too, packed them into his cat and drove them to school. Jason had a little break from make up school and stayed at home.

Henry came back earlier than (y/n). He waited patiently for her in the kitchen. Looked at the mismatched chairs and the photos on the wall. Photos that now included him. (Y/n) came shortly after him and dropped into her usual seat next to him. She reached for the waiting cup of coffee and dropped her head on his shoulder. "How did I do this alone before?"

Henry laughed.

"I mean it. Don't you dare leave! I can't take it anymore!"

Henry just smiled at her. He got up from his chair and knelt down in front of her. He pulled a small box out of his pocket and held it in front of him. "I wouldn't want to spend the rest of my life anywhere but with you and the kids. (Y/n) will you marry me?"

She looked at him with shocked eyes. "Are you sure?"

He nodded with a smile. "I want to take Lilly to her dance lessons. I want to be there when Jason gets his first jobs. I want to see Fatima come top of her year at Oxford - in law AND medicine." They both laughed. "I want to cheer Mike on in his competitions. I want to watch Emilia find the romance she secretly wants. I even want my heart to break when Kamon is reunited with his parents. I want to be with you. I want to be with the children. I don't want to run away. I want to be part of this family."

"You already are," she smiled, crying. She pulled him close and kissed him.

"Does that mean yes?" he grinned.

"Yes you idiot." she laughed.

#henry cavil x y/n #henry cavil x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill fluff #fluffy #fluff #henry cavill x you

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 7 months ago

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hii I JUST LOVE YOUR WORK i stay and read them every day tbh, it's my first time requesting so I'm a lil nervous (also english isn't my first language so if i write too tangled things don't mind please) yandere disease has been corrupting my mind lately like this disease has taken over the world and now people are divided in two types: yanderes and darlings. Every darling is forced to stay with their yanderes by their parents and government when they turn 20 , like goverment has been taking care of yanderes too much, there's territories and special occasions where yanderes can meet darlings, if darling tries to escape people are just gonna drag them to their "soulmate" otherwise they think darling are too weak and fragile to protect themselves.

If you're too busy, just ignore this. I also know how hard it is to write. Hope you're doing good💗💗

Your English is perfect ❤️ better than some native speakers' ❤️ I'm sorry this took so long, I hope you enjoy!!

Yandere!Fiance x GN!Reader

There were conspiracy theories as to how it happened.

Populations around the globe had declined dramatically, worrying nearly every country in every continent. The most popular theory online was that to combat the rapidly declining birth rate, one (or more) of the suffering countries conspired to create a new kind of biological warfare; an illness directed at their own people to foster relations. Unfortunately, while half of people were naturally immune to the attack, the other half were affected too much.

It was just a theory. Nothing could be proved. No government wanted to get to the bottom of the "attack" because their economies were booming; who would want to rid people of an illness that drove the rate of divorce to an all time low? It didn't matter if there were a few hiccups along the way.. As long as people were pushing out more babies, governments across the planet were more than happy to just create new laws to keep the death rates minimal ensure happiness amongst couples.

(Reader) prayed on their knees like fanatic, begging any God that may be listening, for years that they could be one of the Lovers instead of a Darling. They were terrified of the idea of becoming someone's Darling; becoming a prisoner to a loving murderer. No matter how perfect each family unit seemed to be, the young adult could see it in their father's eyes, the longing for the outside world, away from their mother. The suffocating love their mother drowned him in; the almost unnoticeable quiver to his smile.. (Reader) wished upon every single star in the sky that they could fall madly in love with someone, just so they didn't have to live through the rose tinted hell their father did.

But every crush they had was normal, none of the guys they thought were cute in highschool awakened some kind instinct in them. Eventually (Reader) turned 19 years old, and found out that they were engaged.

"To who??" (Reader) nearly barfed onto the dinner table. Their parents sat across from them, smiling happily from the good news they had just delivered to their child.

"He went to the same elementary school as you! Isn't that romantic?" Their mother cooed, poking her husband while doing so. "Apparently he's known since forever that you two are soul mates, but he's been too shy until recently to approach the Family Planning Bureau about his feelings~"

(Reader) gripped their thighs under the table while their eyes stung from the blossoming tears. ".. Do I have to meet him?" They asked quietly.

Although the building was painted bright blue and was surrounded by a beautiful, flowery landscape, it felt like a prison with it's tall chain link fencing.

The sorrowful expression on their father's sympathetic face burned into their retina so painfully, that every time they blinked while on the bus to their first meeting with their "fiance" they could still see it. He knew just as well as (Reader) did that there was no escape.

Even the walk towards a private meeting room past other Darlings felt like a death march. (Reader) could only hope that the "electric chair" wouldn't be too painful.

The kind guard opened a door, and a young man they did not recognize sitting inside immediately stood up, his face bright red.

His freckled and bespectacled face was almost hidden by his wavy, unbrushed hair. A smile stretched sweetly across his round cheeks, and (Reader) noticed that his blush went down his neck. "Ah- (Reader)! It's nice to- it's nice to meet you!"

It didn't matter that he was incredibly adorable: (Reader) was determined not to let their guard down.

"You said we went to elementary school together?"

"Yes-"

"-I'm sorry, but I don't remember you." They interrupted him, curt and to the point.

Instead of looking offended, his eyes softened and his smile became (somehow) warmer. "I'm sorry." He motioned to a seat near the table he was just sitting at. "I can explain everything.. if you give me a chance."

Reluctantly, (Reader) sat across from him. It was hard to deny that he was attractive, really being their ideal man, but they continuously bit the inside of their cheek to prevent themselves from feeling any sort of positive emotion. They knew better than to fall into this trap.

"My name is Anthony." His freckles almost disappeared entirely under his blush. "I'm sorry I never had the confidence to approach you.."

"Huh?" The confused teen forgot to hold their tongue. "Isn't it, like, frowned upon to talk to your Darling before registering with the bureau?"

Anthony rubbed his hands together nervously. "I - I really didn't want you to meet me this way.." He sucked in air between his teeth, looking faint. "I.. Do you believe in true love?"

A pang shot through (Reader's) heart. They remembered every time they would chase a crush, yearning for something true and genuine. Reading love stories from the days before the bureau, and wondering if that was what love was really like once upon a time. "No."

He sighed sadly. "I believe.. or at least, I want to believe in true love." Anthony sat straighter, staring into (Reader's) eyes with a shaky confidence. "I should have asked you out when I first met you in the fifth grade. I'm sorry I was too nervous to talk to you back then."

Vibrating adrenaline shook their system as they tried to make sense of what this stranger was saying.

"I wanted to ask you out, and take you on dates, and get to know you like in the old days."

"Why didn't you?"

His head fell slightly, obscuring his face entirely. "I thought that my feelings for you weren't strong enough.."

(Reader) suddenly felt as though they were connected with Anthony on a spiritual level; as though he was the only person in the whole world to understand them. The need for love, conflicting with the fear of not being a Lover, being destined to be labeled as a Darling. "Are you.." (Reader) dropped their voice to a whisper, "are you a lover?"

Sorrow filled Anthony's figure. Shoulders slumped, and back shuddering under his uneven, heavy breaths. "Would you report me if I wasn't?"

It was as if God had finally answered (Reader's) prayers. Their heart was racing; their head felt lighter than a cloud. Stuttering over their words, the young adult had to avert their gaze. "I don't remember you.. but I wouldn't mind getting to know you." Even though they didn't love him, Anthony felt like their one and only chance to fall in love naturally. To not be trapped like their father.

"Then.. I can see you again?"

(Reader) smiled. "Yeah.."

....

The second (Reader) left the room, Anthony's head hit the table with a loud bang.

It felt like he was going to vomit with how excited he was, and he couldn't contain his giggles any longer. Being in the same room as his childhood love was almost too much for him, and he almost ruined everything.

Anthony had worked so hard to make (Reader) love him.

He knew they liked shy, nerdy types, so he morphed into that. Destroying his eye sight so he could wear glasses, growing out his hair so he could always look slightly dishevelled, biting his tongue until it bled to force himself to stay in character.

Tears pooled around his nose on the table. He was smarter than the Lovers that made his precious (Reader) scared to be a Darling.

"I'm so happy..~" Anthony sobbed loudly in the empty room. "Please fall in love with me quickly~ Although, I don't mind waiting on you forever.. I want you to love me now..!"

#yandere #yandere x reader #gn reader #thank you for interacting with me #sorry it took so long #yandere fiance #yandere oc #cw manipulation

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maddascanbe-blog · 6 months ago

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Huh, I expected to get my drawing of Teen Zoé done for the redesigns first. Oh well... Only Kwami-swaps of the Lifeswap AU!

Meet Amaranth and Cerastes!

For no reason at all I decided to give Swap-Zoé long hair and Swap-Chloé shorter hair. Which is the exact opposite of my normal redesigns for them.

André won the custody battle for Zoé, and put his best foot forward into raising her and Chloé. Zoé is similar to how she is in cannon, late season 5. But she still learned how to mirror people, convincing them to lower their guard around her. She is a politicians daughter after all, and having people on your side is most important when convincing people to follow you. Zoé ultimately wants to do good for Paris, and is good friends with Ivan and the other members of Kitty section due to their activist mindsets.

Zoé's biggest fear is the secret of her being not André's biological daughter coming to light. He told her when she was 13 because he worried her biological father might try and regain custody in order to extort André for money. He made it clear in no uncertain terms that she is Zoé Bourgeois, the youngest of the family, Chloé's sister, and his daughter.

While she is happy André won't give her up for anything, she finds a new resentment for Audrey. And lives in fear this will harm her father's reputation, change how her relationship with her sister works, and effect how her friends see her, should it ever come to light.

Chloé's know for years that Zoé was the result of Audrey's cheating, she knew that one of the contentions during the divorce was that Audrey was barely in Paris the entire first 2 years of Chloé's life. The math didn't math, so she pieced together the truth. This only added fuel to her burning hatred for Audrey, Zoé is her little sister.

As Amaranth, Zoé makes her voice Heard! There is no stopping her once she's set her mind to it. I based her outfit on a womens power suit, and those asymmetrically colored biker jackets.

Juleka meanwhile, grew up with Anarka. She remembered her brother from when they were little, and is a tad horrified at who he's grown up to be. With Luka gone, Juleka lost her spark and her voice. She almost never talks, and doesn't stand up for anything. She just goes through the motions most days. Anarka tried to bring that light back to her daughters eyes, but every step forward has two steps back taken by Juleka's bullies. Being a quiet kid, who's mom can't keep a job, wears hand me downs, and whose dad ran off didn't leave much to be desired when it came to options of being harrassed.

Finally Anarka broke and asked Jagged to let the twins reunite. She hoped this might be a chance for Juleka to find herself again. And while Luka had changed too much from her caring and strong twin, she did find Zoé, Marinette, Adrien, and the members of Kitty Section.

Do you remember Juleka helping Zoé dye her hair in Sole Crusher? Well this time it happens in reverse. After getting comfortable with the group, she approaches Zoé about getting her hair colored. Naturally, Zoé's gotta help her girly out.

After Luka is deemed no longer suitable to be a miraculous holder, Ladybug and Chat Noir decide to give Juleka a chance. Cerastes isn't flashy, or confident. She's stealthy, sharp, and attentive.

Juleka's spent years just adapting to new situations and learning to read people for the sake of surviving, and it comes in handy when it comes to figuring out Akuma's.

Unshockingly, Luka isn't happy to see his miraculous used by someone else, though it does take a while to get there since Cerastes doesn't even get properly seen for ages. She's very good at disappearing.

Anarka is so relieved that Juleka finally found her people, that she's even willing to stay in Paris to keep her close to her friends. She still struggles to keep a normal job, but anything to see her little girl smile again.

#Lifeswap Au #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanart #tiger miraculous #zoé lee #kwami swap #juleka couffaine

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prentissluvr · 1 year ago

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too cold — joel (and tommy) miller

gn!reader , (future)fatherfigure!joel (and tommy tbh) , takes place a year or two after joel and ellie settle in jackson , reader is in their mid/late teens , hurt/comfort, angst , cw : brief mentions of loss of friends and family, hypothermia , wc : 3.8K , special thanks to @piggyjeans for reading this for me and motivating me to wrap up this part and get it out to you guys !! <333

at this point, you’re beginning to wonder why you even try. you wonder if there’s a point when the scraps of any family you had left, found or biological, are long gone and you’re on the brink of freezing to death yourself. you managed a fire last night, but you’re shivering beyond control even in the daylight with your sore lack of a real coat. wherever you are, it’s cold as hell and winter is setting in far faster than you could ever combat. essentially, you’re screwed. it seems like it might snow more, there’s not a building in sight, and you’re running out of bullets and food. the cold bites at your exposed nose and takes permanent root in your bones.

night falls far too quickly, bringing the thick snow that you feared almost as much as infected or people; those you could fight, but the snow? against that you have no defense but a sputtering fire, measly shelter, and a slowly thinning sleeping bag. curled into yourself as much as you can, it takes a concerningly small amount of time for you to fall asleep.

by the time you finally come back into consciousness, the struggle to open your eyes scares you even in the muddled state of your mind. the sun is far higher than ideal; already you’ve lost precious traveling time now that your only hope is to find abandoned buildings to scavenge for supplies. and yet, the last thing you want to do is get out of your sleeping bag. it’s kept you as warm as you could be, and even now in the leftover warmth sleep, you’re all too aware of the snow that blew into the small overhand of rocks you slept underneath and the way it’s freezing temperatures will soak into your feet until it reaches every nerve of your body when you continue your trek through the forest.

but, despite that heavy question of what’s the point, there’s no way you’re going to let yourself give up and waste away in the cold without trying to save someone, even if that someone is yourself. so with every struggle, you pull your hands out from their haven in the swaths of fabric, fumbling slightly to zip open the bag and pull yourself out. you’re eternally grateful that you have gloves, but within the few minutes of packing up, the cold has already started to settle in your hands, feet, and face. begrudgingly, you swing your pack onto your shoulder and shove your hands into your pockets, looking for the most direct path to higher ground to scope out any buildings.

as you start out, it seems as though travel may not be the worst. but the thick snow from last night’s flurries and the still slowly falling flakes are quick to tire your legs from the effort, and the way that your jacket lets in too much of the numbing wind hinders your pace. you find yourself exhausted, taking moments to rest against trees that stretch into minutes, maybe longer as your mind becomes foggy and consistent shivering sets in throughout your whole body.

you stumble a bit and clumsily grab hold of the nearest tree. what the hell am i doing? you wonder. you let your whole side press against the rough surface of the tree, squeezing your eyes shut, then opening them in attempts to clear your head. but that doesn’t seem to help when you start to wonder if you’re hallucinating. just meters away your eyes land on a tall brown horse, an animal you don’t think you’ve seen outside of pictures. you stare at it in wonder for a moment, but a feeling of panic sets in when you process the fact that there’s a man sitting on the horse, a large rifle strapped across his back.

with your shaky hands you fumble around to pull out your gun, but it does you no good when the rifle is pointed at you in seconds.

despite the threat, the man’s voice isn’t harsh when he calls out to you. “’s alright. ’m not here to hurt you, alright? just drop your weapon.” without much resistance, you do as he says, seeing no other choice and feeling not an ounce of energy to fight back. within moments, he’s off the horse, one hand on its reins and the other put up in the air in a careful truce as he slowly moves closer to you. when he’s near enough that the snow doesn’t obstruct his view of your face, he can see the way that you’re shivering and the unfocused look in your eyes and can immediately notice that something’s not quite right.

“i need you to tell me if you’re infected. don’t lie now, alright? i’ll shoot you if i find out you do.” at this, his voice is more stern, stirring up a bit more fear in you. but you’re able to shake your head clearly.

“no. no, ’m not infected. haven’t run into any for days,” you speak aloud for the first time since you woke up this morning, and you don’t notice the way that your speech is slurred, but he does.

“alright, then. kid, i’m gonna get you somewhere warm, okay?” in the back of your head, you’re terrified to let him closer, to let some stranger lead you somewhere, but the promise of warmth is something you desperately need. even so, you flinch away when he’s finally right next to you and reaches out. “i promise ’m not gonna hurt ya. i’ve got somewhere safe and warm for you, you’re gonna freeze to death if you don't get some help now.” he’s completely right, you realize, so you just nod. “there ya go. do’y have a coat we can get on you?” he frowns when you shake your head, but doesn’t hesitate to unzip his own padded coat. gently, he pulls your pack off your back and sets it down. you don’t even realize what he’s doing until he shrugs his own coat over your shoulders and pulls it tight over your front. the leftover warmth from his own body is heavenly, but in the action, you lose your support against the tree and unconsciously lean into his firm frame. you don’t notice, but he stiffens at this, and his frown grows deeper when he feels how cold you are to the touch.

with strong hands, he pulls you away from him slightly. wordlessly, he guides your shivering arms into the sleeves of his coat, silently grateful for the warm jacket he still has on.

“we’ve gotta get on the horse, now.”

you just nod, letting him guide you to the tall animal. but you stop short at its side, completely unsure of how you’ll get up.

“first you put your right foot in the stirrup, right here.” you don’t have to say anything for him to begin telling you what you need to. “put your hand on the saddle here to help you up. i’m gonna hold you steady, okay?” you nod, letting him place his firm hands on your waist as you put the last of your strength into lifting one foot into the stirrup. “now you’ve gotta push up with that foot to swing your other leg over the horse.” it takes all of your concentration to understand what he says, and strength that you don’t have to actually do it. it’s messy, but thanks to his help and some miracle, you find yourself on top of the horse and putting all of your effort into staying upright.

“there ya go. i’m gonna get on in front of you, don’t you fall off now.” he quickly fastens your pack onto the horse, letting out a small grunt as he pulls himself up onto the animal. his body warmth right in front of you is precious and you don’t have it in you to feel awkward in the way he does as he pulls your arms around his torso to keep you steady. “just hold on and stay awake, alright? shouldn’t be too long til we get you warm.” once again, you just nod, knowing he can feel it with the side of your face pressed against his back.

as the horse starts forward at a decent pace, his instructions of holding on prove to be harder than ideal with your weakened grip. you don’t know how much time passes until the horse’s movement stops and the man’s voice, along with another, meets your ears.

you startle when the unfamiliar voice calls out. “joel! what took you so lon– what happened?”

“sorry, tommy.” you can feel the rumble of his voice while pressed against him, and turn your head to face the source of the other voice. “found ‘em leaning against a tree just a bit off the path. think they’ve got hypothermia.”

there’s another man on a horse, probably younger, but you can’t tell much else in the snow and the state of your mind. either way, you can’t help but read him as a danger. the man in front of you, joel, you assume, must have picked up on your fear behind him

“’s alright. that’s my brother, tommy. he’s here to help too, okay?”

another nod from you, and a “damn” from tommy.

“let’s get going, then. we’ll stay in the lookout for tonight then get them back to jackson first thing in the morning. it’ll be dark soon.”

joel agrees, and with that, you set off. every so often, his voice brings you out of your daze long enough for you to nod your head against his back when he checks if you’re still awake. your sense of time is long gone; all you know when you arrive at the mentioned lookout is a vague sense of relief.

“kid?” his voice rings out and you realize the motion of the horse has finally come to a stop. you do your best to sit up, hating the biting air that immediately hits your front now that it’s not kept warm by joel’s back. your hands stay resting absentmindedly on his shoulders in order to keep you from slipping off of the horse. “tommy’s gonna help you off, okay?” you let out a small hum of acknowledgement as tommy dismounts his horse and comes to stand beside you.

“here we go,” he gives you a small, encouraging smile as he lifts his arms up for you. “put your hands on my shoulders, and i’ll get you down safe ’n sound, alright?” it’s a bit of an awkward reach, and you begin to slip down before you have a proper grasp, but his hands are quick to secure themselves under your armpits, preventing you from falling and instead pulling you into his chest. your knees buckle the moment they hit the ground; tommy’s strong grip keeps you upright. “there you are, ’s alright. god, you’re shivering like a leaf in the wind. we’ll get you nice and warm now.”

there’s a bit of a struggle getting inside, your legs practically refusing to hold your weight. an immense wave of relief washes through you when you collapse onto the couch they bring you to and you let your eyes shut in exhaustion.

“now don’t you fall asleep on us quite yet,” joel warns. “we gotta get you warm first. tommy, get some hot water going.” you force your eyes back open to see him crouching in front of you. “listen, uh. some of your clothes are a little wet from the snow, and we can’t have that.” he pauses at that, studying your face to catch any sort of reaction.

“okay,” you whisper, somehow coherent enough to still understand what he’s saying and know that he’s right.

“okay,” he repeats. “can i take these jackets off?” you nod. his grip is gentle when he pulls you up from your slouched position, allowing you to lean into him when he slips off the coat he gave you, then your own slightly damp jacket. you begin to shiver even harder, your thinning cotton shirt doing nothing to keep any cold at bay. “alright, alright,” he mumbles, half to himself as he pulls his thicker, dry coat back around you. then comes a blanket, taken from the couch and wrapped securely around your shoulders. he shifts you to rest against the back of the sofa.

that’s when he pauses, at a bit of a loss of what to do because your jeans, despite your thick boots, are soaked from the snow almost up to your knees. but there’s no way in hell he’d feel comfortable taking off your pants, much less how you’d feel.

“i’m gonna have to cut your pants,” he concludes. “promise we’ll get you new ones in town, but you’ll never get warm like this.”

“’s okay,” you mumble. so he rummages in his pack until he finds a pair of scissors, doing his best to avoid touching your bare skin with his hands or cut you with the cold metal. it’s tricky business; the jeans stick fairly close to your skin, but he manages not to even nick you with the sharp edges. the moment you’re free from any damp clothing, he wraps another blanket securely around your legs so it won’t fall off.

moments later, tommy reappears in your line of sight with exactly what joel asked for. he leans down, holding it out to you. with shaky hands, you grasp the cup, sighing in immediate relief at the warmth that spreads right into your fingers through your gloves.

“careful, now,” tommy advises. “it’s real hot, don’t burn your tongue.” you do your best to follow his instruction, weakly blowing at the hot water when you bring it close to your mouth. resisting the urge to down the whole thing, you grip it tighter and bring it to your chest, hoping to let some of the warmth permeate through other parts of your body other than your hands. it feels like a little piece of heaven when you feel the steam rising up to warm your chin, your lips, and the tip of your nose and the heat from the cup itself travel through your thin shirt and to the skin above your collarbone.

when you finally begin to sip on the warm water, it’s almost glorious; you can feel its warmth spread through your body. so once you discover it’s no longer too hot, you take long gulps and heave heavy sighs of relief. your trembling doesn’t disappear, but with the third cup, it certainly subsides.

this, and the far more relaxed expression on your face finally convinces joel that it’s safe to let you fall asleep—you’re halfway there anyways. tommy takes the empty cup from your hands before it can slip from your hold, and joel unravels your sleeping bag. at that point, you can no longer process the softly spoken words being exchanged by the brothers, but you’re vaguely aware of tommy’s arms tucking themselves under your shoulders and knees and pulling you off of the couch. then you’re being maneuvered into the sleeping bag that now lays across the surface of the couch, tommy setting you down while joel ensures that you stay properly wrapped up in the blankets. sleep claims you so quickly that you don’t hear the agreement between the two men to take turns keeping watch over you to periodically check your temperature and breathing.

joel wakes you in the morning, his gruff voice quickly recounting the events of the previous day when your jumbled state of mind after waking from such a deep sleep launches you into a panicked confusion. his explanation and comforting hands on your shoulders calm you in moments as the memories return, however vague they are due to the haze of your sickness.

“thank you,” you whisper as he helps you to sit up, his hands still gentle and supportive on your shoulders.

“course. like i said, we’ve got somewhere safe for you if you need. and at the very least, we’ve gotta get you some new pants and make sure you don’t get sick. were you travelin’ all alone?”

“not at first,” you explain, knowing he’s probably wondering about finding someone so young alone. “but now… yeah.” he sighs as if that’s the answer he expected.

“’m sorry,” he frowns. you just give a tight-lipped smile in response. “alright. we should get moving so we can get you to the town doctor. tommy’s gettin’ the horses ready.”

your eyebrows raise at his words. “town doctor?” you question. that puts a small smile on his lips that you don’t quite understand.

“yep. it’s a good place to be,” is all he offers in explanation.

“okay.” you begin untangling yourself from the blankets and sleeping bag that did the job of keeping you warm throughout the night. still covered by his coat, your upper half stays comfortable, but the feeling of your exposed calves hitting the cold air is unwelcome, not to mention the slightly embarrassing sight of the jagged edges of your jeans at such an awkward spot.

“sorry ‘bout that,” he comments, “but we’ll keep your legs wrapped up with blankets for now and get you new jeans in town.” once you nod, he grabs a hold of one of the blankets he laid on top of you after you feel asleep, a rather small piece of fabric, but the right size to help you out. he wraps it around your left leg, using ropes from his supplies to gently secure the fabric, then repeating his actions for your other leg.

as he does so, he keeps his gaze focused on his task, but his gravelly voice meets your ears. “realized we never asked your name,” he phrases it like a statement, but the obvious question is there.

to be honest, you hadn’t even realized either, first, mind clouded by the hypothermia, and up until now too caught up in the oddness of your situation. one moment you’re all on your own and on the brink of death, the next you’re saved and seemingly on the way to what sounds like some sort of miraculous safe haven even from the vague glimpses of information you hear.

you state your name, hoping with all you can muster up that this isn’t some kind of cruel trick, and that the kindness the two men have shown you is as genuine as it’s proved to be thus far.

“well then,” he repeats your name back to you as he secures the last knot, still not looking up at you, “let’s get you home.”

those words nearly knock the air from your lungs. he throws them out like they don’t mean much, but in the most confusing way, because you’re sure he did it on purpose. you’re sure he does know that they mean a whole lot more than a casual tone and avoided eye-contact, but you suppose you can’t blame him. it’s often easier to pretend they don’t mean anything, certainly much more with people you don’t really know at all, people like you. and yet, you can’t help but think he said it to reassure you. to tell you that this place he’s talking about is one where you can find that thing everyone in this world has lost. as if it’s somewhere you already belong without having set foot in it yet. and you can’t tell the difference between hope and fear in that moment, so you shove it all away.

“sure.” you stand just after he does, grabbing your sleeping bag and beginning to roll it to the best of your ability while still weak. but he stops you, quickly taking over the task of clearing and packing up the last few things in the lookout after handing you a cup of warm water, not too hot. you finish it quickly, still more than grateful for any warmth that can be provided.

joel motions towards the door once he’s finished, and on still slightly wobbly legs, you walk up to him, stopping before he can lead you out.

“thank you, joel,” your voice is quiet, but sure when you say it.

“of course,” he assures, genuine in the affirmation.

“and tommy. tommy, too, of course,” you stutter, suddenly feeling awkward.

“sure thing.” he clears his throat, one his occupied hands almost moving up to rub the back of his neck. at that he turns, and you follow him out, back into the cold.

the shivery weather is not welcome by you, but in a properly warm coat and definitively out of the worst of your condition, it’s far more bearable. you feel bad for taking over joel’s coat, but he seems just fine in his jacket that’s clearly far warmer than your old, lousy excuse of a winter garment.

tommy and the horses are waiting there, just as joel said, and he smiles upon seeing you.

“good to see you up and alive, kid,” he grins with a gentle pat to your shoulder.

you answer his playfully reassuring attitude with a bashful smile of your own. “yeah, the alive part is definitely a plus,” you say in attempts of matching his tone. the way his grin grows tells you the joke landed, putting you at even more ease than before. unfortunately, it doesn’t make the way you formally introduce yourself to him any less awkward, but he seems glad to know your name. by your side, joel tightens one last strap on the horse before placing a careful hand on your shoulder.

“i think we’re good to go now. it’ll only be a few hours of riding,” he informs.

“sure,” you nod. pausing for a moment, you cast eyes down before speaking, albeit a bit timidly. “could you.. could you help me up again?”

you completely miss the soft look on his face at your request. “course i can, kiddo. i’ll get up first and help you from there, okay?” at your affirmative, he easily mounts the horse before holding a hand out to you. “just put your foot here, grab my hand, and i’ll do all the work, alright?” he moves his leg away from the stirrup so that you can use it yourself, his grip on your hand steady the moment you place it in his palm. gratefully, you follow his instructions, doing your best to use your own strength in tandem with joel to ease the effort he has to put forth to help you up. as you swing your leg over the horse, he guides your hand to hold onto his shoulder for you to grip far easier than his hand and succeeds in getting you into the saddle behind him. with that, you’re off, traveling somewhere that you somehow dare to hope is the sort of paradise joel and tommy have described.

part two here !!

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