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donaweasley · 8 months ago

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Promises to Keep

Pairing: Geralt x Fem!Reader

Plot:

Geralt is tasked with protecting a princess but his feelings keep poking at him, urging him to shed his tough armour and give in to his heart. But the witcher is a righteous man. He won’t succumb to his feelings so easily. Will he?

Some pining, some fluff that will lead to a “part 2” of this story.

Warnings: A bit of m.at.ure stuff. K.i.d.s better stay away!

Read time: ~15 mins

Note: This story has been based in a timeline before the fall of Cintra, and so, Geralt has not yet started his quest for Ciri. Oh, and he doesn’t fall in love with Yennefer. 😉

Prologue:

Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with many a difficult missions but the hardest of them all was probably not killing but protecting a person. That person was a princess whose parents had specifically called for Geralt to take their daughter under his wing as Nilfgaard marched towards their doorstep.

The princess could fight; she had been in battles but Nilfgaard had morphed into something entirely different from what the Continent had previously seen. It was as though Hell itself had poured into their army, leaving a trail of ash and blood wherever it went.

And so, turning all cries and protests from the said princess to deaf ears, her parents sent her away, in return of an assurance from her that, should their kingdom fall, she would come back and restore it to its glory, flying their banners from every nook and corner.

They knew she could, they had said.

The journey with Geralt had not been easy, moving from camp to camp, from inn to inn, not to mention the complications of his profession. But time gradually made things easier for them both, eventually bringing them to a point where they could comfortably pose as husband and wife so as to protect her identity, and avail a temporary shelter in a village.

And even though they were living a lie of being a married pair, their hearts often wished to forget reality, and enjoy the bliss of domestic life with one another. To be with each other unconditionally, forgetting all rules and boundaries.

But Geralt was a man of ethics, and she did not want him to bear the burden of guilt just because her stupid heart could not stop fluttering for this kind, brave gentleman with a heart of gold!

And thus, neither, for fear of straining what they already had, could ever utter their feelings to each other. After all, they had promises to keep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few months ago:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She hurt herself on the thick leather armour as she flung her arms around his neck. But she did not care. That was a pain she would happily endure if it meant seeing Geralt at her doorstep safe and sound.

He smelled of sweat and blood and the swamp. He probably tasted like it, too. Alright, so what? The man returned after three weeks from the edge of the Continent. And perhaps from the edge of life. She couldn't care less about what he smelled or tasted like. But did he really…? She was very close to confirming her assumption - almost there - when Geralt suddenly remembered his place: the protector of the princess, a mere witcher.

“Princess,” the rich baritone vibrating in her ear woke her up from her purple dream. She could not help but lean back when she found her “husband” doing the same.

Geralt spread his arms slightly, and smiled with that usual softness in his eyes that came to the forefront only when she was around. “Safe and sound. Just like I had promised.”

“I am honoured!” She jested, and stepped inside, making room for Geralt to do the same.

“Give me a minute. I'll draw a bath for you. And once you have cleaned that mess off you, you'll have a warm dinner waiting,” she smiled and turned to make her way to the bath when Geralt gently but firmly held her wrist.

Neither could deny the spark that coursed through their veins at the contact. But neither would confess. Involuntarily, the witcher’s thumb made faint circles over her veins. Once he realised what he was doing, he slowly released her but their fingers lingered over the other’s before finally making some room between them.

Geralt pleaded with her to stop fussing over it all but the woman was ecstatic! Who could stop her from doing everything she could for the man she was falling in love with! Not even the strongest witcher.

And so, she hopped away to prepare a warm bath for him while he busied himself with the relieving task of removing his armour and weapons.

Geralt lay in the bath, pondering over the unsaid things that have been passing between the princess and him. Especially the ones that happened that evening. They had never been this close before, and it only made his breath shallower every time he thought about it. His mind wandered away unleashed every time his drunken heart slipped into fantasies of what could have happened had he not pulled away from her embrace…or what might happen if he allowed himself a bit more liberty with his feelings…

A gentle knock on the door startled him, bringing him back to the reality of the small room lit by two candles, back to the fact that the woman living under the same roof with him was his mission, not his real wife, as the villagers knew her to be. There was no way a witcher could dream of having a wife and a family, let alone with a princess!

“Need anything?” The voice was gentle, happy…it was caring. It made Geralt smile to think that someone cared so deeply for him, that he was actually having a domestic life, even though a fake one.

“Your company would be nice,” he quipped.

Geralt grinned wickedly. He did not need to see her to know the blush creeping up her ears and cheek.

Over the months their relationship - real or fake, whatever that was - had built into a strong bond, one that was made of cares, banters, challenges, huffs (and not just from the witcher), puns of all kinds and fluttering heartbeats. And though neither backed down during the banters or the puns, either one of them definitely ended up with blood rushing up their cheeks.

(Y/N) bit her lip and rolled her eyes. Two could play this game. Taking a deep breath, she cracked the door open. It startled Geralt, and she could tell it without seeing his wide eyes and parted lips.

“I believe you have a lot to talk about from your adventure?” She slowly walked in, eyes straining to look anywhere but at him.

She did not receive an immediate response. How could she! Geralt was spellbound by the boldness of this woman! It was inspired by his own recent boldness, perhaps, he wondered.

He cleared his throat, “Indeed.”

She picked up a small wooden stool, and sat with her back to him. “You were saying?”

“I would detail everything but are you sure you can stomach all that? And before dinner?”

Glimpses from his previous tales crept back, and she gulped at the gory imaginations that his words had painted in her head. Perhaps she could not. But would she confess? No!

“I’m tougher than you think, witcher.”

This was their usual way of addressing each other: “Witcher”, with a sarcastic stress in the middle of the word, and “Princess”, with a vanity enveloping the word.

When they had set out for their journey, she had requested him not to call her “princess”. “I have a name, and I would like to be addressed by it,” she had insisted. But Geralt had decided on maintaining his propriety.

When asked whether he would like to be addressed as Geralt or Witcher, he had simply mumbled, “Whatever you like, Princess.”

“Witcher it is then.”

And that has ever been going on, until recently when some rare moments witnessed them addressing each other by their names, and not what they were to the world.

In the small bathroom now, she heard a slosh behind her, signalling the rise of the large man from his bath. She tried her best to stop her shameless mind from picturing his wet body, dripping with water as he stood and stepped out of the tub, as he reached for the towel nearby and dried himself with it before wrapping it low around his waist. But the quiet of the night made sure that every little sound and movement reached her ears, leaving her a slave to her unabashed imagination.

Geralt grunted, the sound coming from right above her head.

“I know you can’t take it…Princess,” the last word was practically breathed on the shell of her ear.

Leaving her a total mess, Geralt sauntered out of the bathroom with a promise to indulge her in his stories after dinner.

That night, in the faint light of the moon, nimble fingers traced the contours of the witcher’s face as he slept - brows slightly arched, lips parted, face as serene as a dawn in Spring. She watched him breathe peacefully, devoid of the cares of the world, until a small smile cracked at a corner of his mouth. With eyes still closed, he placed a hand on hers and brought it to his lips. A chaste kiss was all it was, and yet it had her heart thundering. He had never - ever - shown any affection other than soft looks and gentle smiles.

“Sleep princess,” he rasped in a sleepy voice.

He opened his eyes once, to watch her smile at him, before holding her hand snuggly and drifting back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present day:

The sound of the door cracking open brought her back to the present. Quickly slipping a little more below the soapy water, she gripped the hilt of her sword.

It was Geralt. The moment he set one foot inside, his eyes went wide. It took him hardly a second to swing on his heels, to look away, but the sinful image had planted itself in his head. Probably for eternity.

“Pardon me. I…I did not know… I thought you were done. I just returned from outside; I did not notice that you were not anywhere else. I…”

“Geralt!” His name. She spoke his name! That, along with her soothing tone put an abrupt end to his string of stammering apologies. “It’s alright. I know you had no ill intentions.”

Shifting uncomfortably on his feet for a couple of seconds, he asked, “Do you need anything?”

Her lips stretched into a smirk as she recalled an old conversation that had occurred under very similar circumstances.

“Your company would be nice,” she quipped, just like Geralt had a few months ago.

The witcher recognised the joke immediately. A small smile escaped his usual serious features.

“I believe you have a lot to talk about your first kill,” he jested just like she had back then.

The sigh that filled the room made Geralt wonder if he had said something uncalled for. She was shaken by the incident but if she was making jokes now, she must be recovering. Right?

“(Y/N),” Geralt called without looking at her, “are you alright?”

“No, if truth be told,” came the confession.

He understood. Keeping his gaze focused on the floor, he took a few large steps until he was standing near the foot of the tub. In one smooth move, he was sitting on the floor with his back to her.

There was something about Geralt that made her feel protected all the time. Even in her most exposed and vulnerable state, she felt safe and comfortable with him around. And it was not just the love she felt for him. It was something else. It was something…very “Geralt”.

“The monsters we kill haunt our minds till long after. You never get used to it no matter how many kills you have made,” he sighed.

(Y/N) listened quietly. He was a man of few words, and at most times it seemed as though he was not even listening. But he always understood every single unexpressed emotion, every single unsaid word that she carried within her.

“Every time I close my eyes or every time I hear something, fear grips me,” she shivered at the thought. “You are right. I'm haunted by its memory, and … I cannot seem to shake the thoughts off. No matter how hard I try! I cannot even be courageous enough to convince myself that it is all in my head!” She slapped the water in frustration.

Unlike the witcher, killing monsters was not her profession nor did she volunteer for it. But what she did volunteer for was accompanying Geralt to a trip to the river caves for some herbs. Despite the witcher’s efforts to shield her inside the safety of their home, she managed to argue her way out of the proverbial safety net. Which is what led to the unforeseen event of her first close encounter with one of the many monsters that had become part of Geralt’s life. It also led her to, for the first time, being at the receiving end of Geralt’s fury for risking her life .

‘You were very courageous back there,” Geralt smiled at the memory of her driving her sword through the neck of the drowner, thus saving his own neck in the process.

“I had to be! Couldn’t just stand there and watch my favourite grumpy fellow die!” She jested about it but a shiver ran up her spine as she spoke. “It was disgusting, you know? I can still feel all the blood and slime on my skin.”

“It was also very brave. You saved my life!”

He had thought that his statement would make her proud but he was met with silence.

She spoke after a while. “You do know that I shall not be able to live anymore if something happens to you, don’t you? I shall only survive.”

Geralt’s heart suddenly felt very heavy in his chest. What she said was known information to him. Somewhere in his soul, he knew that she loved him. But to hear it aloud was totally unexpected.

“I shall be fine, princess,” he used his most assuring voice. “Do not worry about me.”

Unseen by him, a smile formed on her countenance. “I know, witcher.”

“Maybe we could talk about something else?” He suggested. “Take your mind off the monster?”

“Hmm… How is Jaskier?” She suddenly asked.

Geralt almost turned his head towards her in surprise. Almost. She was naked, having a bath, and the first “something else” that came to her mind was the bard??

“Jaskier?” He asked. “You wish to talk about Jaskier now?”

“Well, you wanted to talk about something else!”

Was that jealousy that she was sensing in his huffs? She hoped it was.

“He must be fine. I do not know.” He ended the topic as quickly as it had begun.

“Hmm.”

The princess laid her head back on the tub and closed her eyes. There was a comfortable silence. So comfortable that she did want to leave, did not want to do anything that might disturb the moment. Even though it was getting late. Even though Geralt still had to wash himself.

Geralt still has to wash himself! Shit! He must be hungry!

Her eyes shot open. “I’m sorry, I forgot you have to wash up, too! I shall be quick.”

The sudden splash of water pulled Geralt out of his own reverie, inadvertently causing him to turn around so as to ask her not to hurry. But the sight before him left him speechless. It was fortunate that she was too busy to see him else he would never have been able to face her in shame. Geralt turned back and shut his eyes as soon as he snapped out of his trance. But that did nothing to erase the image imprinted in his mind. Not that he wanted to.

She had pulled herself up slightly, as she tried to reach for the towel on the nearby stool. In the light of the candles, her body glowed golden as water cascaded off every curve of her body… down the side of her neck, her shoulders, two perfect globes that highlighted particularly well in the candlelight, perky nipples that had hardened in the water, the beginning of a lustful waist…

He did not hear her step out of the tub, did not hear the rustle of clothes as she got dressed, no. His mind was replaying the same thing over and over again. There was an evident twitch somewhere down his body. He faintly heard something about dinner and changing the water. The creak of the door pulled him back.

“I shall…” His voice was hoarse. “I shall change the water. You may leave.”

The change in his mannerism surprised her but then both his voice and attitude were gravelly most of the time. With a small “alright”, she exited, leaving him to his thoughts.

Dinner was quiet as Geralt tried to suppress the feelings bubbling inside him. He wanted to look at her and lose himself in her eyes. He wanted to tell her how he felt. Wanted to show her what it meant to unleash months of bridled love that he had been carrying within his entire being. He wanted to…

Gods! There were so many things that he wanted to do. But every time he talked himself into taking one step forward, his reality made him take two steps back.

And so, once again, he retired to bed without telling her anything at all about the whirlwind in his heart.

Geralt woke up sometime in the middle of the night, sensing some movements near him. Once sleep stopped fogging his senses, he realised that it was (Y/N) tossing and turning beside him in her sleep. Not only was she being restless, she was mumbling something incoherent that only got louder with her movements. It hardly took him a couple of seconds to realise that she was having a nightmare!

Geralt tried to wake her up: called her name, shook her. But she was trapped deep in her own head. He thought he heard something like his name but could not be sure. Seeing his efforts go in vain, he took her face in both hands and shouted her name while shaking her once more. He wasn’t sure if it would work but luckily, it did. With wild eyes she stared at him, as if trying to figure out where she was, trying to put up a wall between her horrid imagination and sweet reality. When she finally came around, she threw her arms around Geralt’s neck, causing him to tumble to the mattress with her below. Once again, he fought with himself as a wave of relief washed over him, eventually crashing into a strong desire to keep her encased in his arms and caress her for the remainder of the night.

“I dreamt that you were…” she almost sobbed. “That I had…” She couldn’t bring those bitter words to her tongue.

Geralt understood.

“You will never lose me. I shall always be by your side. I promise.”

In the dark veil of the night, in those weak moments, he made her a promise that even he did not know how he would keep, for she would be married to some royalty some day; she would have to go away, leaving him with his solitude and monsters. He could not keep her to himself nor could he watch her be with somebody else.

But that was a worry for another day. Right then, she was in his arms, and no one else’s. Even if for a moment, she was his. He lay on his side and pulled her to his chest. A hand cradled her head, drawing soothing lines through her hair, until her warm breath on his skin had become stable.

Geralt never seeked help or answers from the gods; he did not believe in them. But as he kissed the crown of her head that night, his lips prayed for her safety and happiness, and if possible, for her to be bound to him for eternity.

He knew he was being selfish. He did not know who heard his prayers or even if there was someone who might hear them. But he whispered them anyway, believing that it was the only way to make his wishes come true.

***

#geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #the witcher #the witcher netflix #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n

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sehtoast · 5 months ago

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Slices of a New Life (Depowered!Homelander x OC)

18+ | 4.3k, brief somno smut scene at the double divider mark, hurt/comfort, home remodeling, domestic bliss/turmoil, nightmares, shared showers, doctor appointments, emotional breakdowns, lingering trauma, mirrorlander, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

The nightmares were the worst. His body would heal… for the most part, at least. Cuts would mend, scars would form, that chipped molar would become the new norm– at least until he stopped panicking at the thought of seeing a dentist.

But his mind?

It never did forget. Not even the trauma he endured in the labs as a child was ever really far from the front of his mind. And now?

Now there was something new. Something fresh and horrible.

Something all too happy to pervade his dreams and rip him from what little rest his anxious existence could even get these days. Night after night, day after day.

If it wasn’t full blown nightmares, it was panic attacks– or were they anxiety attacks? Fuck, at this rate, who cares?

God knows it’s taken him long enough to get used to standing under the water of the shower since then, but would he ever get used to living again?

Well.

If one could even call this living. The closest he’s gone to outside since Benjamin rescued him has been to see Doctor Edi, and even that was mortifying.

“Goodness!” The old woman had gasped when she entered the room. Benjamin had snuck him into Vought Tower. It scared him half to death to get carried up the side of the skyscraper now that he could no longer fly, but the web-head insisted he needed to at least get some degree of medical attention after everything, and there was no way in hell Homelander was going in through the front door willingly or letting some stranger poke and prod at him. Doctor Edi was the only one he’d see, albeit reluctantly. If nothing else, the idea of maybe getting something to help him sleep at night made him a little less reluctant.

Setting foot in the tower felt like a massive mistake the moment they entered. Ben’s old apartment stung his heart like nothing else, and the walk through the halls had been petrifying despite the fact no one even recognized him in his beanie and hoodie.

And now, sitting before the doctor?

It didn’t take long for the humiliation and shame to turn to rampant anxiety and dread, quickly spiraling far beyond his control until his breathing became rapid.

“Shh,” Ben coos, hands rubbing at his shoulders. “He’s been like this…”

He wants to yell at Ben to shut his mouth– he has not been weak. The shame he feels now brings him back to then, back to the cell, back to that guard humiliating him, hurting him day after fucking day. It grips him by the chest and squeezes every part of him until he feels like he’s suffocating– chest too tight, lungs won’t breathe, heart too fast–

His head is under the weight of that boot again and that fucking cattle prod is going to press against his back soon and–

The chatter between Ben and the doctor fades into garbled words, but he’s at least still visually grounded. No haziness or swirling yet. He’s had a few of these already. It’s only been four weeks since he’s come home, but…

“Once a day,” he hears Ben say clearly. “Every other if we’re lucky. Shh, pumpkin. It’s okay…”

He knows that, he just can’t make it stop once it starts. The roar of the firehose pummeling him against the wall, the clanging of the baton outside the cell, the coldness of the cement floor all fill his mind.

Homelander barely registers the feeling of Ben’s jacket being draped over him, but it does somehow soothe his nerves– if only a little. Focus, focus… Just fucking focus.

“...considered therapy?”

I don’t need fucking therapy! He shouts inside his head, teeth grit as he hisses a shaky breath. The lights are too bright. His skin feels too tight, he’s itchy, too hot. Stop trying to–

“He doesn’t want to.” Ben answers, then their banter fades out again. Something about his fear of being recognized... Homelander clenches his eyes shut and shoves his face against Ben’s chest, knuckles white as he grips the edge of the padded examination table like his life depends on it.

Somehow that helps.

The two talk for a moment longer, surface level details of what he'd gone through and the extent of his mostly-healed injuries are shared, then suddenly they’re alone and Benjamin is whispering in his ear.

“Remember what we talked about? Breathe, pumpkin.”

Easy for you to say.

But he tries.

“That’s it… Just us now,” Ben whispers. “Proud of you. M’sorry to put you through this...”

No… I’m sorry.

But the words don’t come out. He just clings to his little spider and keeps trying to control his breathing, just like Ben said.

In… and out.

In…

Hold it…

Out. Slow…

“Attaboy.”

At least by the end, after a lot of unpleasant poking and prodding and blood draws, he gets a lovely bottle of sleep medication. He prays it’ll work.

He’s back to sitting on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table as he flips through channel after channel, app after app. Ben’s out for the night. Some stupid fuck just had to blare their sirens loud enough for him to hear…

He feels rotten without his little spider around to distract him. The voice in his head tends to seize its opportunity without Ben around to soothe the both of them. It begins with a ringing in his ears, just like always.

Could you get any more pathetic?

He groans, tapping the tip of the remote against his temple as if that would silence his other half.

“We’re not doing this…” He mutters under his breath, jamming his finger down on the volume-up button to drown him out.

Face it tiger, you’re cooked. Demoted to house pet.

It’s been like this since Ben broke him out of that fucking supe prison. Hell, his other half taunted him in there, too. There was no escaping him, nowhere to run, nowhere quiet. He’s just about to start a whole argument when he hears the telltale sound of the window sliding open and shut.

Saved by the bug. As usual.

John breathes a sigh of relief instantly. They say their hellos and he follows Ben into the bathroom like some sort of lost puppy. Seems that all he is these days.

“Anything fun?” He asks, sitting on the ledge of the tub while Ben wets and tousles his mask-flattened hair back to something decent.

“Mm, some dickhead tearing up a bank.” Ben says. “Called himself Shocker. Guy was a little weirdo, honestly.”

Homelander huffs a short laugh, betraying the way he truly feels. This is the only way he can be involved in heroics now. Hearing about it, watching it on the news, seeing little videos from bystanders on social media. More than anything though, he hates that he can’t be there. He should be out there protecting his little spider, making sure none of those rancid fucks put a hand on him. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Ben injured, but still…

“Hey, how’d that movie end?”

“Stupid.” He says. “The main guy got killed, the blonde girl lived. Typical horror movie. They put the killer through a woodchipper though. That was cool.”

“Typical horror movie,” Ben echoes in agreement, letting out a big yawn right after.

The bug offers him a hand, which Homelander takes without hesitation. They wind up in bed, cuddled up close to wind down for the night. He hates to admit it, but he really is extra clingy these days.

Back when he was stuck in that cell, he’d lay on the cement floor and weep, praying that it was all a dream and he’d wake up to his Benjamin. It would all be a bad dream; he’d be okay, he’d be at home and safe. But then his eyes would open the next morning and he’d still be in that cell, still on that floor.

Sometimes he’s scared he’ll wake up on that cold slab all over again.

He falls asleep to fingers raking softly through his hair, warm and content to keep his head atop Ben’s chest, hearing thumps from the heart that claimed him. And he’s okay for a time, completely and utterly okay.

Until he’s not.

Until he’s back in that cell– until the door swings open and in walks that guard and fear paralyzes him into a perfect ragdoll to be thrown to the floor.

He’s beaten bloody. Cut and battered, thrown about like the worthless sack of nothing he is, and then that boot is on his head again, prod pressed to his back.

“Beg,” the guard orders. “Beg for your life.”

The sharp crackle of electricity shocks him back to consciousness, but the words fly off his tongue anyway–

“Please don’t!”

He jolts, damn near falling off the side of the bed if not for the thwip of a web grabbing him by the center of his heaving chest. The room is lit only by a faint blue glow and he can hardly see, but he knows that sound better than anything.

“Hey– s’okay. You’re good; you’re safe...”

And he knows that voice.

For a moment, he thought he’d never hear it again.

His breathing is fast and ragged as he comes down from the panic.

“Fuck…” He pants. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Every fucking night with this. Every single fucking night…

The table light gets flicked on once he’s calm enough to release Ben from the closest thing to a death grip he can muster these days. Tears of frustration well in his eyes despite his best effort to hold them back.

They don’t take much more than a second to spill free once Ben's arms wrap around him.

“Sorry,” the bug murmurs as he disconnects each little strand of webbing stuck to him that tugs at his chest hair.

Homelander snorts. Ben must think he’s crying like this because it hurts. To be fair, it is like having the world's smallest and strongest bandage torn off, but he’s had worse.

He’s had so much worse.

“Did you take your pills?”

“Yes, I took my fucking pills, Ben.” He snaps. “For fucks sake, I–”

But he stops. He always feels guilty after this– after all of it. The waking, the screaming, the agitation and short-tempered remarks. He’d never admit to it, but…

Ben doesn’t respond to his outburst. The bug never did. Years together now, and Ben’s always been so sickeningly tolerant of him, never cracking even when it’s written on his face clear as day that he’s on his last leg. Patient, even if he sat there in tears from the things Homelander had said to him. Understanding…

He doesn’t know where the fuck Ben gets it, but he’s glad at least one of them is levelheaded, even if it does piss him off sometimes. It wouldn’t hurt for the boy to snap and yell back once in a while. At least it would even the score…

He’s groggy and miserable the next day. He wakes with a groan, eventually letting Benjamin drag him into a shower. He’s gotten better with standing under the stream, though he still can’t help but recall what it was like to be on the receiving end of the blistering torrent of that hose in the prison showers when he does.

So, as usual, they take it slow. Ben enters first, holds a hand out, leads him in. Hugs him close and slowly walks them backward into the water until they’re both wet and all is well. He leans his head atop Ben’s shoulder, eyes shut as they stand under the warmth.

Benjamin has the day off. In theory, they could stay there all day. Whether or not the hot water would last was another thing entirely, but they technically could.

He hums contentedly as a soapy loofah roams his body. The one benefit left to crawling out of bed in the morning was being spoiled rotten by his little spider. He never could decide what he liked more: the skincare routine or the hair washing.

Even with his hair buzzed short, Benjamin still took his sweet time raking and rubbing suds into his scalp, even massaging his temples. It definitely alleviates the tension, that’s for sure. But then there’s the face wash… Thumbs stroking his cheekbones, smoothing out the worry lines on his forehead, booping the tip of his nose.

Oh, how he adores it all.

Even when they’re done and Ben helps carefully shave away the overgrowth of his facial hair, he loves it. Two kisses pressed to his cheeks, some kind of serum and moisturizer, and Ben assures him that he’s the most beautiful man alive.

Their morning is spent messing around with the layout of the house. Most things were put away within the first week of his rescue, though he was in no condition to help. Ben spent that time building all kinds of furniture at his bedside, dragging it with ease to its new home in some corner or wherever else he saw fit. Slowly, over time, the house became a home, and today was for finishing touches. All they had to do was rearrange a few things here or there until it was perfect.

Homelander snorts a laugh when Ben drags the couch an inch or two to the left while he rests on it.

When they finish, he can’t help but feel something tugging at his heart. Something he… really hasn’t ever felt.

Sure, he had the cabin. That was a house and it was his. It was nice and all, but it wasn’t…. It wasn’t this.

Not even the glory of the penthouse could touch the way this makes him feel.

Emotional was definitely a word for it.

How could he not get choked up? Looking around, seeing his dream... The love of his life, pictures of them together, a cozy kitchen, inviting living room, soft lighting because Benjamin knows how he feels about bright overhead lights... The only thing that was missing was the stereotypical white picket fence, but he could make an exception for something so small when everything he ever dreamed of is right here.

“You have to talk about it at some point.”

“Fuck you! Fuck! You!”

He doesn’t mean to be so harsh. Doesn’t mean to shout or grit his teeth or any of it. But he has to protect himself.

“I know it’s shitty, but keeping it locked up isn’t helping, y’know.” Ben tells him, calm and collected as ever. Suppose he has no reason to fear a dog that can no longer bite. Well, not that he was ever afraid to begin with.

“I already said I’m not seeing a fucking therapist and that’s final!” He seethes, shaky finger pointing accusingly as if to remind Benjamin that he knows this answer already. “I–”

“I’m not asking you to go to therapy,” Ben says. “You can’t anyway until I twist Stan’s nuts hard enough to get you to exist legally on paper and stuff– still can't believe the fuckin’ board brought him back– I just… Can’t you talk to me?”

Homelander presses two fingers to each of his temples, massaging the frustration and headache throbbing beneath his skin. “It’s still a no– for fuck’s sake why don’t you ever listen!?”

“Because it’s for you, you goof!” Ben leans back on the couch as though this weren’t the most heated argument they’ve had since Homelander lost his powers. “I grew up in therapy, babe. I’m a good listener. I promise.”

“No.”

“Why?” Ben asks immediately.

“Because–”

Because I don’t want you to know every humiliating thing that’s happened to me.

“I–”

Because I can’t bear to see the way you look at me change again.

“I–”

Because I’m so afraid you’ll see me as more worthless than I already am…

“Fuck you!” Of course his words come out choked. Of course he’d have to give himself away in such a pathetic manner. He realizes he’s been pacing the whole time, agitated.

There’s nowhere to go. No blue skies nor clouds in which he can hide. If he leaves, he’s bound to be seen, bound to be recognized. There’s nowhere in the house he can go without Ben fucking finding him eventually.

His hands grip at his borrowed shorts, clenching, knuckles turning white. Too much– too warm, too loud, too quiet, can’t get enough air, can’t–

Pathetic.

“God damnit!” Homelander roars, sinking to his knees, eyes clenched shut with all his might. His palms press tight over his ears, shielding himself from nothing and everything all at once. He curls in on himself, like a turtle hiding in his shell– but he hasn’t got that. He’s like a nerve, raw and vulnerable, utterly at the mercy of the world.

He can’t hear Benjamin approach, can’t feel the kiss of air as the bug squats before him and just stays there. He just holds himself like that, lip bit between his teeth, eyes shut like gates that would open for nothing and no one as he blocks out the world.

He's that little boy in the lab again, rocking himself in the corner– his only comfort.

He's the man in the cell, curled up in the fetal position against a cold, hard floor.

He is anger and rage, sadness and woe, helplessness and desperation. And he feels so small…

He is a dog ready to be put down at any moment by a world from which he can no longer protect himself. A world that is too much for him to bear.

He can’t release his pain into it.

He can’t give the world one more fucking hold over him.

“Are you sure? I can take you to my stylist. She’s super cool.”

Homelander shakes his head. That would require going out, plus he’s not sure he’s ready to feel a pair of clippers shear his head again. Not after they buzzed him nearly bald in the supe prison. Seeing himself look so wrong was…

He doesn’t want to go through that again.

He can’t go through that again.

Ben was off for another day. He’d just been formally appointed as captain of the new and improved Seven, a clean slate all except for the web-head himself. Stacks of contract papers littered the desk in the bedroom, and even more were splayed out upon the table in front of the couch. They’d been sitting for some time. Homelander had been watching a documentary about Pompeii while Ben sorted through so much legal jargon it was a miracle the bug’s head didn’t explode.

A hand ruffles John’s messy hair. Four months of growth and it was getting a bit out of hand. The sides and top were at an oddly equal length, and he was looking quite shaggy. Benjamin’s offer hangs in the air, but Homelander can’t quite find it in himself to agree to be at the mercy of someone, even if it would be to his benefit.

“I thought you finished picking through your contract.” John says, trying to shift the focus elsewhere. “What’s with this one?”

Ben smiles at him, grinning wide and proud.

“This one’s about you,” he says excitedly.

Homelander’s brow furrows and he leans forward immediately. Anxious thoughts ripple through his mind. Are they trying to come after him? Would they take him away again– oh god, oh god–

“It's nothing bad, I promise. I’m getting you everything, and I do mean everything.” Ben tells him. “I’m not letting them raw deal you. Like I said, I'm basically twisting Stan's nuts. But anyway, uhm, where to start… The stack over there,” the bug points to the corner of the table, “is to get you the shit that’ll prove you exist. Birth certificate, state ID, social security number– all the government goods, basically. This one,” Ben points at two different stacks, “is to get Vought off your ass for good– except for Doctor Edi, since you said you’re comfortable seeing her. But that can always change if you want.”

John just sat in awe, brow furrowed as he listened.

“Also, basically any claim that you’re their ‘product,’ and therefore theirs, will be made into the bullshit it’s always been. Just in case they try to pull that at any point. I just… I’m trying to cover your ass every way I possibly can. I know a guy who knows this one cool lawyer. We got this.”

“I…” Homelander begins, but he can’t think of anything to say. Even a thank you feels insufficient.

Instead, he leans forward and pulls Ben into a kiss, sniffling and blinking back tears when they part.

“I love you,” Ben tells him firmly. “I’m not stopping till I know you’re a free man with the world as your oyster.”

When Benjamin wakes, it’s to a fullness slipping in and out of his core. Delicious pressure clouds his sleep-hazed mind in the best of ways, and he knows the culprit without even turning over. Hot, heavy breaths pant into his ear, fanning down the curve of his jaw.

“Mmm,” he hums. “G’mornin, pumpkin.”

Homelander acknowledges Benjamin with a kiss to his nape. He thrusts slowly, basking in the pleasure rippling through his body.

“So good,” Homelander gasps. Little broken moans escape him with each movement as if any second could spell his undoing. “Couldn't– couldn't help it. Needed you…” he admits.

A smile cracks across Benjamin's sleepy face. He's almost positive of how this whole thing started, same as it always did. Homelander probably woke up half hard and tried to offset it with some light grinding, but it wasn't enough.

It never is.

“Almost… mmm, almost,” he pants, clinging to Ben like his life depended on it. Each roll of his hips came faster and harder until he was rutting sloppily, chasing that release so desperately. “I– oh, fuck, I’m–” he mewls, suddenly choking off his whimpers into a tight, precious moan. His hips halt and quake as he spills, body stiff as a board.

Ben rocks gently and revels in the little strangled breaths gasped against his neck. This is good, he thinks to himself. Not solely because it felt good– it always did– but because Homelander's confidence had taken such a sharp dive after everything he'd gone through, and it was nice to see him be bold like this again.

He feels a hand creep down between his thighs, finding his stiff nub and pressing circles to the head of it. It was Ben's turn to hum a moan, his turn to clench and rock until the soft waves of bliss lapped at the shores of his mind and body, crumbling him so gently and powerfully all at once.

He moans Homelander's name for added effect. He prays it lifts that surge of confidence even more.

The two lay slumped together for a time, basking in the afterglow. Ben reaches back to run his fingers through John’s hair, murmuring the first “love you” of the day.

Not even the morning sun could shine brighter than the smile on his precious Johnny’s face in that moment.

He didn’t understand Ben sometimes.

The bug had bought their home outright after the previous owner moved out to live with her kids.

“I specifically wanted something a bunch of flippers didn’t fuck up, y’know?” He’d said when Homelander asked about it.

See, there were several things about the house that were… unique. Totally pink bathrooms, blue kitchen cabinets, just a ton of outdated aesthetics overall. But there was nothing wrong that necessitated fixing, so he didn’t get why Ben insisted upon shutting down the spare bathroom to remodel it.

It was a mess. His job was to keep Ben company and, to be fair, it was more interesting to watch him yank the toilet off the floor than browse whatever mud was playing on TV.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” He asks, head leaned into his hand as he sits atop a step ladder.

“Uhh,” the bug shrugs. “Mostly. I mean I watched some videos and called my dad, so… Besides, this is just the destructive part– which, y’know, is the fun part.”

Fair, Homelander thinks.

“Besides, you’re gonna like it when it’s done,” Ben says as he carries the pink monstrosity into the hallway. “I’ll let you pick the new toileeeet~” He sings while beginning his trek downstairs.

Homelander rolls his eyes, but he is admittedly a little excited at the thought of picking out more things for their house. They’d only been living there for six months, but it felt like an eternity– like it was theirs this whole time and they only needed to find it.

He hears the front door open and rolls his eyes at the realization that pink eye sore is going to sit on the curb until trash night and the whole neighborhood will know they’ve been using something so hideous.

“You better put a tarp over that thing,” he calls out when he hears Benjamin coming back in. “Nobody needs to see our shame.”

Ben’s giggles ring in time with footfalls ascending the stairs.

“Oh? I thought you didn’t mind the pink throne?” He teases. Benjamin has a chisel and hammer in one hand, as well as a pair of protective gloves, glasses, and a respirator mask in the other. He offers them all to Homelander, then nods in the direction of the bathroom. “C’mon, you’re helping me chip the tile off the walls.”

“I am not wearing that,” he says flatly.

“You are if you wanna break stuff.”

“You’re not even wearing a mask, I–” he tries, but stops short when Ben yanks his Spidey mask from his back pocket and dons it. “Ugh. Fine…”

At least they look ridiculous together.

#homelander #homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #homelander smut #depowered homelander #homelander x reader #the benlander agenda #antony starr #the boys

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mochinomnoms · 10 months ago

Note

Ok so this is totally inspired by the Ruggie being sick thing but sick Ptm Jade and Yuu taking care of him!!! I feel like somehow Azul would trick them into taking care of Jade (say he was busy or something with housewarden stuff). And when asked why Floyd can't take of his brother he'd butt in and say he hates how whiny Jade gets when sick. Idk I just have a feeling Jade would play up the dramatics when he's sick. And poor Yuu! Stuck watching the sick eel while endless fantasies go through Jade's head about a domestic lifestyle with them! And hopefully (but not likely) they won't have to see any nsfw thoughts this time!

-✨👀

Jade rarely gets sick, so when he does it's a whole ordeal of figuring out who takes care of his usual tasks and who will wrangle in Floyd (despite him and Floyd both stating that he's not Floyd's keeper and he thinks he's hella funny when he's up to shit.)

If we're setting this in ptm, then I can state with confidence that a second-year student named Marino De Reyes takes over Jade's tasks at Azul's request. And he does so beautifully. However, having someone to wrangle Floyd is a whole nother issue. Our sharky friend Tony is pushed to keep Floyd in check, as they're friends and Tony is typically more level-headed. However, when the two get together, their collective brain cells kinda die out and the two become menaces that actively encourage the other to get into shit. Honestly, Azul shouldn't be surprised, last the two were left to their own devices without someone to properly supervise, Floyd and Tony got tangled by a jellyfish's tentacles because, “they kinda looked like kelp and we wanted to see if they tasted good”. They got stung for over 15 minutes before Jade found them and had their fathers get them untangled.

They a little bit unhinged, to put it bluntly. So Azul and Aspen get busy wrangling their two friends from accidentally killing themselves parkouring on the roofs, So Azul, knowing that ptm!Yuu was taught first aid and care from the nurse, asks (begs) them to nurse Jade back to health. He can feel himself aging by the second, please Prefect, HELP.

So they do, and Jade is actually living in a delirious version of domestic bliss. Like, he actually thinks that you two are married and in your cottage by the forest and seaside. It makes the other students in the infirmary confused as hell, and the nurse giddy and teasing. Jade's not just wearing rose-tinted glasses, he got lasik surgery to have rose-tinted vision, because you can do no wrong. The fantasies he's having are actually quite sweet, just dreams of you two living together. You wake him up to take his medicine? He's visioning you hand feeding him breakfast in bed. Pushing his bangs away from his face to place a new wet towel on his fevering forehead? He's imagining you brushing your fingering through his hair. If Jade's sick enough to need someone else to take over tasks and have Azul owe you a favor to care for him, then he's just a bit delirious. For once, he's not filtering his words from his thoughts and just out right saying everything that his mind conjures.

“You're so pretty. A pretty, pretty pearl! Nurse Goethel, aren't they just beautiful? Ethereal, like seeing our galaxy in the night sky.”

“Pfft-oh? You're very correct Jade, wouldn't you agree, Prefect?”

“Um, well I—”

“I love your voice, my pearl. I can hear you speak all day…”

“Aw! How cute, did you know this Prefect? He's such a gentleman, you should go out—”

“You're so cute and sweet, I bet you taste sweet too~ I'd love to hear you moan for me as I—MmPH!”

Smothering a sick man with a pillow is not typically recommended by medical professionals, but you needed to preserve whatever bit of dignity you (and Jade at this point) had left. You thank the Seven that it was only you three in the room at that time. The week ends with Jade discharged and sent to his dorm with some antibiotics, but the nurse's teasing and swoons of young romance were just beginning…

(Now the real debate is whether or not Jade was actually delirious, or if he was pretending so he could say what he thought and gage your reactions. What do you think?)

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #ptm #✨👀 anon

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transbianmuffin · 24 days ago

Text

Memories pt. 3

cw manipulation but we all know she wants to be a pet, also two queer flirting and a hint of gaslighting

********

this thing is huge, and it's almost nonsensical, so much complexity so incredibly decorated so alienating?

"This is...incredible..."

"This, dear, is Opicala. The main Affini ship overseeing Jupiter."

"How? How? It's..."

"Huge? Fantastic? I know you tend to struggle with words." "Majestic!" "Haha, yes majestic is a nice one to describe it." "..." "I know, I know, most of sophonts don't comprehend the grandeur of Affini's architecture." wait those two affini have people? on a leash? what the hell? I've heard about domestication but I thought it was mostly reducing them to zombies and those guys are making out? they seem so happy so carefree what is happening and why why why I- I like it? No I don't want to be a slave I want peace not being a slave again "But I guess you're not looking at the architecture, don't you?" "Those people, collared, on a leash. Are your slaves? Is this what's gonna happen to me?"

they seem so happy, their eyes filled with bliss their mouths drooling each other's saliva and they seem no to care about a thing which is not their own tongues twitching and swirling "Slaves? Dirt, no! Absolutely not. My dear, those are pets. Domesticated sophonts, and we love our pets so much." "I was told that you enslaved people, keeping them drugged and compliant and used them as your servitude or to do menial work for your empire..." "The rebel propaganda really got you there, my beautiful terran. No, not at all. Well, they are drugged most of the times. That part is true, but I can assure you they really like it. As you did, a couple of days ago when we had our first chat." "What will be of me?" "Well, techinically you'd have been sent to forced domestication since you are a rebel. It is also true, though, that you did what you did and that would make you a defector. In addition to that you surrendered without any resistance and moreover you gave us some very useful intel." "So?" "So, my dear, I filed a special plead for you. You won't be assigned to forced domestication. You will stay here for a while and then we will drop you wherever you like on Jupiter. Lastly, we will grant you the status of 'independent terran', unless..." "U- unless?" "Unless you'd actually want to stay and be a pet, my dear. Oh you would be the cutest of them all. You'd have to either pick or be picked by an owner and you will live forever in care and bliss." oh god oh god a pet? would I be a good pet? I mean those two earlier seemed to be happy but maybe there were only high as fuck but being a pet seems so nice

"An owner, like you?" "Ah, you're saying this, not me~" "I- I don't know." "There is another little thing I forgot to mention." "Now you're scaring me." "Good, you will learn to fear the giant plant girl which work consists mainly in interrogating and inflicting terrible tortures to rebels." "...Sinea..." "Just kidding, just kidding! Look at your face, stars you are so damn cute! Anyway, I saw from your medical report that you were under special medications for HRT, am I correct?" "Y-yes." "Well I think it is worth mentioning that the meds you were taking are nothing more than candies compared to our Class G. Which is basically the same thing but way more advanced and effective." "Oh..."

is she lying? maybe she wants to drug me again but maybe I can trust her, she's been so kind with me and advanced HRT is a dream come true

"Am I picking your interest there?" "Y-yes." "Of course this is not to convince you at all. I am just saying that here you will be loved in a way you have never experienced. You are free to go whenever. Just say a place on Jupiter and we'll drop you there instantly, Deena." "I need some time. I am tired and it's a lot to process." "That's perfectly understandable, little one. Want me to carry you?" "..." "Stars, when you give me those puppy eyes I- I simply can't! Come on. Here." "Those pets."

god they seemed so happy I was envious? jealous? yes that's the word

"Those pets, yes." "Those pets." "Yes those were pets. Do you have any specific consideration you want to make here or are you simply stating a matter of fact, my dear?" "They seemed so happy. Their kisses so blissful, their minds overwhelmed with joy and passion." "Florets usually do that. Here they are safe, protected, free to explore their true self, their true nature. Nobody judges them and the joy you saw in their eyes was certaintly shared by their respective owners."

"I would like to talk to one of them, if possible." "I have a better idea. There will be a little social gathering among florets later, their owners will be there but they won't interfere too much in their interactions. While I am not still your owner, I am your temporary ward so I can vouch for you. There you can talk to any of them and maybe even do something more than talking~" "S- still?"

what does she mean with still? still? she wants me to be her pet? what?

"Uh?" "You said you are not still my owner." "No, no my dear you must have misheard. I said that I am not your owner, which is true. I mean I could be your owner if that's what you want but the choice is yours and only yours."

maybe I misheard? I am sure she said that but I'm also tired and the feeling of her vines around me are so beautifully distracting

"I- I think I'm sure of what i've heard?" "Aw darling~ you are so tired, sometimes it happens to misheard stuff when we are tired. Misheard or projecting. Anyway, would you like to go to the floret's gathering?" "Maybe you're right. I am really tired but yes, Sinea, I'd love to go." "Very well, but first I must to inform you that I won't let my ward take part in a social event without some glowing up. You still smell of surgical sanitizer and your dress is unacceptable. I have a reputation." "Sure..." "That's my good girl. We will go at mine, have a bath, some grooming and I'll provide you with something suitable to wear."

hehe good girl~ wait a second a bath, a dress? what am I a doll? but I don't want to make her feel bad at the gathering I guess I can see how it goes

********

#floretposting #hdg #human domestication guide #affini

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little-annie · 2 years ago

Text

In This Lifetime

---

Vecna's dead and the gates are closed and life is finally back to normal.

Well except for one thing.

Eddie's entire view of Steve Harrington has been tipped on its axis, shattered, booted off a fucking cliff. Whatever you want to call it. Because, well, the guy's not an asshole. He's strong and passionate and so goddamn caring. He's probably the kindest, most giving person Eddie's ever met and although he'd like to say he doesn't know what to think of it, we'll he does. And he thinks he's in love.

Steve Harrington is like fucking sunshine and unfortunately for Eddie's fragile heart, that glow of light doesn't fade.

They become friends. Best Friends. Nearly inseparable. Attached at the hip throughout the years.

They move to Chicago together, rent a shitty two bedroom apartment that maybe as well be one because they still have nightmares and being plastered next to one another seems to calm those terrors.

They laugh and they sing and they dance around the kitchen while they smile and cook and inevitably burn whatever meal they had planned, opting to order pizza instead.

Eddie's in a band and Steve never misses a show.

Steve's in school, planning to become a Guidance Counselor and Eddie's by his side quizzing him with the reward of candy in hand.

It's perfect, living life together in domestic bliss. Even if all they are is only just friends.

But it's still perfect all the same and if it was up to Eddie, he'd spend the rest of his life in these years. Repeat them again and again, if only to fall asleep at Steve's side and wake up to honey-brown eyes every morning.

But he knows it can't always be like this and that's why this is the hardest thing he's ever done.

This is the hardest thing he's ever done, and he's done some difficult shit. Like surviving a near death experience in literal hell being the main contender. But sitting across from Steve Harrington as he turns a little golden ring between his fingers and goes over his proposal plan, yeah that's pretty fucking difficult.

And it shouldn't be, he should be excited, he should be cheering for his friend but there's a gnawing feeling in his gut that's telling him it should be him. It should be him that Steve drops to a knee for, it should be him that Steve professes his undying love to, it should be him that'll one day get to call this man his husband.

But it's not. It's not because even though he's known this ragtag group of monster hunters for years now he's never been able to come to terms with telling them that he's gay and he sure as shit hasn't come to terms with telling Steve Harrington that he loves him and loves him in a very much not 'just friends' kind of way.

So that's why when Steve asks him what he should say to this woman [Becky, who quite frankly could double as Eddie's twin] he spills the beans. In a very subtle way he supposes. He doesn't come out, doesn't outright tell Steve he loves him, but as he's telling Steve what to say to his future fiancé, he's letting his emotions come out like word vomit, only wishing Steve knew he was talking about him.

"I don't know man." Eddie huffs, shuffling uncomfortably in his chair, eyes avoiding Steve's as he contemplates his words.

But it's hardly more than a few seconds before they come tumbling out, Eddie sucking in shaky breath before he stares into the carpet and begins to speak, "Tell her she's like sunshine, beautiful and bold and the source of life. That she's like the blood in your veins, forever present in the most beautiful way and the only thing that keeps your heart beating. Tell her that even on the most difficult days that she's the one you want to see, the one you want to hold, the one that makes you take the breath you need and steady your heart when it's beating out of control."

It's a building thing, slowly growing out of control, he can feel his pulse thrumming in his veins and he's beginning to think he might just do something crazy. He pauses for a moment, gauging Steve's expression. He'd gone to get them beer and hasn't bothered to sit back down since Eddie began talking. There's an indecipherable expression on his face and he's stood still, in front of the couch, beers on the coffee table and he's silent, waiting for Eddie to continue.

And you know, if Eddie was a normal man he'd stay in his chair, talk to his friend from an acceptable distance away and not profess his love, but he's not. He's a showman and as his acting skills get the best of him, he's moving, shuffling across the carpet, taking Steve's hand in his own and kneeling before him. Because why not make this a harder interaction for himself. Christ, it nearly feels like the real thing as he looks into Steve's eyes and shuffles the littlest amount closer.

Eddie shudders a breath, taking a single second to appreciate this moment, even if it'll never truly be real and then he continues, "You get down on your goddamn knee Steve Harrington and you say, ' Sweetheart you're the only thing that keeps me alive in this crazy fucked up world. Having you in my arms and my heart keeps me steady and breathing. I've been through some shit, but I'd go through it all again to find you in the end. The blood, the sweat, the tears, nearly fucking dying to be by your side for the rest of my life. I want to grow old with you Darling, I want us to grey and weather together. To find ourselves fifty years from now watching our kids and our grandkids; all the life we've brought into this world. All the love our life together has brought into existence."

Eddie's crying now, because of course he is, he's confessing his love to someone he knows will never hold the same emotions for him, but through a watery laugh and a sniffle he carries on, tightening his grip on Steve's hands.

"I want you in this lifetime and the next, in any way that you'll have me. I can't bear the thought of a single day without you let alone an entire lifetime. I'll find you, I promise I will Sweetheart, but for this lifetime, I ask that you spend the remainder of it with me."

It's cheesy, he knows, but it seems to take effect because as he looks into the eyes of the man above him he sees the swell of tears gathering along thick dark lashes.

The room's suddenly silent, save for the pounding of Eddie's pulse in his ears and the hope that Steve didn't see through his actions or words. That all he saw was his rather expressive friend acting out as per usual.

But a tear finally escapes and rolls down Steve's tanned cheek and a rather aggressive sob breaks past his lips.

Eddie's to his feet in seconds pulling Steve to his chest, one arm firmly around his waist while another wraps around his shoulders and cradles a head of mousy hair as close as he can. Steve's sobbing, short shaky breaths and surely there's snot and tears staining Eddie's shirt, but it's not like he can say much, what with silent tears streaming down his own cheeks and dripping to Steve's hair.

Steve hiccups around a sob, voice shaky and muffled against Eddie's shoulder, "I can't do this."

God, that's not what Eddie wanted to do, he didn't mean to scare Steve away from his impending engagement. No matter how much he wished it was him. He loves Steve, but if he can't have him, he just wants him to be happy. He deserves happiness. He deserves love.

Even if it's not with him.

Eddie cards his fingers soothingly through Steve's hair as he speaks, "Yes you can. I know you can. Steve, you love her, you're just scared. You can do this."

Another sob heaves against Eddie's chest while Steve continues to shake in his arms, "I can't Eddie."

"Why not Sweetheart?"

Steve's knees give out as a pained nose escapes his throat, dropping to the floor, taking Eddie with him, he doesn't answer, only continues to cry and burrow into Eddie's chest upon settling into their new position on the ground.

He's verging on a panic attack, Eddie knows this, he's seen it many times before. The way Steve's fists clench in his shirt and his breaths are short and sudden, gasping for air that's not filling his lungs, he's flushed white and Eddie knows it's only a matter of time before he gets sick.

"Stevie, come on, you gotta settle down. I'm sorry if I said anything wrong, I didn't mean to if I did. We can talk about it later. But right now you just gotta breathe for me okay." Eddie grabs Steve's hand, tight fist and all and holds it against his chest, allowing Steve to feel his steady breaths, "Breathe in with me, come on Big Guy. Take a deep breath in." Eddie takes a large lungful and holds it for a second, waiting for Steve to do the same and even though it's shaky and raspy he manages.

They repeat this process ten times over, Steve's head and hand now resting against Eddie's chest, their backs to the couch, the rooms fallen silent enough that only muffled sniffles are audible aside from the hum of electricity and the joyous screams of children outside.

After a moment, Steve wiggles himself closer, if even possible and again states, "Eddie, I can't do this."

He's not quite sure how to answer, really. Should he push or should he allow Steve to call off the engagement before it even happens. Lord knows where his own wishes lie. "You wanna tell me why you think you can't do this?"

Steve's breathing picks up again, but before he can reach hysterics Eddie's fingers card through his hair and he soothes Steve back to baseline.

"You," Steve whispers after quite some time of Eddie waiting for a response. It's a quiet thing, Eddie wouldn't have even heard it if he wasn't intentionally listening for Steve to say something.

It's a pain in the chest to know he may be the reason for Steve not to propose, sure he wished it wouldn't happen, but not like this. For him to say something so stupid that makes Steve call the whole thing off, "I'm sorry if I-"

He doesn't have time to finish his sentence before Steve's speaking, "No, not like that, you have nothing to be sorry for Eds. Its just- fuck- I wish I could tell you."

Combing his fingers through Steve's hair, Eddie reassures, "Steve, you can tell me. Please. I want to help."

Steve shakes his head, wrapping an arm tight around Eddie's waist, tucking his head in close, "It's nothing you can help with Eddie."

Nosing against the side of Steve's head, hair tickling his nose, Eddie whispers, soft, gentle, scared to frighten Steve off, "Try me."

And then it's silent. Dead quiet and for quite a long while. He knows Steve will answer, he knows he's just gathering his words, sorting things out before he speaks. It's obviously something big, something important to have warranted such a reaction from such a strong man.

It's with a sudden movement that Steve's sitting upright, turning to face Eddie with the appearance of confidence and sheer fear on his face. He looks fucking terrified. Working his jaw, eyes darting all over Eddie's face before he finally settles on his eyes and speaks, "I love you, okay." The words are far from gentle, they're sharp, rushed, sudden, like if he didn't get them out they'd burn a hole in his throat, but before Eddie has a second to even process those few words, Steve's barreling on.

"And when you were down on your knee infront of me, I wanted nothing more than for that to be the real thing, for those words to actually be directed towards me because I love you so fucking much it hurts. And I get it, I do. I know you're straight and we can never be a thing or really even get married but Eds, fuck, I love you so much and I can't marry Becky knowing I feel that way about you. I was going to try because I knew this could ne-"

He knows what Steve was meaning to say, but Eddie had to cut him off before those words could be spoken into existence because they're wrong. It can happen. Holy fucking Christ, Steve's loves him. It can all happen.

"I love you too," he says with such haste, taking Steve's face into his hands as he speaks with so much passion it nearly hurts, "-so much."

Cheeks squished in Eddie's grasp, Steve's eyes begin to well with tears once again, but now, now a smile is fighting its way to his lips, only growing with utter disbelief as Eddie quietly says, "and I meant every word of it. Every fucking word Sweetheart."

Steve's eyes search Eddie's own for only half a second before their lips crash together. It's a feverish thing, years of pent up love and need crammed into a single embrace, but their lips move as if they've met a million times before. And maybe they have. Maybe through the thousands of years this little rock in space has been turning, they've never left one another's side. Maybe they do find each other in every lifetime. Maybe they fall in love against all odds. Maybe this lifetime is no different.

Many Years Later

Turns out, it's not different at all.

When the time comes, so does the real proposal. It's been planned for years and when word of legalisation reaches Eddie's ears he's running to Steve. Dashing through streets, shouldering past strangers and dropping with a painful thud to the hardwood of Steve's office floor. In those few short moments to follow, the life he wished to have so many years ago becomes a reality.

Steve's his fiancé.

Soon to be his husband.

In this lifetime and the next.

---

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fic rec #steddie fanfiction #steddie headcanon #steddie fic #steddie fandom #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve x eddie #eddie x steve

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scrollonso · 2 months ago

Text

Pastries — Pedroscar

Pedro doesn't know when he crossed the line from staying the night to practically living in Oscar’s loft. It happened sometime around stolen kisses and whispered ‘I love you’s, and in his blissful ignorance, half of his closet ended up here. It works out well for him — there's an amazing little coffee shop right around the corner with the best coffee he can easily grab in the mornings on his way to the airport before either going to fulfill his wag duties or taking Oscar to fulfill his.

It's much more convenient, and that's why he's here so often. Obviously.

It has nothing to do with the fact that being around Oscar feels like being complete. When Oscar looks at him or touches him, his heart jumps into his throat, and he loses all hope of sanity. This was supposed to just be fun, and he doesn’t know when it turned into something so beautifully serious, something that occupies his every waking thought like the haze of a wonderful dream.

It’s Saturday morning. Pedro spent his Friday night FaceTiming with Aleix and Jorge, watching movies together on different coasts but pressing play at the same time, laughing and joking and chatting like they were in the same room despite the true distance between them. Of course, they’d given him hell for being in Oscar’s apartment when he was half way across the world and hadn’t let him live down the fact that he was down bad for that man, and they could see right through his flimsy excuses.

“Really, Pedro? He needs you to water his plants? We don’t see any plants!”

He’d helped himself to the craft beers in Oscar’s fridge and had nowhere to be today, so maybe he’d had one more than he should have, and maybe now he’s paying for it with a headache and a late morning in bed. If he were feeling a little better, he’d maybe crawl out from under the duvet and have a meal prepped for Oscar when he gets back, but before he could even complete the thought, he’d fallen back asleep, unbothered and unworried. There will be plenty more Mondays he can make them breakfast.

Oscar loves knowing that Pedro will be waiting for him back at the loft when he gets back. It’s just so much more convenient, knowing that Pedro will be right where he needs him, especially after a race like last night’s. Another fucked up race strategy, little to no sleep, not much time to get any food down either. He’s exhausted and ready to be in his bed with his soft boyfriend wrapped up in his arms. The fact that he doesn’t have to call Pedro and explain why today he needs a little bit more physical affection is just one of the pluses of Pedro practically living with him.

They haven’t had the talk yet, but maybe they should. Maybe it’s time, and maybe it isn’t too soon, and maybe, just maybe, this is the natural progression and the way things are supposed to go. Oscar knows he always tends to care too much too quickly, but with Pedro, things feel real. Like this isn’t just an infatuation, this isn’t just someone to warm his bed. He’s in this for the right reasons, and he trusts that Pedro is too because he thinks this one will really break his heart if he finds out that’s not the case.

After parking his Mclaren in his usual spot, — Pedro's bike parked in the spot next to it — Oscar uses the fumes he’s running on to hurry down to the Spaniard's favourite spot and grab Pedro a coffee and an assortment of pastries, already preparing himself for the joke the younger boy will make about his last name. He’s too tired to think about pumping himself with caffeine right now, so for himself, Oscar orders an herbal tea. Oscar makes small talk with the baristas while they get his order together, gives them tired smiles, and laughs when they ask how Pedro is doing. It feels right, domestic even, chatting with these women, thanking them for the coffee and profusely insisting they only need a few pastries, that a few extra are unnecessary because it’s just the two of them, but he appreciates their generosity. He’s backing out of the door, calling goodbyes, lips upturned in a permanent smile that seems plastered onto his face these days.

The walk back to the apartment takes him only a minute, and Oscar takes a sip of his tea but wrinkles his nose, unimpressed. He’s never been much of a tea drinker, and this is just a reminder of why. Oscar’s keys jingle as he unlocks the loft and hurries inside, trying to be as silent as possible. Pedro hasn’t responded to his texts this morning, which probably means he’s still sleeping, and Oscar doesn’t want to spoil that. He toes his shoes off at the foot of the stairs, then creeps up, coffee in one hand, box of pastries in the other, silent but deadly as he approaches his sleeping boyfriend.

The pastries and coffee are dropped on the bedside table. Oscar hurries out of his jeans and t-shirt and practically dives under the covers as quickly as he can, laughing as Pedro startles and lets out a surprised sound that’s muffled by his pillow. “Sweetheart,” the word is groggy as Pedro fights the covers to sit up, his eyes squinting against the morning light. Oscar takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around Pedro’s torso and drag him back down into bed, his face buried into the juncture of Pedro’s neck and shoulder, breathing in the smell of clean sheets and a rich musk that’s all Pedro. They fall back into Oscar’s bed, legs tangling together, arms tightening around each other, fingers grasping for any purchase they can get. Oscar’s hand runs up Pedro’s spine, and his fingers tangle into Pedro’s hair at the base of his neck, and he just holds him there, their breathing falling into sync, the sheets tangled around them.

For a few seconds, they just lay there, silent and motionless. Oscar’s eyelids grow heavy, and he's on the verge of sleep when Pedro’s husky voice breaks through the haze.

“ ‘S that coffee?” His head pops up from the pillows, curls a beautiful array of bedhead. Pedro in the morning is gloriously unkempt, a true sight that Oscar loves to behold.

“Mmm, it is. Just how you like it.” Pedro reaches across them and paws at the bedside table, nearly knocking over the box of pastries in the process, and manages to wrap his fingers around the warm to-go cup with a small sound of relief. He pushes himself up on an elbow and takes a long sip, and Oscar watches while he savors the flavor and inhales the steam rising through the lid. “Good?”

He just gets a grunt of affirmation as Pedro takes another deep drink. He’s limned in morning light, his olive skin shining golden and his silhouette shadowed against the loft’s wall, and Oscar thinks he might be the luckiest guy around, to get to come home to this.

After another sip, Pedro sets the cup aside and huffs as he flops back down onto the pillows. He’s facing Oscar now, eyes hooded as he looks up at him through thick lashes. There’s an old hickey on Pedro’s collarbone that’s fading into a blushing lavender, and Oscar’s thumb finds it as he remembers making the mark the other night, which sends a shiver down his spine. His thumb traces downward, and he places a gentle kiss on Pedro’s bed-warmed skin and savors the feeling of satin beneath his lips.

Pedro’s fingers rake through his hair, and one of his legs hooks over Oscar’s waist, entangling them further. The bed is a mess of sheets and pillows and duvet, and this, Oscar knows, is what absolute bliss feels like. He buries his face in Pedro’s chest, pressing an abundance of kisses to Pedro’s sternum as Pedro’s leg curls around his waist and locks them together. Oscar’s arms move to wrap around his torso, and Pedro returns the movement, interlocking them completely. Slowly, tenderly, Oscar’s fingers trickle down Pedro’s spine, then back up, and Pedro huffs out a noise of contentment as his head falls back into the pillows once more.

“We should just never get out of bed,” Pedro muses, eyes closed against the light, lashes fanned against his cheek, Oscar’s golden boy.

“The good news is… I have nowhere to be for the next, ehh, eightish hours?”

“Eight hours, huh?” Oscar feels Pedro’s fingers against his shoulder, the other hand tracing through his hair in a way that makes him hum deep in his chest, like a cat purring out its pleasure.

“Eight hours. Mclaren want me to go down to the tech centre to talk, so theres that.” Each word he says into Pedro’s chest, still too comfortable to move, and while his lips are smashed against Pedro’s skin and the words come out a bit muffled, he doesn’t care. This closeness, this beautiful contact, is exactly what he’s been craving the past 96 hours.

Oscar used to miss the car when he was back home. Being in the garage was like being with his family. He got to come home to an empty loft and a tired life that felt like a rinse-repeat most days. The excitement was for work, and his passion was in his job. Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest lifestyle, but it did get him through a lot.

Now, the loft is never empty. It echoes with Pedro’s laughter and is brightened by his ever-present light that shines when Pedro walks into the room. Pedro is the breath of fresh air he was longing for; he’s the rays of sunshine at the end of a rainstorm, beckoning him home. Home isn’t always a place. Sometimes it’s a person, or people, and Oscar is so lucky to be surrounded by so many people who feel like home. Pedro included.

Pedro hums out a chuckle and nods into the pillows before leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Oscar’s head. “That sounds nice. I have no plans today either. Though I was thinking maybe we should hit up that farmer’s market in Birmingham today. Remember that lady selling ham croquetas? I need more of those in my life, like, yesterday.”

“But that would require getting out of bed.”

“They're are worth getting out of bed for,” Pedro says solemnly. It pulls a laugh from Oscar, and he nods.

“Croquetas it is, then. When does the market start?”

Pedro’s arms tighten around Oscar, and he shrugs, eyes still closed, face blissfully calm. “Noon, maybe? We have time.”

Oscar leans his head back to stare up at Pedro, taking him in and really appreciating this moment. The silence stretches, and Pedro cracks open one eye, nose wrinkling when he catches Oscar staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Oscar shrugs and kisses Pedro’s shoulder, then down his collarbone, nipping at his favorite spot right above Pedro’s heart where that mark already pools like a sunset. “I just love you, is that alright?”

Love is a big word between them, one they’ve never taken for granted. Pedro grew up knowing that love could be weaponized and used against him, and Oscar grew up wondering if love was really worth much, if he'd ever love a person how he loves cars. Between the two of them, their laundry list of problems is long, but somehow they’ve found and created a beautiful love out of it.

“I guess that’s alright,” Pedro agrees, shrugging slightly. But his smile is radiant, all white teeth and pink gums, stretching at the corners of his lips like he might burst. That smile says more than words ever could, and Oscar feels his chest swell with pride that he could be the one to put it there.

One of Oscar’s hands cups Pedro’s cheek, and he shifts, pushing himself up the bed so they’re at eye level now. He meets Pedro’s dark gaze head-on and doesn’t back off or look away, as if to prove his point. “Alright? Just… just alright?” His tone is lightly teasing, and his fingers skate along Pedro’s stubbled jawline before he presses a kiss against his neck. His teeth nip again, and Pedro sucks in a breath.

“Just alright,” Pedro agrees nonchalantly, his smile replaced by a smirk, his leg that’s wrapped around Oscar tightening, pulling their hips together deliciously. Oscar trails his lips down the column of Pedro’s neck, his tongue teasing at Pedro’s pulse point, soothing after the soft sting of teeth. It draws another small noise from Pedro’s lips, and his head falls back, exposing more skin to Oscar’s ministrations. There’s a beat of silence as Oscar’s lips continue back up Pedro’s neck, and then his lips are on Pedro’s, a soft, yearning kiss that conveys just about everything Oscar is feeling.

They kiss lazily, like this morning. It’s a bright, sunny thing, a feeling of warmth that starts in Oscar’s chest and spreads into his fingertips and toes, lighting him up from the inside out. Kissing Pedro is like laying in the sun, basking in its warmth and hoping not to get burnt. His lips move against Pedro’s, and one hand comes up to curl through Pedro’s hair, tugging him impossibly closer, closing all of the distance between them. They make out for a minute, lips working against each other, tongues tangling together.

Oscar pulls back, head falling onto the pillows as he looks at Pedro again. “I love you, too, you know.” Hearing those words from Pedro’s mouth is like the sweetest melody.

“I kinda figured,” he jokes, his hands going under the covers to poke at Pedro’s side lightly. Pedro wriggles, giggling as he moves away. Oscar takes the opportunity to sit himself up and roll on top of Pedro, knees bracketing hips, hands on each side of his head. He presses sweet kisses to Pedro’s cheeks and forehead, down his jaw to his neck, his lips tracing constellations along Pedro’s skin. Pedro presses one hand to Oscar’s chest, still laughing, head falling back as he meets Oscar’s gaze and smiles tenderly up at him.

“Eres un gilipollas. Get off of me so I can enjoy my coffee,” Pedro teases as he gently pushes at Oscar’s chest again and sits up on his elbows.

With a pout, Oscar falls back over to his side of the bed. Pedro adjusts his pillows so he’s sitting up and leaning against the headboard, then reaches for his coffee. “What are my pastry options?” he asks as he sips, letting out a contented sigh before looking over at Oscar. "Besides you, of course."

There it is. Oscar passes him the box, then wraps his arms back around Pedro’s middle and buries his face into his side. Pedro selects a croissant and takes a few bites, carefully eating over the box so as not to get crumbs on Oscar or in the bed. They sit in the blissful morning silence for a minute, Pedro enjoying his breakfast and Oscar just breathing in and out, relaxing after the rough shift he had. There’s a beauty to this moment, a kind of peace that isn’t easy to find amidst the stressful days, long work hours, and tragedies he sees. But for as much sadness as there can be, he’s also found joy right here, a little pocket of calm and serenity to come home to.

They have places to get to, things to do today, but for now, Oscar is content to just exist in this space with Pedro, to soak in these moments full of warmth and be. It doesn’t take long before his eyes droop and his breathing evens out, lulled by Pedro’s fingers carding through his curls. They'll get out of bed eventually, but for now Oscar is going to let himself enjoy this moment of peace.

#i'm rarepair royalty #as me and sage decided #kats chattin shit #f1 #formula 1 #op81 #pa31 #oscar piastri #pedro acosta #motogp #fanfic #kats motogp blurbs!#mclaren #quadlock #fic #rpf #ao3 #domestic fluff

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lesbiansforlaurencezvahl · 6 months ago

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soooo random but what’s your opinion on most popular aphmau ships ?

OMG HIIII IM HONORED..... OKAY OKAY SO

first off I do not want to yuck anyone's yum!! I love that people love all of these ships and can find joy in it. Its my biggest pet peeve that people hate on people for loving stuff. I love that others love stuff :( these r just my personal taste!!

i fucking hate aarmau lol <3 it can burn in hell and I think its so bad and poorly written

garrence is cute! its not my go-to ship and I have no stronggg attachment to it but my best friends really really like it and I like exploring their dynamic + writing fic 4 them :3

i would die for laurmau. clenches my fist. they are. they are. they are the best thing on this planet. I've written a miny essay about it just because. when I have my Aphmau hyperfix I am actually so insane about them. @metelis-favorite once watched me remember laurmau existed. and then start to SHAKE. because I loved them so much. it was HUMBLING.

garmau is interesting becauseeee uhhhh I go back and forth. I don't think about them really romantically as a couple? again neutral on that.

(its funny because I lived in my sorority house this year and brought my Laurence doll @garrothromeave got for me and my roommate was like "oh we need to have garroth representation because I watched this when I was younger and I'm a .garroth stan" so we printed out a picture of garroth and they hung out together all year underneath the shotglass with boobs. UHHH and we would watch mcd. again. IN MY SORORITY HOUSE. HORRIFYING. and we would fight over garmau vs laurmau. society is HEALING.)

however I ADORE them as a platonic couple/soulmate kinda deal. they're so so so sweet!! again @garrothromeave and I have a playlist about em and I'd love to talk about it more :3

i LOVE LOVE LOVE garrencemau. its the perfect ship. again its interesting because I'm not passionate about garrence/garmau but I ADORE garrencemau its genuinely such a perfect ship. so cute.

i also love love zoeymau! one of the things I first got into when I got into Aphmau again. its so sweet. its THEE lesbian yearning. its so sweet. makes me go sniff sniff. I also love the angst potential with it. its so sweet :(( what do you MEAN Zoey gave up her immortality just to bring back Aphmau. what do you MEAN they live together and have two sons? WHAT THE FUCK JESSICA WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEYRE NOT MARRIED??

dante x kc is the cutest fucking shit in the WORLD. why weren't they canon in mystreet. we were robbed. ROBBED I TELL YOU. THEYRE SO SWEET. domestic bliss. THEE married hets ever. @bisexualsfordante says they should be called purple which is really cute

i don't care for zanechan. it feels lazy that they're shipped together. oh ones emo and ones pink? pack it up. bubbline wannabe or travlyn. it rubs me the wrong way and it feels underdeveloped lol

i have no real opinions on katemau but its cute! thumbs up to lesbians (heart eyes)

if you have any other ships you want me to talk about lmk!! I'm super hyperfixated on UHHH. Irene x Xavier (that guy that was mentioned ONCE LOL) so I don't care about any other ships. but I love aphmau :)

#aphmau #aphblr #laurmau #garmau #garrance #garrence #danchan #zanechan #travlyn #garrancemau #katemau #zoeymau #aarmau #aaron lycan #laurence zvahl #aphmau laurance #laurance zvahl #travis valkrum #garroth ro'meave

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sinner-sunflower · 7 months ago

Text

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 9/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

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

Charlie likes eating with people.

For a long time, it would be her and mom and dad. Then it dwindled down to just her and her mom, until eventually she found herself eating alone for the first time after her mom left.

The very same night, she swiftly disposed of the large dining table. Then, over the years, dining arrangements shifted; she often used a small coffee table or skipped the using one altogether, considering that Razzle and Dazzle didn't require food, and Keekee preferred eating on the floor.

Vaggie: Uhm, Charlie?

Charlie: Yeah?

Vaggie: Why does our dining area have ni table?

Charlie: What do you mean? There are tables right here.

Vaggie: That's cute and all but I think a giant communal table would be better. Don't we want people here to er get along and socialize?

Charlie: Ohmigosh! You're so right, Vaggie! How did I not think of that?! I'm ordering one right now!

Vaggie: Charlie, wait! Let see some options first!

When it arrived, they sat side-by-side to eat.

Vaggie: Don't worry. One day, this table will be full.

Charlie never imagined those words would become reality as she observes her friends—no, her family—exchanging stories, laughter filling the room every few moments. The lively chatter fills her with joy, making her feel giddy. She never wants to stop hearing it.

Vaggie: Hey. You alright?

Charlie: Mmm. Just got lost in thought.

Vaggie: If you're sure… Now eat. You know how Al gets when someone isn't eating his food.

She joined in with a few jokes, and even Alastor surprised everyone with a particularly risqué one that left Angel in a state of shock.

Alastor seized the moment to make his exit, but Angel refused to let him slip away.

Angel: Oh hell no! Come back here , Smiles! Who taught you that??? Smiles!-

She can hear Alastor bursting into mischievous cackling while Angel runs to catch him. Husk grumbles something about 'babysitting' but moves to follow nonetheless.

Husk: I guess I have to make sure the fucker doesn't get killed.

Cherri: Oh!!! I wanna see that! 50 bucks says freaky smile snaps.

Husk: I know better than to make a losing bet.

Nifty: Me! Me! I would bet my entire bug collection to Alastor sir saying a dirtier joke.

Cherri: Fuck yeah! That's the spirit!

Vaggie and Charlie are left to clean the dishes, enveloped in pure domestic bliss, only hearing the clinking of plates and running water. They worked together in comfortable silence until the task was completed, and then Charlie finally broke the quiet with her voice.

Charlie: I think I'm gonna go to my dad now.

Vaggie: Okay. Careful okay?

Charlie gives her lover a kiss before leaving. Before she even reaches the door, she sees Alastor there waiting for her by the entrance.

Charlie: Hey, Al. I thought you were with Angel and the others?

Alastor: I've sent them on a wild goose chase for now.

Charlie: Okay.. I'm going to my dad right now. Do you uhhh need me to pass a message to him?

Alastor only smiles like he usually does and produces a bouquet of flowers from behind. Marigolds.

Alastor: Just this, my dear.

Charlie's heart can't help but flutter.

Charlie: Dad will love these. Thanks, Al.

Alastor: Yes yes. Go along now. Your father awaits!

Her hotelier practically ushered her out the door, but despite his efforts to maintain his usual composed demeanour, Charlie couldn't help but notice the subtle blush creeping onto his face and the faint flattening of his ears.

Who knew Alastor could make an expression like that?

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

Keekee manages to beat Charlie by a significant time at arriving at the Morningstar Palace, though Charlie can't help but chuckle despite her competitive spirit. Though she did kinda forget that she needs her to know where her dad actually is.

Charlie: Hey, can you show me where dad is?

The familiar happily skipped through the labyrinth halls and as Keekee effortlessly morphed into the wall, Charlie's confusion shifted into realization. The walls split open just like it did to Lucifer.

She remembered now why she could never find the entrance to their old sanctuary despite countless attempts. After not finding the place by the 100th sweep, she just chalked it up to another made-up memory. But, it had always been right here.

'Hidden in plain sight.'

With her heart racing and excitement coursing through her veins, Charlie watched as the entrance widened before her. However, instead of the warm, nostalgic breeze that she had anticipated, she was met with a thick, dark smoke and fierce winds. She feels herself shiver from an unbearable cold- the type that's so cold, it burns.

Charlie: Dad! W-wah Where are you?!

Despite the pain of her constant hacking, Charlie steeled herself and pushed forward. She needs to get inside, her dad is in there!

Summoning a flame, she uses it to guide herself into the raging storm whilst shouting for her father.

Charlie: Dad, please!

And then, amidst the swirling smoke and harsh winds, she saw it: a figure lying on the ground, her dad! His eyes wide open and mouth agape as smoke comes out from within.

Charlie: Dad!

He can't hear her. Why?

Charlie: Dad! Wake up!

He always hears her.

Charlie: DAD!

She doesn't see the note clutched in his chest.

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

Luci just can't catch a break.

We going back to his POV next chap!

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dangermousie · 9 months ago

Text

His response (as he's scrubbing his hands of blood) is so telling. He puts on a little jokey face but we all know why he does not want his child to be like him.

Her response is very ladylike

But what is really interesting is actually his response to hers. It really highlights his issues - he's not just saying it to make her feel better - it goes along with the fact that he changes out of his bloodied clothes or helps her plant flowers no matter how tedious it is or w/e - he is good at brutality and killing and it's his job but he is not really proud of any of it and he clings to the care and creation of comfort and life she does. Because it's what makes his life bearable. (But the tragedy is, of course, that she can sit making baby clothes or cooking or planting bonsai or w/e, the ultimate caretaking things because her husband is out there murdering (including other families) to create a safe environment for her. If he didn't have power or had it and lost it, her ability to live in peace as a creator would last about five seconds. Just like Princess Agents, this is a hell world.)

It's made clear he pursues power not as much for kicks as for safety, but the result is the same, isn't it? To keep being safe, you have to take more and more risks, like you'd have to run harder and harder just to stay in the same place.

(This is especially interesting because convos like this indicate he's not another Lord Yang in terms of being mad for power. But in that system, it doesn't matter, he will have to chase it and get more and more ambitious to survive. Fun!)

Anyway, she's no dummy but as I said, this is the most she allows herself and when he lies, she does not chase it. They are both very aware their house of bliss is actually made of glass.

I wonder if he was an orphan. Which would explain no family around and his treasuring domestic haven he has.

Well, all that means in that world, is now people have a hostage (two?) against you.

#cdrama #liu yuning #eternal brotherhood

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demoiselettes · 2 years ago

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HELLO I was wondering if I could request some Sanemi cause like-

Y’know

🥰😍😫🥺🙏😋💕💋

So I wanted to request a Sanemi x female reader who is very clumsy?? Like she is always tripping, stumbling, breaking things and making very poor choices like climbing a shelf that is VERY UNSTABLE to reach something high, and Sanemi always has to jump in and save her, leading to him scolding her (gently), but the lil clumsy reader just giggles and Sanemi is just like angry boy mode, slightly blushing at her cute giggles.

I’d like it to be that Sanemi is our husband and we are his wife and we live in his estate.

Drabble or hc you pick <3

I like to give the writers some choices hehe

Btw I saw your request you sent me, I plan on writing it this week, so I won’t ignore it >:3

HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT

I litterally want to grab his face and 💋💋 MWA

Domestic bliss

Pairing: Sanemi x reader

Category: fluff

Warning(s)/note(s): fem! Reader

+ Zubbueeeee 🥹 look how cute he is omgggg and dw take all the time you need on that request, and don’t overwork yourself 💕💗💗💗

« What..the fuck are you doing. »

The ceiling was within reach. Only one step more, and you’d be able to hang the good luck charm above the entrance to your estate. It was perhaps wistful thinking, but you’d been hoping that maybe the Gods would look your way and give your husband the strength needed to remain alive with his job. You were ready to take whatever initiative it would require to keep him well and happy.

You looked back down at Sanemi, who looked like he’d run all the way to where you were perched on the ladder. Behind him, kakushis quivered and for once it was out of concern. You wrinkled your nose at them; you’d told them not to tell Sanemi what you were doing.

“That’s it. Get your pretty ass down before you fall and break your skull.”

You pouted. “I’m not gonna. It’s okay- look, i just need to..” you felt yourself being rocked. You cast your eyes down and shook the ladder slightly, to check its stability.

“[Name]-!” Sanemi ran forward and gripped the foot of the ladder. When he looked up, there was a veil over his eyes. “Fucking get down.”

By an ironic twist of fate, your foot slipped from the bar it was rested on. The kakushis screamed. The world tilted, you suddenly felt light. Then you were falling.

The impact never came though. You were cushioned in his arms before you’d even realized it and he was holding you tight against his chest. The ladder toppled over and landed heavily on the floor, the kakushis recoiled back. You looked up sheepishly, nearly fainting when you saw his expression.

It was that turn-to-stone face he’d mastered and would only show to people who were really about to face hell. The kakushis seemed to get the gist since they very slowly and subtly ran away. You envied them.

When he said nothing for a count of 5, you knew you had to pitch in to at least smother what was to come. “Listen, i’m sor-“

“How many times—“ he shook you violently, like a konpeito satchel. “—have i told you to stay out of trouble?”

You pulled on his uniform, tugging with all your might. “I’m- i’m really-sorry-“

When he set you down, his arm still wrapped around your waist in a grip that told you you wouldn’t be escaping him anytime soon, he pulled on your cheeks. “If the kakushis hadn’t told me what you were up to, you would have fucking fallen.”

“And you were worried, right?” With hopeful eyes, you placed your own hands over his own that were on your face.

« Wha- of course, i mean-« you watched him turn redder by the minute, fumbling for words, trying to deny the undeniable. You knew he cared about you, otherwise you wouldn’t have been tied by the sacred bonds of marriage ever since you took those sake sips. But your husband was a little too.. reticent to admit it.

« You trip on air, [Name]! » he spat out, effectively evading the subject. « Who told you to climb a ladder? »

You opened your fist to show him the charm you’d clutched tightly when you’d fallen. The paper was creased. “I was hoping to hang this over the entrance,” you explained. “It.. it might have protected you.”

You cast your eyes away, cheeks ablaze. “Okay, i know it’s stupid but-“

It was so nice, this ability he had to take you off guard with mere actions that would have you fainting. His lips were pressed against yours. It was light, feathery, skimming over your lips and chasing still.

“I’ll hang it for you,” he announced quietly when he’d pulled away. The charm hung from his hand, you couldn’t even tell when he’d taken it from you.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #nanako’s blues #nemi’s love #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader fluff

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partyofwords · 1 year ago

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Only Soft for You ~ *Samatoki Aohitsugi*

Summary: Ever since the two of you started dating, you’ve begun seeing a softer side of him. Because let’s be honest, he’s only soft for you.

Pairing: Samatoki Aohitsugi X G/N!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 806

Warning: Absolutely devastating fluff, so fluffy it’ll give you cavities

Masterlist

Taglist: @soulangel

Many will call you a liar. Others simply won’t believe it. Jyuto will laugh right in your face. And Rio, well, he doesn’t care either way. But you swear it’s the truth.

Samatoki was soft for you.

Honestly, you didn’t quite believe it yourself. But ever since your relationship with him became serious enough for the two of you to start living together, you’ve noticed the subtle changes in him. He came home at a decent time and would make food for the two of you to share. He also seemed clingier when you slept together. He was just different behind closed doors.

But he would rather die than admit it.

Now, today was your three year anniversary, and your first anniversary living together. Samatoki promised you a dinner for two and a walk along the beach. It was simple, sure, but you didn’t need a big fancy date to know he loved you. If anything, simple dates like this proved just how much he loved you without making a big deal about it.

It was four o’clock on the dot when Samatoki texted you quickly, a small smile on his face. Grabbing his jacket, he slipped out of his office and headed straight for you. Of course his subordinates tried to persuade him to go out that not, especially considering he seemed more dressed up than usual. But he brushed them off, telling them that he was taking the night off.

“Wah! Say it ain't so, sir!” One of the underlings wailed. “You never take time off.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well today it is. So try not to get into too much trouble or I’ll never hear the end of it from Jyuto.”

Before they could keep him from you any longer, he got into his convertible and drove off. Of course this was the exact moment Jyuto decided to call him. Groaning, he answered it, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He was already a couple minutes late.

“What do you want?”

“Where are you headed?”

He looked around but didn’t notice any cop cars. “Why do you care?”

“Rio invited me to his camp for dinner. Like hell I’m going to do that. So I’m going with you.”

“The fuck you are!” Samatoki snapped. “I’m busy tonight and you’re not coming. Figure out a different excuse.”

He ended the call before he could yell at him. He made a quick stop before finally making it home. Smiling, he snuck up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle and kissed your neck. He set the flowers he got for you on the vanity table beside you.

“You look amazing.” Samatoki mumbled into your neck.

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips and you touched his cheek. Your outfit perfectly complimented his royal blue silk shirt he usually wore on special occasions. You had your hair all done up and bought new shoes just for today. You both looked like a couple of movie stars.

“I could say the same thing about you, handsome.”

He chuckled. “I’ll get started on dinner, okay?”

“Do you want some help?”

Shaking his head, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “No. Today is all about you.”

You pouted. “It’s about you too, you know. I’ll set the table. Fair?”

He sighed. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to talk you out of helping him. And he didn’t mind it all that much. So he nodded and got to work making your favorite meal. The two of you talked about your days and anything else you wanted to tell the other. The sweet domestic bliss of the moment made Samatoki feel complete and full.

With you, he was able to put aside all of his troubles and anxieties. He wasn’t Samatoki Aohitsugi, second-in-command of the Katen Family, or leader of Mad Trigger Crew. He was your Samatoki and even though it was kind of embarrassing to him, he was wrapped around your fingers. And he was fine with that. Besides, you only used your power for evil on the very rare occasion.

When dinner was done, you took his hand and led him to the beach not too far from where you both lived. Again, the two of you talked and splashed each other occasionally with the ocean water. He was having so much fun with you, he completely lost track of time. However, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he remembered his special plan he came up with a couple weeks ago.

Taking your hand and holding your face gently, he said, “Y/n, you are one of the most special people in my life. I couldn’t imagine living one second without you. And so I want to ask you, will you marry me?”

“Oh my God! Yes!”

#Hypnosis Mic #Hypnosis Mic Fanfiction #Hypnosis Mic Drabble #Anime #Anime Fanfiction #Anime Drabble #Mad Trigger Crew #Samatoki Aohitsugi #Samatoki Aohitsugi X Reader #Samatoki Aohitsugi Fanfiction #Samatoki Aohitsugi Drabble #Samatoki Aohitsugi Fluff #Samatoki #Samatoki X Reader #Samatoki Fanfiction #Samatoki Drabble #Samatoki Fluff #Drabble #Fluff

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haphazardlyannotated · 2 years ago

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The Locked Tomb/Steven Universe Crossover

This crossover was inspired months ago by the random thought "Hey, Pearl would definitely want to be Rose's cavalier" and hasn't left me alone since. So here you go, niche audience of one! (It's me. I am the audience)

First of all, yes, Pearl has to be Rose's cavalier. Not only does it neatly align with Pearl's knightly devotion and the institutional power imbalance they're both trying to ignore, Pearl absolutely is the kind of person who would take "my not-wife refuses to kill me and eat my soul in order to attain immortality" as a terrible rejection.

She's so insane about Rose, she'd fit right in in this universe (pun not intended). Also, the cavalier-necromancer romance taboo works excellently for Pearlrose. For one, of course, the forbidden romance. Cav!Pearl confessing to necro!Rose that she's been dreaming about running away from the Houses together to live in domestic bliss on a nice moon somewhere has the exact same vibes as su!Pearl's confession in Now We're Only Falling Apart. But more importantly, cav!Pearl giving Rose's suitors a "You may have caught her eye, but I am her cavalier; she swore an oath to me; our fates are entwined till death do us part" speech only to go to her rooms and wallow in how the very position that ensures she'll be by Rose's side forever is what will forever keep her from pursuing her true feelings is too good.

Meanwhile Rose is in the next room going "Oh woe is me, for I am a cruel, selfish woman, to keep the love of my life from the glory she deserves! Alas, I can't bear to let her go, even though I know in my heart that her care for me is only the rightful, proper care of a cavalier for her necromancer! The least I owe her is not to take advantage of our pure, sacred bond, so I shall go and drown my sorrows in another fleeting affair!"

Writer's choice whether they miraculously manage to communicate before Rose gets herself killed in one way or another, but ironically the dystopian 50% character death rate tlt verse is much more likely to give them a second chance than pastel redemption arcs su, because Steven Universe is a story about healing from trauma with the power of a supportive network of loved ones while The Locked Tomb endorses attacking the cold unfeeling universe with teeth and fingernails until it returns your girlfriend, and both of them are so valid for this.

In this case however it means, that instead of slowly healing, Pearl absolutely refuses to accept Rose's death to a Harrow and Camilla extent. Does she threaten to stab whoever takes Jod's role in this AU? Does she try to break into the Locked Tomb because to hell with the Houses, she's getting her wife back? Both? In any case, tlt rules demand that she succeeds.

Anyway, I put them in the Seventh House because roses.

As for the supporting cast:

Ruby and Sapphire are the Fifth House wholesome married couple who make Pearl and Rose stare in longing for what they cannot have.

Garnet is Paul. Obviously. Cue another, different kind of yearning for what could have been from Pearl. Poor Garnet has just come into existence. She doesn't deserve having to be everyone's emotional support already.

I struggled with figuring out a role for Amethyst for a while until it hit me: Wasn't it fun when Amethyst experienced self hatred over how the life was drained out of her planet to make her? Try being the result of two hundred child murders! Don't the inadequacy issues gain a delightful new dimension when your entire generation has been killed off in anticipation of your abilities? Guys, I think Amethyst is Harrow Nova.

I have no idea what plot has to happen for Rose to end up with Jod's baby, but that is the only role for Steven I will tolerate. And Connie is his cavalier. Obviously.

Peridot is sciency, Lapis is the quiet OP lady, and they're in a QPR. There was no way I wasn't going to make them the Sixth. HOWEVER. Due to how extremely OP Lapis is with an element manipulating power specifically. I decided that she's the necromancer and Peridot is her incredibly academically talented BFF who they're pretending is the necromancer so she can be along for the ride. This would be plot relevant if this crossover had an actual plot instead of self indulgent vibes only.

Jasper gets Judith's role. Completely loyal to the ethically dubious regime, absolutely convinced that she's the only one who is doing the right thing and everyone else is just not strong enough, ends up corrupted possessed by a Resurrection Beast.

Bismuth is a Blood of Eden commander. She would like to fist fight every single Uppercrust zombie, however, just like su!Bismuth, she is easily won over when a former Homeworld gem House zombie shows up on her planet and announces her intent to fight the Diamonds Jod and his Lyctors and/or bust into the Locked Tomb.

#su #steven universe #tlt #the locked tomb #su pearl #su rose quartz #su ruby #su sapphire #su garnet #su amethyst #su steven #connie maheswaran #su lapis #su peridot #su jasper #su bismuth #pearlrose #plot bunny up for adoption

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