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uranometrias · 9 months ago

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nobody ever loved me like you do, spencer reid

just a little prompt i couldn't get out of my head. this is majority fluff, it got kind of heavy towards the end, but no smut because i'm a coward, reader is a university student, there's an age gap between reader + spencer, unspecified, but reader is over 22. based off of 'pov' by ariana grande.

this absolutely got long as shit, i don't know how to be normal. (5.6k wrds)

"what's on your mind?" you hadn't realized you'd gone quiet until you feel the dip of the couch. it takes a moment to snap out of the little moment you've dug yourself into, but when you do you're pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend on the couch next to you. he grabs hold of the book you'd haphazardly discarded, and flips it over. you imagine internally he's tsking at you, he was always reminding you to be careful of the spine of the books you read, but you're happy he doesn't make a move to scold you about it now. instead, he closes it, and places it in his lap, letting his eyes trace all over your pretty face.

"is everything okay?" he prods, and in truth, you were fine. you didn't really know why you'd gotten so lost in your head, it just happened sometimes. domesticity was still fairly new, and despite the fact that your relationship with spencer had gotten to the point where you both were comfortable staying at each other's places for long periods of time, you still kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. spencer was the first guy you'd been with that was older, already established, had a 'big boy job' as you so eloquently labeled it. he had security.

not that you were some lazy, unprepared individual letting your life slip by, but you were still figuring things out. you were in university, and you had big dreams and hopes for your future, it just felt like it was taking forever to get there. to your future. everyone was always telling you not to wish away your youth, but by law you were no longer a child, you hadn't been for a while. your twenties were meant to be for 'figuring things out', finding yourself all over again, or that's what you were always hearing. over time it felt easier said than done.

the point was when you were still uncertain about what you wanted to spend the rest of your life doing, it was hard to feel grown up. especially when you had a boyfriend like spencer who was always doing something to raise the bar for humanity. he was a genius, he worked for one of the most prestigious units in the fbi, he was in the fbi... that in itself was an accomplishment. he had phds, bachelor degrees, and an extensive knowledge of literature in numerous languages and texts. to top it all off, he really was a great boyfriend.

you supposed it was just you feeling a bit insecure. you didn't believe that he expected too much of you, but that didn't stop you from putting unnecessary pressure on yourself. "everything's fine." you promise, and you tack on a warm smile to really sell it. the action triggers an involuntary smile from spencer, and you feel a bit faint, just because he's so pretty. "i was just watching you read." you admit, and it was true, you had gotten a bit lost in how quickly spencer was speeding through his own book. it didn't trigger insecurity, it just left you in awe at how absurdly lucky you were to have bagged spencer.

"yeah?" and he's got this edge to his voice that he usually gets when he's tired, sleepy, content. it was comforting, knowing that he was comfortable being here, like this with you. "are you sure that you're alright?" and he's leaning forward, hand cupping your cheek as he rubs his thumb over your jaw, and you lean into him. "you know you can talk to me about anything." he adds, and he's perceptive. you're certain that part of this has to do with his job, and the other part has a lot to do with the fact that he knows you so well.

"i know." you answer instantly, and you bring your hand up to hold over top his. "trust me, i know. that's why i like you so much." you beam brightly, and you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips. it's a peck, and it sounds like one with the way that your lips smack together. you note his disappointment when you pull away just as he moved to kiss you a bit more fiercely. you find yourself giggling a bit as he pouts at you, and you lean in to offer him another kiss.

"like?" he asks, and you know he's fishing, but for what you're not sure. his eyes never look as bright as they do when he's sitting across from you. it offers you a bit of an ego boost to know that someone as handsome as your spencer consistently looks so enamored and enraptured with you. "i thought that we were a little past like..." he says, and your nose scrunches up at his big doe-eyed stare. "am i wrong about that?" and he holds his breath.

"no, you're right." you promise, and he relaxes. "we're past that." spencer looks relieved, and you wonder sometimes what's going on in his mind. he doesn't say anything for a while, he just looks at you, his thumb continues to draw soothing circles on your face, and you think you might be convinced to fall asleep if he keeps it up. "i'm sorry." you offer, and spencer's immediately shaking his head at you.

"don't apologize." he presses, and he's peeling his hand away from your face. now it's your turn to be disappointed. "and if you don't feel like we're past the 'i like yous'... that's okay too." and he looks sad now. it's your least favorite expression on him, and you wonder if you've done something wrong. "i don't want you to feel like you're rushing yourself, okay? or like you're forcing yourself to feel anything that you don't." he says, and your eyebrows furrow inward, face contorting.

"i don't feel that way." you deny sternly. spencer's head tips to the side, curls following along, and the urge to run your hands through his hair almost chokes you out. "spencer, i don't feel that way." you reiterate, and you hate that his expression doesn't change. you hate that he looks like he doesn't believe you. "i have too many feelings for you." you admit, and you shake your head. "all of the feelings." you insist, and the problem is that you haven't managed to fully verbalize what that means. spencer's told you that he loves you, often.

you haven't managed to say it back, but not because you don't believe it. it's more so out of worry that once you tell him, things will get too real. you'll grow too comfortable, and by-proximity expose parts of yourself that spencer might not be ready for. things that'll make him run for the hills, and take his sweet i love yous with him. "that's a lot of feelings." spencer replies, and he sighs deep, chest moving with the action. you smile, mostly to ward off the tension.

he doesn't return it, and you suddenly feel anxious. "do you want-" he trails off, and he looks conflicted. "if you wanted to break up..." and your heart sinks. "you would tell me, wouldn't you?" he asks, and you immediately reach out for him, his hands curling into yours as you interlock your fingers. you want to slam your head into a wall, mostly for worrying him in this way. The last thing you'd been thinking about was a breakup, in fact, you'd finally resided yourself to the fact that you were in this relationship as long as spencer wanted you.

"do you think that's what this is about?"

"isn't it?" his quick retort makes you frown, and now you're facing one another with matching pouts. "i just want you to trust me with your feelings... all of them." he explains. "even the ones i might not enjoy the most." he treads lightly, and you find that there's nobody in the world who could matter more to you. "and i'm sorry if i haven't been doing enough to let you know that." and you huff in annoyance, but not with him. never with him. with yourself for overthinking.

"you've got it all wrong." you tell him, and you hope your words sound as definitive as they feel. "a breakup is the farthest thing from my mind." you shuffle a bit on the couch, mostly to invade the space he just took. you don't stop moving until he's back in your orbit, your knees brushing against his leg. "i've never met anyone like you before." and it feels cliche, but you suppose you've earned the right to quote the words, because they're true. "i think as far as expectations for boyfriends go, you managed to smash through them all."

spencer finds himself nervous under the onslaught of kind words. he can't look away from you though, because it's so rare when you let him into your head. despite all his profiling skills, you were still almost completely a mystery. he understood your physical cues, but the emotional ones were still hard to pinpoint. "i think sometimes i still keep waiting for you to realize how amazing you are..." and he has that annoying feeling of giddiness in his stomach. it feels childish, but he adores the rush loving you continues to give him.

"i think i'm a little aware." he says, and you laugh. your hands reach out, and now you're the one holding his face. he thinks it's a comfort thing of yours, the way you like to hold onto him when you're talking. his apprehension towards touch was no match for the way your hands on his face brought him a feeling of comfort like nothing else.

"and you still want to be with me?" you ask, and you don't sound bashful, more confused than anything else. spencer's confusion soon matches your own, his eyebrows furrowing as he recites your words over and over in his head. what sort of question was that? "i just mean that there's so many types of women out there... you work with so many." and your mind drifts to his closeness with the girls he worked with in the fbi. namely jennifer jareau.

you'd only met her a few times, you knew she was married with sons, but you couldn't shake the thought that if she wanted him she could have him. she was older, more confident, disastrously pretty. "i just don't understand why someone like you would want to be with someone like me." you express, and spencer is flabbergasted. he forces you to peel your hands from his face, instead choosing to hold your hands and squeeze them gingerly.

"someone like you?" and he wants you to get it all out, every last bit of it, mostly so that he can correct every incorrect notion about yourself that you expose.

"someone who's immature, naive, inexperienced, uncertain about almost every major decision... you know? someone like me." you divulge, and he winces. "you've got so much going for you, i just don't want you to feel like i'm holding you back." you admit. "so when i saw you reading... i don't know-" you trail off, and spencer's eyes shoot across the room to his own discarded book. "i guess i just remembered how incredible you are, and how severely inadequate i must be in comparison." and your voice gets quieter as you finish.

"you could never hold me back." he states firmly. "and even more than that... i don't think it's actually possible for someone to really hold you back." he admits, and you feel him beginning to start on a tangent, though you don't mind. they were far and few in between these days. "to me it always seemed more like an excuse people use to place blame on someone else for their shortcomings." spencer's let go of your hands, and you watch them as he gestures boisterously. "for everything i'm good at, there's so many areas where i fall short."

you don't think you've ever loved him more.

"and who says phd's and fast reading skills are what make a person better suited or fit for anything?" and he knows that you want to rebuttal, so he continues so you don't get the chance to. "my skills help me with the job that i do... we can agree that's true, right?" he asks, and you nod your head. "right. but, you don't want to have my job, do you?" he asks, and your nose curls up. you thought that what spencer did was admirable, you loved celebrating the victories with him, you knew it was important, but you don't think you had it in you.

"no, i guess not." you disagree.

"and you don't need to be called 'doctor' or hold a gun, or kick down doors, in order to be... a suitable life partner."

"you're not kicking down any doors, spencer." you crack a joke, and you like that he laughs, it's the kind that morphs into a toothy smile.

"maybe not, i just mean that out of the two of us, you're not the one who needs to worry about not being adequate... i don't think there's anything in existence that would make me not want to be with you." and you feel bashful, but know full well that you can't pull your eyes away from him. "you're a lot to lose." he exhales, and you blink. "and you don't need doctorates or much of anything for that to be the case." spencer beams a little bit, "you captivate people without even realizing it sometimes." spencer's hand moves to rest on your thigh.

"you think so?"

"sometimes i try and figure out how i got so lucky, and i hope that i keep doing whatever it takes to make you stay." he admits. "does that make sense?" he asks, and you feel your heart wanting to burst out of your chest.

"it makes a lot of sense." you agree. "and i can guarantee that as long as you want me, you'll have me." you promise.

"and if i want you forever?" he asks, and you smile despite yourself.

"then i guess you're stuck with me forever, doctor reid." and he likes the thought a lot more than he anticipated. he thinks that's why he can't ignore the urge to kiss you. he leans forward, lips overtaking yours like a magnet being pulled towards a kindred force. you almost pounce, finding yourself rooted on top of his lap, fingers finally finding solace in his hair, as his hands scope out your waist and the curve of your hips.

you hum when his lips peel away from yours, landing on your neck as he peppered the space with kisses and small bites. kissing spencer was a surefire way to get you both started down a path of insatiability. it was dangerous, but you supposed with the conversation context in mind, it made perfect sense for this to be the end result. still, it feels like there's more to say, and you suppose that it's why you tighten your hold on his hair just slightly, craning your neck to give him all the access he needs. "spence?" you gasp.

he doesn't verbally acknowledge you, instead his arms loop around you, bringing you closer as he proceeds to leave hickeys in areas that would be much too difficult to hide. "spence..." you try again.

"i'm listening." he promises before he's placing a kiss just behind your ear. it makes you squirm, suddenly feeling lightheaded as his grip on your waist tightens slightly.

"can you tell me again?" you ask, and you don't want to ruin the moment, especially after he just sweetly poured his heart out to you. "tell me how you feel about me..." you instruct a bit more impatiently. spencer's more interested in leaving more marks on your skin, but he also enjoys the vulnerability that comes with expressing himself to you. he pulls away from your neck with one last peck, before his lust-filled gaze is locked on yours. you've taken to raking your nails through his hair, gently dragging against his scalp.

"you still don't know?" he asks, and part of you thinks he's doing this on purpose. it's not until you register the slight upturn of his lips that you recognize that he's teasing you.

"is it so bad that i want to hear it again?" you press, and you're feeling a bit impatient, mostly because you're itching to finally spit the three word phrase out, but you want him to say it first.

"no." he denies, head shaking. "it's not bad at all, and i don't mind telling you, but, can you ask me the right way?" and you feel the shift, the way his fingers finally slip under your shirt. it makes you jump, the way his fingertips trace over the skin of your lower back. "what are you fishing for, pretty girl?" you don't have the courage to stare at him anymore, instead you find your head glued to his chest, eyes squeezed shut, as your arms looped around him.

"i'm not fishing." you deny, and spencer presses a swift kiss to the top of your head. despite the desire to 'get to the good part' that you know you both feel, you still enjoy this part. the clinginess, the way he showered you in attention and affection that you had never believed yourself worthy of. he loved you so openly, so easily. it never felt like a burden, it never felt like something he had to try too hard at. you liked that, you liked that he made falling in love so easy.

"no?" he doesn't sound convinced. "what are you hoping i'll say then? i know you have an idea." he says and his chin is resting on the top of your head as he adjusts you on his lap. the tension still rests in the air, but he's holding you like he's comforting you almost, arms looped around you in an almost-hug that feels warm and comfortable and familiar. it's the kind that you could get lost in, fall asleep in. maybe you will, just as soon as you get through this last little emotional hoop.

"you don't know everything."

"did i say that?" he corrects you lowly, he's not impatient with you, and you wonder how long it took him to garner enough stamina to keep up with your sass.

"no." you deny, and he hums in agreement. you've taken to running your hands up and down his back, palms closing and opening as you try and quiet your anxiety. "i want to hear you say that you love me again." you admit, and it feels like a lump is forming in your throat. "i know that you do." you add a second after. "but sometimes i like to hear it anyway..." you clear your throat. "it makes me feel-" and you trail off, because you haven't really gotten over this hurdle.

spencer's smiling, and you know that he is, because as much as he knows you, you think you know him a little bit too. "how does it make you feel?" he asks, and you shake your head, eliciting an amused sort of exhale. "you can tell me anything." he reminds you, and of course you know that. "or we could move on... if it's too much to say right now." he offers you an out like the gentleman he always has been. "do you want to go back to before?" and you definitely want to kiss him.

maybe do a bit more than kiss.

"yes." you agree, but when it seems like he's about to move, you hold him even tighter to you. "wait, no." you deny, and he's exhaling through his nose. you cringe, because you know that sometimes you can be indecisive, but you think about what he'd told you earlier. you remind yourself that he wanted you, and you calm down. "i want to kiss you again." you start, and he doesn't say anything, because he knows you're not finished. "but i want to finish our conversation first." you huff, and he's surprised, in a pleasant sort of way.

"we can do that." he promises, "what do you want to tell me?"

"i like when you tell me that you love me." you admit, and you think it's good that you're not looking at him. you also like that he's still lightly dragging his fingers along your waist, it makes you shy, but you welcome it. "it's not something that you just tell everyone, so i like that you tell me, even though i haven't said it back." you feel like you're losing your breath as you rush to get it out. "and i like how what you said earlier makes me feel."

"how's that?" and spencer is spencer. he likes to drag things like this out, he likes for you to elaborate, to explain yourself. you suppose he likes to hear you just as much as you like to hear him.

"i don't know how to express it really, but it feels nice. 'cause you always sound like you mean it when you say it." you freeze when his fingers stop their slow journey, but you don't have time to focus on that right now. "not like butterflies, but it's like stabilizing." you shrug your shoulders. "and it's not the sort of thing that feels like it comes with some sort of price. like i don't hear it, and think 'oh he's only saying this because he wants to sleep with me', it doesn't-" you inhale. "it doesn't make me anxious or anything."

spencer's disappointed that his memory mostly works for things he's seen rather than heard, because he wants to relive this conversation for the rest of his life. it's a bit unheard of, especially in his lifetime. he's seen people in love, he's witnessed incredible relationships, but nothing he's seen has ever compared to the way that you manage to make him feel. he's had girlfriends, one-night-stands, experimentations, and things in between that felt like they could be the real thing, eventually. being with you though feels easy.

even when things go wrong, when you're too stubborn to communicate, and he's too tired to fight for you to, it still feels easy. like the struggles that come with your relationship are struggles he's willing to deal with. you're someone he's willing to deal with.

"it makes me want to stay." you offer, and it's scary, mostly because you've got the world's worst habit of running away when things get too real. you packed your bags at the first inconvenience, it was who you were, who you had been before spencer. you didn't stick around to fight for your relationships, you didn't let anyone fight for you either. "like... like even if things go horribly wrong, it'll still be okay as long as you still sound like you mean it when you say i love you."

you don't think you'll cry, but you do think once you're all finished, you'll want to stay wrapped up in him like this.

"i've just never met anyone that makes life make so much sense." and your leg is slightly shaking, and you're burrowing even deeper into his chest, holding him just a bit tighter. "so please... can you tell me again?" you ask, and your hands have taken fistfuls of his shirt, curling just slightly as you try and will your heartbeat to slow.

"you all done?" he asks, and you nod your head, all done with talking for now. "i'm so proud of you." and your confusion is back, as well as your ability to talk.

"what for?" you inquire, and he unloops his arms from around you. you don't want to move, but you know where this is going. still, you decide you'll wait until he asks you.

"can you look at me, please?" he asks quietly, and you're immediately pulling back, hands in your lap as you take in all the emotions resting on your boyfriend's face.

"oh, spence!" and you hope he's not about to cry. you've never been privy to it, but you can imagine what it'll do to you in your emotionally high state. "i know that was a lot, i'm sorry." you apologize despite the fact that you've done nothing wrong, a bad habit.

"please don't ever apologize for something like that." he corrects you gently. "i'm proud, because i can imagine how hard that likely was, but you did it anyway, so thank you for sharing how you're feeling with me." you look away just for a second, the moment feeling too heavy for you to manage. you're looking back at him just a moment after, his stare something you've always been terrible at ignoring and avoiding. "would it be a let down if i told you that i feel the same way about you?" he asks, and you wonder if this phase ever ends.

you don't want to wake up one day and find that your smile no longer reaches your eyes when you look at him, or hear his voice.

"no." you answer quietly. "i like when you agree with me, especially about your feelings for me." and it's a small joke, one you partially mean. "but, you still haven't told me that you love me, yet." you remind him a bit more sternly than you have been.

"i know." he retorts, and he looks a bit smug. you want to say that you hate when he gets like this, but you know you're lying. "i'm waiting to see how long it'll take you to crack." he admits, and your nose curls. he beams at you, and you want to glare, just for the fun of it. "why are you determined not to say it first?" he asks, and you cross your arms over your chest, busted.

"you don't know what's in my head." you instead argue, and his eyes roll, but he still seems amused. "i can say it first if i very well wish." you add, and his eyebrows raise, a challenge. unlucky for you, because you had a problem with being challenged. you would always walk right into his trap like a fool.

"so then say it." he taunts, and you realize pride is one hell of a killer.

"fine, i will." you retort, voice laced in mock-aggravation. "i love you." you deadpan, you say it like it's a bother. "happy now?"

"not with that attitude. can you try again? say it like you mean it?" he presses, and you're weaker in the knees than you initially believed. all your bravado goes right out the window, and you're suddenly anxious again, with no bite to curb your words, you're certain he'll hear every ounce of emotion you feel towards him if you say it again.

"spence." you exclaim, and he's not moved. you think you hate him just a little. "it's not fair, you're being mean." you express, looking down at your lap, and you know that you're only behaving this way because you're overwhelmed.

"i'm not." he promises, and he ducks just a little so that you're looking directly at him again. "i wouldn't be, especially not about this." he adds. "i just want you to say it again for me, can you do that? please?" he asks, and you hate how absurdly handsome he is sitting across from you. he's got this way of looking innocent even when he's baiting you, and he's always got this intensity in his stare that's enough to knock the wind out of you. it's kryptonite, and precisely why you concede.

"spencer, i love you." he groans, quietly, but you hear him all the same. he's kissing you before you can react, and it's easy getting lost in moments like these. he always kisses you like he's trying to swallow you whole, too handsy for his own good. his kisses are desperate, tongue swiping out just slightly, likely to test the waters. you match his ferocity, and let your own tongue drag over his bottom lip before you press a bit more forcibly, hurriedly, desperately.

"i love you." you don't know why you're saying it again, but it's not as hard as the first time. you kiss him again, grumbling when he's quick to lean out of reach. you shoot him a sour glance, and he's not moved.

"hey, i love you too." he echoes you in the most love sick sort of way. it feels precisely as you had described it earlier, and that makes you happier. the fact that the feelings didn't change, didn't disappear all because you'd said the three words back. you hum contentedly, and then your head is back on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. "does it still sound like i mean it?" he asks, he questions you softly, like he's trying to preserve the moment.

"mhm." you answer quietly, and you strain to kiss his throat once, before your back to resting against him. "did it sound like i meant it?" you mimic his line of questioning, and you're happy when his arms are back around you. he's a lot more respectable this time around, but before long, his hands are finding their chosen place back under your shirt, exploring your waist and hips as you try not to squirm.

"yes." he replies, and you're glad to hear it. "can you say it again?" you suppose in the grand scheme, you do have lots to make up for. he'd probably want you to say it over and over again.

"i love you." it's instantaneous, as is the way spencer's hold on you grows more firm. you hadn't wanted to mention it, the way sitting here like this with him had you itching for more, but it seemed you weren't the only one in that headspace. "spence?" you question, and he's dragging his hand up and down your back, legs starting to bounce just slightly.

"yeah?"

"can we go back to before now?" you ask, and you expect him to be a tease. he could never just give you what you wanted, he always had to drag it out, and make you nervous.

"back to before?" he pries, and he's leading. you huff audibly, and you adjust yourself on his lap, trying to control the way the pit in your stomach seemed to grow warm, heating you up from the inside. "you'll have to be a bit more specific than that, love." he tsks, and you hate him.

"i just-" you frown, hating this part. "i want you." you deadpan. "and you know that, so i don't know why you're being like this." except you do, because it's amusing to spencer to watch you get all flustered and nervous. you don't know why, but it's how he is. you think that one day you'll try your hand at flustering him back, just to see what all the hype is about. "i want you to-" and you're not sure exactly what counts for too blunt with a boyfriend like spencer. "let's f-fuck, okay?" and spencer's got that stupid amused look on his face again.

god, you hate him.

"that wasn't too hard was it?" he questions, and you cut your eyes. you're certain he'll make you pay for the looks, and the smart mouth down the line, but you can't care right now.

"it was excruciating." you correct haughtily. "you should be ashamed of yourself for treating the girl that you love this way." you add, and spencer's got his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he takes you in. you gulp, shuffling just slightly as you realize precisely the predicament you've gotten yourself into.

"do you want me to make it up to you?" he asks, and he sounds breathier than before, which only serves to make you more of a hot-and-bothered mess.

"i-" you blink owlishly, unsure of his intentions.

"yes or no?" he presses, and you think either way this goes, your done for. "you've just got to say the word."

"yes." head nodding, eyes blown to hell, it's easy enough. "you should. you definitely should." you respond, and then he's kissing you again. he's much more intense this time, stealing all of the air out of your lungs as his nails scratch against your skin, you hands moving to cup his face, you hope to keep him anchored to you this way. when he breaks from the kiss again, you're ready to lay into him, only to squeak when he scoops you up, standing up from the chair.

your legs immediately lock around his hips, and you're panting already, he seemed to have that constant effect. all it took was a little kissing, and you were already a mess. "i love you." he says this like it's a reminder, and you are quick to chase his mouth with your own. you could say you were a bit obsessed with the act.

"i know." you reply, and his eyes roll at you, but he still looks as love sick as you feel.

"good. i'm going to need you to remember that, because when we get to the bed, i'm going to do a lot of things that might make you think the opposite." he says this like a definitive promise, and you gasp. "do you understand?" he asks, and you're shivering, the anticipation already managing to strike you down.

"yeah-yes!" you stutter. "i understand, it's okay." you add. spencer's already got this look of pride residing in his eyes, and you know that you're in for it, silly you for thinking love confessions would be enough to get you out of all the backtalk and clear attitude. "i'm ready!" you insist like the eager girl you are.

"we'll see." he retorts.

god, you love him.

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mochinomnoms · 11 months ago

Note

i know in the leech family that its a running joke that the mc is their cleaner shrimp and i cant help but think when its finally the leech parents turn!

Imagine mc and the leech family are going out to do some family bonding and the mc causally picks off some lint or hair off papa leech or mama leech and their mood just instantly brightens :D They go like “thank you dear! Is there anything else on me?” And the parents are just spinning around happy because their child-in-law is doing shrimp things with them! (Meanwhile jade and floyd are off to the side being like “what about me D:<”)

also may I be 🪸 anon or 💫 anon?

YEEAAAAH FAMILY SHRIMP!!!

I think it's a very sweet idea! Whether it's just one of the twins or both that you've gotten involved in, they both enjoy your fretting and picking at them. Floyd most often gets your attention, as he's always getting up to stuff and messy. However, he's more prone to scrapes from basketball and burns from cooking at the lounge, so he gets lots of attention from you. Floyd loves it, he loves being taken care of for once, instead of being feared or seen as a big bad eel. He needs loving too! He needs to be treated tenderly and kindly. Floydie just wants to be loved, and who better to do that than you?

Jade on the other hand will just get dirty when hiking and foraging, but rarely get any scrapes or cuts. He might bruise here or there depending on how it went, but over all you're more likely to need to clean stray twigs, leaves, and dirt for him. In fact, you'll find Jade approaching you after his extensions, every single time, asking for your assistance. Maybe join him in the bath and help him clean up? As his cleaner shrimp? Pretty pleeease? After all, the caretaker needs some caring too sometimes.

When you eventually get introduced to the family and properly fit into your place with the Leeches, with an appropriate shrimp merform! Papa and Mama Leech are just happy that their boys have such a sweet partner. You further solidify your spot when they learn about your “shrimp” tendencies. They think it's so cute! So imagine their delight when you start tending to them like you do their sons!

Papa Leech will often find himself get into...”scuffles” after work. Normally, the family doctor would be available to patch him up, but they were already attending to a patient of theirs. Here comes their resident shrimp, offering to patch him up! You babbling about Floyd and how he always got hurt from his activities at school, so it wasn't a problem. At this point, you're practically a pro! Papa Leech has stars in his eyes, though, he has the cutest child-in-law!!! And you've been doing this for his boys, for free??!! Screw Floyd and Jade if they ever break up with you (like they'd ever would) cause Papa is keeping you in the family for the foreseeable future. Not only are you convenient, but you care for him like family, he'd be a barnacle to let you go. If you're not already married to his boys, prepare yourself, cause he's already organizing the engagement and wedding. No, he did not ask his boys beforehand.

As for Mama Leech, she's been repeated described as a worrywart, and overly cautious, especially regarding her family. I think that, since you weren't brought up in the family like her boys, would be prone to keeping you at her side. If Papa and the twins are off for “work” then you can find her snatching you up for some mother-in-law time to keep you nice and safe! This is when she gets her own version of shrimp tending, via you doing her hair and makeup! She does love dressing up and looking pretty, and is delighted when you start brushing through her hair with your fingers, braiding it and softly applying her lipstick. It's been so long since her boys were little and played dress up with her! But here you are, so sweet and soft and gentle with her! She's now become attached, if you so much as try and leave the family, Mama is sobbing and begging you to stay, while also strangling her sons for what ever they did wrong (she knows they did something the little troublemakers).

I'd say that the twins only get mildly jealous, after all, the more time you spend with their parents the less they get with you! And you're their partner!!! They suppose they should be happy that you get along so well with their parents. Except Floyd. Floyd wishes to monopolize your time and will hide you away with Jade in a dark coral nook. He called you Shrimpy first, it's his right!!!

(I will dub thee 🪸 anon!! welcome!)

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #floyd leech #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #leech parents #sweeties!!! the best in laws!!#🪸 anon

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quimichi · 10 months ago

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↳ ❝ [IF I DIE, YOU DIE AFTER ME] ¡! ❞

warnings: Angst, mentions of death and suicide

summary: All you want is for him to continue if the worst case will ever happen. Unfortunately he understood you wrong...or maybe right?

characters: Aether, Albedo, Al-haitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Capitano, Childe and Chongyun × Creator!Reader

word count: 1,805

parts: 1.

Aether

Aether is stunned by your words for a moment; they linger in the air like lingering notes from a lyre, their impact resonating far more deeply in his heart than they did in his hearing. "What... What do you mean?" he replies in a hoarse whisper; his brows knit together, and a flicker of panic flickers across his expression.

"When i die, you better die after me because...I cannot bare to see you go. You should live a good life long after I'm gone and find happiness." you tell him seriously. No way ever, you would be able to live after knowing he ever parished. Aether stares at you with bright, wet eyes as his mind attempts to grapple with your words. His lips part softly as he takes a deep inhale; his heartbeat is pounding in his ears, and he feels dizzy at the very thought of it. "But... But your Grace?" he protests weakly, as if he just can't accept it.

"You can't be gone. I can't live without you." A long moment of silence stretches between you and the Traveler. Aether stares down, his brows furrowed. He doesn't want to say it, doesn't want to entertain the idea, but he finally whispers the words.

"But your Grace... If you're gone, I don't want to live. I wouldn't know what to live for."

"And I wouldn't know what to die for."

Albedo

"That I can't do." he stands his ground, he makes his point clear. He'd always promised that he would be by your side. If you go, so must he. Perhaps he was being dramatic, but he'd rather perish by your side than to witness your death. He'd spent his life wishing to die by your side. The thought of doing so without you would make his heart crumble like the foundations of a ruined nation.

"Albedo wha-" but he interrupted, with the same confidence as before, "If you go, so must I. We're equal, remember? If you die, so will I. Together we will say our last farewells to one another."

"I would die for you, my grace."

Albedo seems adamant about that statement, but the way he delivers it seems to say more. It sounds less of a duty to be fulfilled, but more a blessing to be granted.

It's enough to make him stop and stare. He wants you to live, in truth, above all else. His thoughts of your safety are always paramount; more than his own. If you went down, he would follow, but the way he speaks, the conviction in which he's willing to go. It almost seems as though he'd welcome death himself.

"I would rather die with you, than live without you, my grace."

"Agreed."

Al-haitham

"Of course." He says it instantly without thought. Your word is law. He obeys in the most absolute way possible.

The prospect of losing you shatters his heart into a thousand pieces. He can't even bring himself to think about it, so he focuses intently on your slightest movement. "I could never dream of existing without you by my side," he continues, his voice growing unsteady. His mind is a whirlpool of emotions, thoughts, and memories. Unusual from how you know him. "Al-Haitham..."

The thought of being without you...He just can't.

"I would die for you." A small, hesitant pause. He feels his throat tighten, his breath catching in his throat. "I would...do anything to be with you, join you."

Your heart tightens, he can't mean what he says? He can't mean it, he has so much to lose, and its not you. His job, what he worked for to achieve. All you wanted was for him to continue this. "I would throw away everything for you," he whispers, as if he heard you. The words sound hoarse coming out of his dry lips. His throat feels tight, his chest feels heavy, his head feels hollow.

"Anything I've ever cared about, everything I've ever loved... All of it means nothing compared to being at your side. If you die first, I will die twice."

Ayato

His stomach tightens at the thought. His heart feels like it is about to explode as he considers that reality.

"I would follow you there," he says softly, his voice barely a whisper. "With every part of me, I would follow you."

"No. You know what I meant by my words." He understands your meaning, but he cannot bring himself to say the words outloud.

"I would not be able to bear life without you," he says quietly, his eyes avoiding your gaze. The words escape with an earnestness that he did not intend, and immediately he is struck by the depth of his love for you and his utter devotion to you.

Your words have shaken him. "I love you," he says softly. His voice is little more than a whisper. It feels natural to say. The words slip out from his mouth so effortlessly that they escape him before he can even think to stifle them.

He doesn't question it. He'd say it 100 times over if you needed to hear it.

"My love, I'm sorry. I wish I was what you wanted. I wish I had the bravery to live without you, but I'm a coward. But for now, we shall live till we both die."

Baizhu

"I would never let something so horrific befall you. If anything were to happen to you, I would perish before you. And as you know, I will do everything to prevent death, especially yours."

Baizhu leans forward to gently lay his forhead against yours, a gesture, one filled with warmth.

"You will not die. You will not." Baizhu emphasizes his words, the determination in his eyes unshakeable. "For so long as you remain standing, so will I. Your fate is my fate - there is no other reality than the one in which you live."

"I-I don't want you to-" you hurriedly let out, its almost breaking your heart. "But I would... My desire is to shield you from harm. Any threat comes your way, I would-" Baizhu pauses, seeming to ponder whether to finish his prior sentence. Then, he swallows his pride before speaking again.

"My priority... It is to keep you alive. To make sure you are safe..."

Bennett

Bennett's eyes widen, as if he were shocked by your words. "Y-you're not going to die, my grace," he says softly, but there is something like panic in his voice. "Y-you won't... you can't die, ever..."

The Adventurer reaches out and lightly touches your hand with his fingertips. "Please, do not speak of such things..." Bennett looks up at you, his eyes wide and pleading. "You would... you would leave me alone? What would I ever do without you? Go on adventures alone? Who would I tell all my stories? Who would listen? You're my...— I... I."

And then he looks down, unable to look at you. "If you left, I would die; my purpose is to love. So, please, you..."

He looks up at you in desperation again. "If you leave so soon, I won't ever be ready to finish loving you..."

A breeze gently flows through your hair as Bennett reaches out and strokes your hair. The way his fingers caress your hair, so gently and with such tenderness, makes you wonder if he is afraid of breaking you. "You are my everything. So I will give my all to prevent your death, even if it causes my own."

Capitano

“As you wish, your grace” The words leave Capitano’s mouth almost involuntarily. He stares at you, his eyes glazed over as the thought of never seeing you again flashes through his mind.

He doesn’t care what he must do. Even if the universe is set against him. Even if he must face the Abyss Order or the Tsarita herself alone. You alone are worth his devotion and his existence. The thought is a bittersweet one. He will devote himself to you so wholly that when you pass, he will not live on as he normally would but will rather perish at your side.

He is not a man to love lightly, nor is he a man who will forget your kindness with time.

Capitano will live for you, devote himself to you, and even perish with you without a second thought. You are his entire universe, the center of his world. Nothing exists for him but you. All the other worlds that are his duty no longer matter in comparison.

His will is set on two things, only.

To love you. To die with you.

Childe

Childe's breathing quickens at the idea of your death. He cannot allow it. "No," he breathes. He grasps your hands tight, desperation in every motion.

"You can't die. You are immortal. Eternal. Unbreakable." The words tumble out of his mouth, sounding almost like a prayer with the desperation and pleading in his voice. "Of course I can die silly...so when i do...please live on without me." "No." Childe stares at you, his face hard as a rock.

"I can't."

Childe closes his eyes and grips your hands tighter. He leans forward until his chin presses into your knuckles and his face is inches from yours.

"Don't ask me to do that. I won't let you die."

Childe repeats the words, his voice breaking halfway through the sentence, raw and trembling. "I can't let you die." He pulls you close, so close that your lips are almost touching, but not quite.

"I'm nothing without you." His voice is a whisper. "My existence depends on you.

"I can't live without you."

Chongyun - aged up

He freezes at the sound of these words, his body trembling uncontrollably. His breathing becomes shallower and shallower, his heart pounding faster and faster, all the color draining from his face. "You... you wouldn't... you couldn't.." he says in a hoarse voice, his head spinning from the sudden, overwhelming wave of dread. He is too close to the thought of losing you, and he fears that it could destroy him. "Please," Chongyun whispers, his eyes imploring you with such a profound desperation, a look that could tear your heart out.

"I cannot lose you. I cannot live a life without you." He reaches for your hands, grasping them tightly in his own. "I would not survive your departure. The very thought leaves me in a living nightmare."

Chongyun is crying. "Please do not make me go on without you. Please do not." He is shaking. Your words have stirred up a whirlwind of emotion. He looks up at you, his eyes pleading, his heart breaking at the thought of a life without you.

"I would follow you until the end, your Grace. Even if it means for my own journey to end."

TAGLIST: @hehothrowawayfae @lucienbarkbark

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin cult au #aether x reader #albedo x reader #alhaitham x you #ayato x reader #baizhu x reader #bennett x reader #capitano x reader #childe x reader #chongyun x reader

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penkura · 9 months ago

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OP Men and Their Kids

Note: Hey, this is something I wrote randomly one day instead of paper I needed to work on. :) Don't worry, the paper was finished and turned in. I will also fully admit I have baby fever at this point in my life, I just gotta get a man lol. These are just some headcanon blurbs about a couple OP men and their kids, how many they'd have, the genders, that's all! Hope you like it!

Part Two Here!

Ace has a daughter, then another three years later. He's happy with just those two, he's a great girl dad and his oldest keeps his last name even if she gets married; he cries when his babies get married. If you can convince him to have one more, it'd be a third girl, you wouldn't even complain about it. Ace would cry again, holding her after she's born and happily introducing her to her big sisters. He sees himself, Sabo, and Luffy in the dynamics between his daughters. Your youngest daughter might be a crybaby, but she's the more adventurous of the three and her sisters are her biggest protectors. You're all his girls and Ace couldn't be happier.

Law has a son first, then five or six years later a daughter, both fully planned and prepared for. Then surprise, there's another little boy two years after your daughter, totally unplanned but welcomed all the same. All three are beyond loved, the daughter is definitely named Cora. Your daughter might be a little bit spoiled, but Law tries to even it out amongst the three, that pirate captain side of him coming out as he tries to make sure they're all even. On nights when the five of you settle in your living room, Law still can't believe how lucky and blessed he is to have such a loving family again.

Penguin has two daughters within four years of each other! Girl dad all the way, until the third child comes along and it's a boy, a total surprise, he'd fully expect another little girl. He finds it even more fun to have all three of them, the girls are protective of their baby brother, it almost reminds him of he and Shachi with Law when they were still teens. It's even more apparent how your children parallel that relationship, when your youngest daughter, at six years old, brings your two year old son to you when he's crying from a nightmare, you're both able to comfort and quell his tears. Penguin feels lucky to have all of you, and wants nothing more than for you to all be safe and happy.

Sanji! Has a son AND daughter first, a cute little set of twins! He dotes on them and gives them all the attention they need. Eventually another little girl comes along, then one more boy a couple years after her. Sanji loves them all, but his girls do get just a tad more attention at times, especially once they realize that giving him puppy dog eyes net them whatever they want. Your youngest son attaches to him like glue, wanting to be with Sanji all the time, and he can see the similarities in how alike the two are, minus the abuse of course, and it makes him want to protect your youngest son from the world at times.

Zoro has a son, one that isn't planned at all. He hadn't even expected to have kids until this little baby boy that looks just like him comes along. After that, he expects that to be it. No more kids, just the one, just your son, until not even three years later you're pregnant again, with a little girl that's just as unplanned. Everyone is shocked, but when she's born, Zoro is instantly wrapped around her tiny finger and she's spoiled rotten by him. Your kids are both loved beyond belief though, both learning how to use a sword as soon as they're big enough to do so. Zoro is the one to convince you to have one more when your daughter is about five, and its a set of twin boys that make you swear off more kids in the end. They also start learning to use the sword one day, your third child falling into the three sword style that just inflates Zoro's pride even more. And yes, his daughter would be named Kuina.

Note 2: I would absolutely marry Zoro and have his babies in a heartbeat. I'm sorry Penguin, I still love you.

Note 3: If you saw this briefly yesterday, no you didn't shut up 😆

#one piece x reader #reader insert #zoro x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x reader #sanji x reader #penguin x reader #op penguin x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #op men as dads #roronoa zoro x reader

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blindmagdalena · 5 months ago

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Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter four)

18+ 4.2k. homelander x f!reader. pre-s1. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, forced relationship, slow burn, eventual smut. gif credit | fic directory | AO3

Lovesick and giddy, Homelander makes quick work of sharing the news of his freshly established relationship. Meanwhile, you're left alone in his penthouse with one goal in mind: escape.

Homelander’s absence is like a too-heavy coat slipping from your shoulders, allowing you to breathe again.

You shake the tension out of your hands as you walk back down the hall, thinking more clearly than you’ve been able to all morning. It’s 8:30 now, which means you have a little over six hours to figure out something that might help you escape.

There is a balcony, but you shut the door to it as quickly as you opened it once you realized there aren’t any railings. The concrete slab outside the glass door is more like a ledge than it is a balcony, and the roar of the winds outside instantly made you feel like you’d be knocked clean off of it if you stepped outside.

Definitely not an option.

You do find a landline—who keeps a landline anymore?—but when you bring the receiver to your ear and press a few buttons, the line remains silent.

The phone is plugged in, every cord connected, the little green light in the corner lit, but there must be some kind of mandatory input in order to dial. You slam the receiver back down with a frustrated growl.

Prowling through the penthouse with the urgency of a caged animal, you check every drawer you come across. Every cupboard.

You run your fingers under the edges of furniture, and—seeing his absurd collection of annotated law reports and Oxford dictionaries—resort to tugging books from their resting places and flipping through their pages, hoping you might trigger some secret switch or find a hidden compartment.

Instead, a slip of paper comes loose from one of the volumes, fluttering to the floor by your feet.

You dip down to pick it up, brows pinching. It’s a photograph of a little blonde boy, maybe five or six, standing next to an older gentleman with a partial crown of thinning light hair around only the sides of his head. He’s gesturing to a spot on the wall next to the boy, who holds a blanket to his chest.

You squint, tilting the photo, as if it might help you see what the man is pointing at outside of the frame.

There are a handful of crayon drawings scattered on the stark white walls, though the quality and age of the photo make them difficult to interpret, and hidden in the spaces between—and presumably beneath—them are what look like crisp black scorch marks.

Looking back to the boy, you realize there’s a distinct crimson gleam to his eyes.

Homelander…?

He looks frightened. His little face pinched in an anxious expression like he might cry at any moment, but he’s holding it back.

You try to imagine what sort of life experiences would cause a child so young to be so disciplined with their emotions. Flipping the photo over, you see that it’s signed and dated.

Dr. Jonah Vogelbaum “Project Odessa” 1986

Unsettled by the image, you carefully slide the photo back between the pages of the book.

If Homelander had the kind of destructive powers he has now at such a young age, it isn’t a stretch to imagine he would have needed to be carefully cared for and observed. Taken to some sort of facility.

What average parent stood a chance against a tantruming child with laser vision, or the strength to flip cars?

Still, you can’t shake the awful feeling of dread the photo gives you. Just what the hell does “Project Odessa” mean? Why name the doctor, but not the poor boy in the photo?

You’re lonely, he’d said. You don’t have to be.

How personal those words had sounded. You’re not sure now that he was actually talking to you, even if he had been right. You are lonely at times—but doesn’t everyone get lonely? Loneliness has been a recurring theme in your life for as long as you can remember. You’ve never been tempted to kidnap anyone over it, though.

Taking a breath, you haul yourself back to your feet and dust off your knees, frustrated with the wealth of questions and dearth of solutions you’re left with. You’ve already spent over two of your allotted hours combing both floors of the penthouse.

Now what the hell do I do?

There’s a pep in Homelander’s step as he strolls through the halls of Vought Tower.

“Hiya, Danny!” He greets merrily, startling a young PA so badly that the man nearly drops the tray of coffee he’s carrying. “Whoa-ho, hey, watch it, kiddo,” he laughs, giving Danny a swift pat on the back.

“Th-thank you, sir,” he says belatedly, watching Homelander continue on with a look of thorough bewilderment.

Maybe even awe.

He doubts the chump ever thought Homelander even knew his name—which he didn’t before now. He just so happened to catch a glimpse at his name on the lanyard dangling around his neck before he said anything.

He’s having a good day, which means Danny may as well, too.

Everyone should have a good day today because for once, life is finally headed in exactly the right direction.

He’s still thinking about how you felt in his arms all night, how soundly you slept against him. He’s thinking about the smell of breakfast and how beautiful you looked cooking breakfast in his kitchen.

Every bit of it exactly the way he envisioned. Not to mention the fact you finally showed him a little gratitude. He grins to himself, eager to share the excellent news. So eager, in fact, he can’t stop himself when he catches a flash of red hair disappearing into an elevator.

Well… Maybe not everyone deserves a good day.

He barely manages to shove his hand into the closing doors, allowing him to step inside before it descends. He grins broadly at his target—who he’s now got nice and cornered—and Maeve offers a withering look in response.

He can’t help but laugh, sidling up next to her. She looks tired, black flecks of makeup smudged under her eyes, and he can smell booze on her breath.

Christ, it’s not even 9:00am.

“What?” She asks preemptively, her tone sharp.

“Golly gee, Maeve. Good morning to you, too! Someone shit in your pillowcase?” He asks, knocking his eagle pauldron on her shoulder. His tone is bright, his smile even brighter.

It’s been over a year since things ended between them, and he’s been able to smell every twink and whore she’s rubbed herself up against like a bitch in heat since. Finally, he has something to rub her nose in.

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “What’re you so chipper about?”

He leans in to whisper conspiratorially, “I met someone,” before he pulls back, his shoulders and brows lifting with barely contained giddiness.

It’s an odd expression that comes to Maeve’s face, some muddled mixture of surprise, disbelief and wariness. “Someone I know?” Her tone is guarded. As if he’d bother with the nobodies she keeps her bed wet with these days.

He waves his hand dismissively, blowing a raspberry. “No, no. Please. The only people you know these days reek of jizz and methamphetamines.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s just an excuse to break eye contact. To hide from him. “Well. My condolences to them,” she says, crossing her arms. If she were any more sardonic she’d come full circle to genuine.

“Ohhh, Maeve, Maeve, Maeve. Is that a note of jealousy I detect ?” He purrs, bringing his face close to hers.

She leans back, scoffing a laugh that’s more disdain than humor. “Oh, please. Get over yourself,” she says, but there’s something odd about her tone. She actually sounds relieved. Even her shoulders are less tense.

“You’re the one who’s gonna have to get over me,” he says, feigning a sympathetic tone. “She’s perfect. Sweet, affectionate, loves to cook. In fact, she made me breakfast this morning,” he says, lips spreading in a slow Cheshire grin.

Maeve is quiet for a beat, staring at him like he’s more puzzle than man, working out the truth of what he’s saying. He twists side to side, cape swaying lightly, reveling in how bewildered she looks by his joy.

Did she really think he’d never find anyone after her? Fuck, he could sing aloud for how sweet this victory feels.

“Huh,” she says at least, looking away from him. She laughs softly, a more genuine sound than anything he’s heard from her in a long, long time. “Well, thank God for that.”

He blinks, confused by the sudden turn in the conversation. She’s done nothing but desperately try to fill the gaping hole of misery in herself with drugs and liquor and sex ever since they broke up.

The only reason he allowed it is because it felt more like a self-imposed punishment than anything else. The news that he’s found something real should devastate her.

Jaw tight, he turns to properly face her, itching to wrest back control of the conversation. “This means no more moping around the tower soaked in whiskey, hmm? You’re supposed to be a hero, for god's sake.”

“A hero,” she echoes incredulously, the word somehow rotten coming from her. “You know what?”

She meets his challenge, turning to face him head on, her hands on her hips. “I’ll get right on that,” she says, her voice dripping with condescending sarcasm, though he can’t help but see some spark of genuine relief in the wicked slant of her unkind smile. “You really do know just what to say, captain.”

The elevator comes to a stop with a ding, and Maeve takes a step forward as soon as the doors open. Quick as lightning, he snatches her arm, stopping her in her tracks. She whirls on him, fist coiled like she might strike, but she has the good sense not to.

“I’m serious, Maeve,” he says, tone severe, his smile vanishing. “Get your fucking act together before you embarrass us both any further.”

He lets go and she takes two steps out of the elevator, lingering there a moment before she smiles viciously back at him, lips pressed tightly together. She turns around, and the doors close on the image of her walking away from him.

His gloves groan with the tension in his tightly coiled fists. He exhales a shaky breath, anger hot in his chest.

When God closes a door, He opens a window, he reminds himself, looking to the rows of elevator buttons. He presses floor 99.

Next stop: Madelyn Stillwell’s office.

Eventually you opt for taking a shower, figuring it’s best to do it now while Homelander’s out.

Before stripping out of your pajamas, you give the bathroom a sweep, testing the mirror and checking for cameras the way they always warn you to do when you stay somewhere strange.

Glad to have turned up empty handed in this particular endeavor, you twist the shower knob—a golden eagle’s head, unfortunately—and shed your sleepwear, feeling exposed in the large glass box he calls a shower.

Nonetheless, the hot water still helps you feel better than you had before. The fluffy navy towels you wrap around yourself afterwards are soft and oversized, every luxury carefully thought of.

It doesn’t make you feel any less like a captive. Just a pampered one.

The clothes you choose fit just as well as the sleepwear did, the fabric sleek and comfortable. The opulence of them evokes the same wicked spite from you that breakfast did, though a distant part of you does quietly enjoy the feel of them on your freshly cleaned skin.

You wander around the penthouse a while longer inspecting the statues and the paintings, reading any slips of paper you find, checking under the blank trophies you can’t identify, but there’s no grand discovery.

No miraculous code for the door hidden somewhere.

You’re well and truly stuck.

Plopping down on the couch with the weight of defeat heavy on your shoulders, you pick up the television remote from the coffee table and stare at it. Its buttons are riddled with logos: Vought+, Voughtify, Voughtoons, VNN, all of them cluttered looking on the remote.

However, one familiar logo in particular catches your eye: two red overlapping O’s. It’s Vought’s web browser, OperaGX. Your heart jumps into your throat as you quickly flick the television on, pressing the button immediately.

All televisions are Smart these days, connected to the internet in order to provide this myriad of streaming services.

Even the fridge is hooked up to the wi-fi.

If you can access an internet browser through the television, you should be able to log into your email or one of your social medias and get a message out to someone.

The reality of your situation will probably be more believable to your friends and family than the notion that you suddenly decided to go “off the grid” backpacking through Europe, though you’re not entirely sure that you love what that says about your life.

You nearly shout with triumph as the screens on the wall flicker to life, the browsers home page displayed clearly. You ignore the headlines plastered all over the different boxes and dive straight for the address bar, tapping in vmail.com as quickly as the remote allows for.

Christ, is there any aspect of your life not tangled up in Vought? You’d never realized until now.

You smash the enter button, and the little icon in the corner of the tab spins for what feels like a millenia, loading.

RESTRICTED

The smile drops sharply from your face. Dread replaces your fleeting elation, and you fumble with the remote in your haste to type in a new address.

RESTRICTED

You try progressively more obscure social media, forums, anything you can think of that might have a means for posting or messaging.

RESTRICTED

Tears well in your eyes.

Come on, there has to be something not on this stupid list of restricted sites!

You try again and again and again, but every single time you’re met with the same message. Of all things, something as innocuous as a parental block of all things stands between you and potential freedom.

This time you do shout, but it’s in frustration as you hurl the remote at the collection of screens. Part of you hopes that the impact shatters it, but so meager is your outburst that it simply bounces off of it, the message stubbornly persisting, mocking your upset.

You have nothing. You are nothing. Homelander has the powers of a god and all the measures that wealth like his can afford to take at his disposal.

The tears that roll down your anger flushed cheeks burn, and you wipe aggressively at them with the backs of your hands.

As you simmer, you come to the conclusion that it isn’t so much that certain sites are restricted, but that only certain ones are allowed. The connection has been narrowed exclusively to what might entertain you, but not allow you any form of outside communication.

Tucking your legs up onto the couch, you bury your face in your hands and let yourself sob out the horrible feeling of defeat.

“Gooooooood morning,” Homelander practically sings as he strolls into Madelyn’s office without so much as a knock, smiling brightly. He swings the door to her office shut behind him.

Arching a shapely brow, Madelyn looks slowly up at him from her work, leaning back.

Her blonde tresses are nicely curled, the ends of them barely brushing her shoulders. She’s wearing a patterned button up blouse tucked into a high waisted skirt. Her lips are painted in crisp red lines, and she takes her glasses off in a fluid motion to look at him.

She always looks like this—perfectly unobtainable.

“You’re in a good mood,” she notes, a detectable edge of suspicion in her voice despite the warmth of it.

“Sure am,” he says evasively, downright giddy to play this little game with her. It’s so rare that he has the upperhand between the two of them. He meanders about her office to admire the photos on her wall. Most of them are of him.

Her ruby lips spread in a patient smile. She rests her elbow on her desk and interlaces her fingers atop it. “Any particular reason?”

“I met someone,” he says too soon, too excited to draw the game out properly. He looks at her, eager to see the change in her expression, whether it be displeasure or—if he’s lucky—clear cut jealousy. He’d accept either. Instead, he finds her expression doesn’t change much.

“Is that so?” She asks in her same gentle way. He meets a lot of people every day. It’s part of his world. But they both know he means something more than a miscellaneous encounter. “Tell me about them.”

“She’s beautiful,” he says, turning his back to Madelyn. He strolls idly about, feigning indifference as best he can while his delight bubbles irrepressibly in his chest. He wants to rub Madelyn’s nose in it. To make her regret keeping him at arm's length.

Fuck, he’ll relish it.

“Clever. Funny, too. She likes to cook.”

“She sounds like a dream,” Madelyn says, sounding distracted. The tell-tale sound of papers shuffling punctuates her response. Turning around, Homelander frowns. She already has her glasses back on, her expression downcast at the documents spread out on her desk.

“She is,” he says, his smugness giving way to defensiveness, and then derision as he continues, “I’m sorry, did I catch you at a bad time? I was under the impression we have an appointment.”

“We do. These are your talking points for the gala on Friday, and these are your notes for your save this afternoon,” she says, lifting a handful of the documents towards him.

His lip gnarls into a sneer. “Are you even listening to me? I said I met someone.”

“And I’m very happy for you,” she responds, her level of patience enduring. She places the papers down on her desk, the corners hanging off the edge, inviting him to take them.

“Is she one of our supes?” She leans back in her seat, observing him in a way that always makes him feel small.

“No,” he says, jaw tight.

She hums, her calm serenity becoming maddening.

“Do you intend to be seen together?” She continues to press, and all at once he understands the angle she’s coming in from.

She doesn’t care a lick about what he’s doing, or who with.

All she cares about are the optics. Like he’s no different from The Deep fucking everything with a wet hole. She thinks you’re just another mess she’ll have to sweep under the rug.

“And if I do?” He presses, seething. Anger is easier than hurt.

“She’ll need to be vetted,” Madelyn replies matter-of-factly. “Likely have her socials expunged of anything that could be damaging to your image. What’s her name?”

He hesitates, the cold sting of regret lancing his gut. Looking Madelyn in the eyes, he suddenly doesn’t want her to know anything about you.

She could tell him to get rid of you.

Worse, she might choose to do it herself. This was a stupid and impulsive move, and he could swiftly pay the price for it. He hates how easily she unsteadies him.

“You’ll learn it when you meet her,” he says, forcing aloofness into both his tone and his body language, crossing his arms.

Madelyn’s look of tolerant reservation softens. She slides her glasses off and stands in a fluid motion, walking around her desk. “You know I’m only being protective of you, don’t you?” She asks, putting a hand on the jut of his elbow.

He purses his lips, gaze flickering away. He stares stubbornly out her window, fighting the urge to melt into her touch. She’s so busy these days. It’s made her even more withholding, and he has to cling tightly to his upset in order to keep himself from folding into her rare displays of warmth.

“You know that I only want for you to be happy,” she continues to coo, voice low. Gentle.

He closes his eyes, inhaling a deep breath. When he looks at her again, there’s a note of defeat in his expression. He doesn’t know how true that really is these days. He doesn’t feel it. He had to go out and find his own happiness—and you have brought him that.

The feel of your body against his as you slept made him happier than he’s felt in years. He hasn’t been able to stop daydreaming about your silhouette this morning as you cooked for him in his once vacant, soulless kitchen.

You’re the spark of life he’s been desperately missing.

“Then you’ll let me have this,” he says, an underlying stress behind every word that makes something in Madelyn’s gaze shift.

“Okay,” she says with an air of reluctance. “I can see that this is important to you… You’ll have to let me in eventually,” she says, stroking his arm in slow, disarming movements.

“I will,” he says, eagerness slipping into his voice in the wake of her acquiescence. “When I’m ready.”

She smiles, but not in the way that she does when she’s pleased with him. This smile is an hourglass, and her patience is the sand falling through.

Her hand slips away and he feels the loss of it like a physical blow, immediately aching for more comfort. Instead he’s offered the notes she tried to give him earlier.

“So long as you’re where you need to be when you need to be there, what you do in your off time is your own business,” she says, and though her tone is placating, he can’t help but feel that he’s disappointed her.

Hurt her, even.

This isn’t what he wanted at all. He wanted her to care beyond the metrics, beyond the work they do. He wanted her to ask him to be with her instead so that for once, he might be the one in a position to withhold.

He takes the papers while Madelyn watches him, the judgemental weight of her gaze leaving him feeling cold, childish, and terribly small. Reading through the talking points she prepared for him, he frowns.

“Something the matter?”

“I mean… C’mon, this whole Kumbaya schtick?” He lightly slaps the page with the back of his hand. “We should be showing strength, not our bellies. People want leadership, not this–this noncommittal PC garbage. It’s not even saying anything!”

“It’s saying exactly what we need it to.” Her nonchalance sets his teeth on edge.

“We need to commit,” he insists, lowering his tone.

“We need to appear moderate,” she counters. “You aren’t only addressing your audience. Every dove and Democrat in Congress is going to be there, and it’s your job to make us look good to them, too.”

“I’m a fucking superhero, Madelyn!” He snaps, but there is neither strength nor anger in his voice. It’s a petulant desperation that sounds sour even to his own ears.

Her calm rebuttal of his every thought makes him feel powerless in a way someone of his caliber has no right feeling. His fists clench.

“They should be on their knees! Not deciding whether or not I’m worthy of their fucking votes!”

Her hand settles on his cheek. The warmth of it startles him, tampering a measure of that building indignant anger.

“I know. I know it isn’t fair. Someone like you… you’re above these silly games,” she says, taking a step closer to him.

“But that’s why we need you. It’s why Vought needs you. You’re the one who’s going to show them the truth. Show them that you are the future,” she says, her thumb lightly stroking back and forth on his cheek. “Just give them a little time to catch up, okay?”

He deflates under her touch, gaze dropping to her lips, her throat, her chest, where her heart beats steadily in his ears. Every inch of her she does not first offer is off limits to him.

If he is all she says he is, how can she be so content to watch him starve?

“Okay,” he yields flatly, rolling the papers slowly into a tube. He bounces it off of his temple in a half-hearted salute, desperate to save face. Her hand falls away, leaving the spot cold. He swallows those empty feelings back like bile and clears his throat.

Defeated, he heads for the door, his tail tucked firmly between his legs.

“And Homelander,” Madelyn calls just as he reaches for the knob. He turns, looking at her with uncertain eyes. “Let’s keep this between you and I for now, okay? This little… acquaintance of yours. It would be a bloodbath if the press got a hold of her before we could prepare.”

“I told Maeve,” he admits right away, guilt and shame making his voice quiet.

“I’ll take care of it,” she assures him, though it does little to make him feel better. “Be good today.”

“Okay,” he says again, gut churning with a tumultuous mix of emotions. Stepping out of her office, the last thing in the fucking world he wants to do is plaster on a smile and let himself be blinded by a thousand camera flashes.

What he desperately wants now is you.

( chapter 5 )

#i've been trying to stick to 3k chapters but they just keep getting longer and longer lol #reader and homie don't interact at all this chapter SORRY but it's some important character work #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #x reader #my writing #yandere boyfriend #yandere x reader #homelander

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walkingstackofbooks · 6 months ago

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Consider: Julian being pregnant with Yoshi and going to Federation parenting classes with Miles and Keiko. And encountering a list of all the rights and freedoms every child is supposed to be entitled to. Some of which... don't sound like his childhood. (Cw child abuse)

I've got SO MANY more ideas for this it may turn into a series who knows??? But I want to share it now so people can maybe like it? Because I have feeeelings.

"So these are just, uh, suggestions, right? Parents don't have to do all of them?" Julian asked, instantly regretting it. If Miles' dirty look was anything to go by, clearly that had been the wrong thing to say.

"Julian," he gritted out, "you're my best mate and you're carrying my child so I'm going to give you a chance to explain. What the hell do you mean by that?"

Julian really wasn't sure that he could. Some of the statements on the poster had surprised him, that was all, but he didn't really want to get into the reasons why.

"Don't, uh— Don't worry. It's not important," he tried to deflect.

"It bloody well is important, if you're just planning to ignore what you're learning here."

"Miles—" Keiko broke in, placing a hand on her husband's knee.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Julian exclaimed, cradling his stomach protectively. "I was just saying that, um... I guess that they're not all as important as each other, are they? Lack of privacy, for example - that's not exactly abusive, is it, like some of the others?"

"That's a common misconception, but no, Doctor Bashir," answered Mx Rakoto. "Any parent showing a consistent failure to meet any one of these standards would be enough to investigate them for abuse."

"Oh."

"What do you mean, "oh"?" Miles asked, with an irritation that compelled Julian to shrug and look away.

"I guess I just didn't realise it was taken that seriously," he replied, feeling kind of silly and small as he said it. "I know we learnt about them in school, but back then it was more of a thing for teachers than parents, wasn't it?"

There was a pause, before Keiko said tentatively, "...These have always been for parents, Julian."

"Mrs O'Brien is correct," Mx Rakoto added. "Your parents would have completed a very similar course to this - some things have changed of course, there's always more progress that can be done, but the fundamental rights and freedoms of children haven't changed, and nor has the law."

"No, but..." Julian's brain didn't seem to be working properly; was he missing something?

"You're saying these are things I should have had at home and at school?"

"Yes?"

"And my parents should have known about them?"

"I would find it hard to believe that they didn't. Parents are required to access learning about this every few years."

"Oh." Julian's voice had gone very quiet at the point. "I think I— I need a minute..." he said shakily, eyes glued to the poster in front of him, reading and rereading the information as he tried to figure out what he'd got wrong.

Right to privacy.

Right to choose their own name.

Right to appropriate support and accommodations of a disability.

Freedom from unnecessary medical interventions.

Freedom from torture.

Right to make mistakes.

"Julian?" asked Keiko softly, startling him out of his thoughts. "Are you alright?"

Slowly, he shook his head. "I didn't know," he whispered. "I mean, it's not like I thought they were great parents, you know, but I didn't think... Well, most people complain about their parents, don't they? I didn't think mine were abnormally bad. But there are so many things—" His voice quavered, almost breaking. "And you say they could have been investigated for just breaking one?"

"What... what kind of things?" asked Miles hesitantly. "Only if you want to tell us, of course."

Julian's eyes flicked around the room, but Mx. Rakoto seemed to have left the room.

"They've gone," confirmed Keiko, seeming to catch onto what he was thinking. "I can go too, if you'd prefer..."

"No - it's alright," said Julian. "It's just... a lot to take in."

His eyes returned to the poster. Right to encouragement. Freedom from humiliation and constant criticism. Right to self-expression. Right to relax and play. Right to mistakes.

"It must be hard, right," he started, looking to them both anxiously, "to keep these all in your head? There's a lot of them, it must be normal to not remember all of them all the time?"

Miles and Keiko exchanged glances, a second-long conversation that Julian was not privy to.

"All parents make mistakes," said Keiko kindly. "It's when these things start getting ignored often that there's a problem."

"And some of them you barely have to think about anyway," added Miles. "You know, "right to shelter", "right to food", "right to clothes" - it's not difficult stuff. You don't have kids if you don't want to look after them properly."

"Then why did my parents find it so difficult?" The words burst out of Julian before he could stop them. "What was so wrong with me that meant they didn't do all this?"

"No, oh no, Julian," said Keiko, as Miles reached out to pull him in for a hug. "Don't think like that. It wasn't you—"

Julian wasn't really listening: his question had finally given him the puzzle piece he had been missing - he'd realised what hadn't been adding up.

"No... no, it's fine," he said, feeling a little floaty now he'd got his thoughts all in order. "No, it was me. I was a difficult kid. That's..." He shook himself, feeling his cheeks get hot as he wondered what the O'Briens must be thinking. "I'm sorry, this session was supposed to be about your child, not about me."

"Our child," corrected Miles gruffly. "And this is important, Julian. I don't give a damn if you were "difficult", your parents don't get to just ignore your rights."

"You don't understand," said Julian desperately, hoping he'd be able to make them see even without mentioning his enhancements. He'd made a real mountain out of a molehill here, he didn't know why he hadn't managed to connect the dots quicker before this all had spiralled out of control. "I tried to piss my parents off. I'd stay out too late and go drinking illegally and date guys way too old for me just because I knew it would annoy them. And I'd always talk back and argue with my dad, and find ways to be smarter than him, and—"

"And none of that was enough to lose your rights, Julian," said Keiko gently. "That's not how it works."

Julian was shaking; he didn't want to listen to them. He'd figured it out - it was his fault his parents hadn't done everything they were supposed to, because if it wasn't his fault, it was their fault, and that meant... well, that they were abnormally bad parents, and that... that...

"Hey," said Miles, more softly than Julian had ever heard him, peeling Julian's hands away from where he'd been covering his ears. "Let's say you're right — just for a moment," he added in response to Keiko's hissed "Miles?". "Maybe we don't understand everything that went on. Why don't you tell us which of these you weren't getting from your parents, yeah? Explain it to us a bit more?"

Flashing him a weak smile, Julian nodded. He should have known he could always count on Miles.

"Okay, yeah, um— so I guess, uh, "right to choose your own name"?" he said, feeling slightly uncomfortable as he watched Keiko pull the poster up on her PADD and circle it, but choosing not to comment. "It wasn't like, transphobic or anything though," he defended. "They'd just always called me 'Jules' since I was little, you know? So it's not really..." He trailed off, shrugging.

"Okay..." said Miles, and Julian tried to ignore the dubious look his friend shot at Keiko. "Anything else?"

"Um - I always had to, uh, leave my door open? Or if I closed it, they wouldn't knock before coming in... That's not that weird though, right? One of my Academy friends thought it was, but--"

"Did you feel like your parents respected your privacy?" asked Keiko, and Julian looked at her for a few seconds, before shaking his head.

"But they were my parents," he said. "That was just how they looked out for me. They were supposed to look out for me."

"And you were supposed to have a right to privacy," replied Keiko, making another circle on her PADD. Fuck, this wasn't going the way Julian had thought it would. Hurriedly, he looked for a different one to try to explain better.

"Constant criticism," he said, distantly noticing the strangled tone to his voice. "That's hardly surprising, right? I mean, if you get things wrong all the time, you're going to be criticised, that's just how it works."

Neither Keiko nor Miles looked convinced; clearly he wasn't trying hard enough, describing clearly enough why it had been alright his parents hadn't been perfect. He was getting this all wrong.

The right to make mistakes.

For some reason, those had been the words his eyes hadn't been able to leave alone. Every time he went past them, his heart caught on them, as though the words were a rusty nail left half-buried in his skin.

It wasn't a fair comparison, really. He had been different to the other children - better, smarter - so of course he hadn't been allowed to make the same mistakes they did. Of course his parents' expectations had been high; they'd known what he was.

But all the same, it sounded nice, that imaginary childhood where all mistakes were okay, not just the ones he'd carefully measured out to avoid detection.

He didn't realise he was crying until he felt a rough thumb wiping a tear off his cheek.

"Oh, Julian," Miles was saying. "It's okay, you can let it out now. We're here for you. I'm so sorry. I wish I'd known."

#Julian Bashir #Richard and Amsha's A++ parenting #Miles O'Brien #Keiko O'Brien #DS9 fanfic #Julian Bashir fanfic #Andi writes #I really need to stop starting brand new stories I've already got too many XD #wsb #Cw child abuse

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calmcoldevening · 1 year ago

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I’m begging you for a part 2 of the knowing the slashers when they were younger fic where they meet when they’re older if you’re up for it ofc🙏

You knew slashers when you were a child and now you grow up and met them

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, brothers Sinclair

TW: mention of blood, violence, stockholm syndrome.

Ps: english is not my native language, so sorry for misspells. And also i really didn't know what I needed to write about Sinclair, because i need to rewatch the movie to remember their characters, so i didn't write about them. I hope you'll enjoy our sweet Tommy and baby boy Brahms

Part one ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Thomas Hewitt

You just recently graduated from college and decided to celebrate it with a trip with your friends to one of the US states. The choice fell on Texas. You still had pleasant memories of your school life in this place in your heart, and your heart ached at the thought of how soon you left your hometown. Not that you would call these people friends, but you were good acquaintances and helped each other with tasks. And so you packed your bags and within half an hour you were all driving together in a small SUV. The boyfriend of one of your 'friends' (Jessica) was driving. He was a good man, although he joked about unpleasant topics from time to time. But you turned a blind eye to it. In the end, you will finally find yourself back in the good old Texas.

The road was long, so you had a lot of time to think. You were sitting in the farthest seat, staring into space and slowly stroking an old, slightly battered fox toy with your hand. Your thoughts revolved around one person. That shy little boy you had such a happy conversation with years ago. It was your first memorable friend. You no longer had friends who could surpass sweet Tommy.

Finally, the car turned at a sign with the inscription of a city you know. Your heart started beating faster and you couldn't suppress a smile in anticipation. Soon you will see him again, a sweet shy boy. Although now it will probably be a guy, after all, it's been almost twelve years. This figure was almost painful.

The Texas landscape flowed like a soft canvas on the other side of the window, the sun mercilessly burned his eyes, refracting through the glass. It was hot and stuffy. You're lucky to get into one of the hottest periods in Texas. This place has changed somewhat, although it remains the same as you remembered it. The once small plantings have now turned into real tall trees, although they did not save much from the sultry sun. The wheels of the car turned quickly on turns with an unpleasant sound, raising a cloud of dust behind them. Jessica's boyfriend, Tim, apparently loved playing racer very much, even on the main state road.

By all the laws of luck, Tim abruptly informed you that you were running out of gas. There was a gas station nearby. You entered a small diner next to the gas station, and your heart instantly warmed up. It was that sweet woman, Thomas's mom. Luda-May, isn't that right?

"Hello, Luda," you say with a slight smile, approaching the cash register. The woman looks up at you with a frown, peering at your appearance for a few seconds. Finally, recognition seemed to flash across her face.

"Y/N?" She asks dryly, her voice a little rougher than what you remember from childhood. You nod in response. A warm smile appears on Mrs. Hewitt's face and she hurries out from behind the counter, wrapping you in a gentle, almost maternal embrace. "God, girl.. I never thought I'd see you again. You've grown up so much."

"I'm so sorry that I left so quickly. It was my parents' idea, not mine."

"I understand, honey, don't worry. We've all missed you. Especially Tommy."

The mere mention of his name makes your heart ache. Tommy... You haven't seen him for so long. Your heart yearned for those beloved cornflower blue eyes. You reluctantly pull away from the cozy embrace of Luda, your hand reflexively reaches for your hair, removing a stray strand from your face when you understand the look at a woman.

"You still live there, don't you? Can I see him?"

"Of course, my girl. I've just finished. Hoyt should be arriving soon."

Hoyt? Your brain was carefully trying to find at least one mention of that name in your memory, but nothing came to mind. Strange. Although it may be one of their relatives or friends, after all, you haven't been here for too long, it couldn't have stayed the same, could it?

What was your surprise when that Hoyt turned out to be old Charlie. Although his appearance was now quite pretentious: sheriff's clothes, hat and badge. Something was wrong. This man has been lazy all his life, he could not suddenly decide to go to work in a place related to healthcare. But you chose to remain silent. Hoyt didn't seem to recognize you. When he saw your friends, he invited them to go with them, saying that he had a can of gasoline at home.

"Take the guys, and then you'll come for us. I don't think the sheriff's car can hold that many people," Luda intervened, grabbing your arm protectively. It's got you a little stressed out. Although there was some truth in her words. Five former students came with you, all of them obviously wouldn't have gotten into Charlie's car. The man wanted to say something, but gave up, nodding to the woman.

And so they left. All that time, Luda was asking about your life, enjoying listening to stories from college. She was more interested in this than your own parents. And now Hoyt is back. He was in high spirits. You got to the Hewitt house safely. As a child, as now, the building was still huge for you. Luda carefully led you into the kitchen, offering you tea. God, you've missed this place.

"Tommy! Come here, we have guests," Luda shouted and you heard hurried rustles and heavy footsteps from the basement.

It made you tense up a little bit. Finally, a couple of minutes later, a tall man, the size of an entire closet, entered the kitchen. Your blood turned cold. You slowly looked up. A long, tall body, wavy dark hair and a leather mask on his face. He frowns down at you, seeming to evaluate you with his cold blue eyes.

"Tommy?" As if nothing had happened, Luda-Mae asks in a cheerful voice, "Do you remember Y/N?"

It seemed that at that moment the gears were turning in his head. You needed time to think about it too. Was this huge man Thomas? No, of course, Tommy was a bit of a big kid as a kid, but he was still quite small. The only thing that attracted attention was his bandage on his face. Now it has been replaced by a strange leather mask.

You didn't even have time to think, as careful footsteps were heard from the basement. It seemed, but Tommy and none of the People were found at first. And Tim appeared behind Thomas. God, he was covered in blood and his back was bleeding. Your face is filled with pure horror. And that gave Tim away. Thomas notices your fear and turns around, immediately grabbing Tim roughly and dragging him back to the basement. Your brain screamed like a hunted animal that you needed to get out of here and urgently. Something has happened to this family, something bad, since they communicate with other people like that. But as soon as you tried to run to the exit, at that moment you were hit by something heavy on the back of the head.

His heart ached for you. You were the first person who ever showed him kindness in your life, and now you will surely be afraid of him. God, he wouldn't want to see fear in your beautiful eyes when you're afraid of him. His body was filled with an unpleasant feeling of disappointment and pain. He didn't want that, really. But he wanted to keep you by his side, he didn't want to let you go again. And he didn't want you to hurt the family. So now he was gently wiping the remnants of blood from your beautiful face, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. You were still as beautiful, his heart began to beat faster, as it did when he was a child. He saw that toy in your friends' car, you kept it all these years. Thomas couldn't help but smile. Maybe you loved him too? Not now, not after what he did.

The following days were a blur. Your head ached, and an unpleasant heaviness tightened your neck. They put you on a chain. Thomas or Luda would check on you from time to time, Luda would just leave food, and Thomas would just sit on the bed next to you and just look at you. Sometimes he would try to touch you, but you would instantly jump aside like a wounded animal. Thomas's heart ached painfully in his chest. Although.. He deserved it, didn't he? All his life he was looked at with disgust or fear. But he didn't care about those people. All these simple passers-by or victims were just empty meat. But you were afraid of him now. He couldn't stand your gaze, full of fear for your life, so he left the room every time, unable to look in your eyes.

The days slowly followed each other. You were still afraid. But there was something else. Whenever Thomas enters the room, your eyes involuntarily glided over his big strong body. You wanted to snuggle up to him, find comfort in his arms. But there was a part of you that knew it was wrong. They killed people, they killed your friends. They chained you up and kept you here like some kind of dog. And yet your body was begging for his warmth, just like when you were a child.

What was Thomas's surprise when the next time he came into the room, you crawled closer to him, asking for a hug. Your arms clumsily wrapped around his body. Thomas blushed instantly. His heart felt so good. He gently grabbed you by the hips, putting you on his lap, and hugging your fragile body with his strong arms. He buried his nose in your hair. How he missed that feeling. His brain was filled with the scent of your skin. Thomas let out a relieved whimper as you began to gently run your fingers through his tangled hair.

He never left you, he won't let you go into this cruel world again. He will protect you with all his heart. His sweet girl.

Brahms Heelshire

"Now I've won," the man says in a hoarse voice through his cracked porcelain mask with a doll's face.

He was breathing heavily, hanging over you, his left hand pressed against the wall behind you, while the other reached out to your face, gently stroking.

"Still beautiful," he whispers, caressing your chin with his thumb, tracing your lower lip with his fingernail. Your heart was pounding wildly, you shrank under the man's gaze like a frightened animal. His movements were rough, but his touch seemed almost gentle, as if he didn't want to disrupt this moment or harm your fragile being. His breathing was loud and heavy because of the mask, and the skin under his eyes was slightly reddened. And those eyes. Those warm eyes are the color of pure amber under the bright sun. They looked at you with extraordinary affection and humility. You could recognize those eyes out of a thousand. Like back then, fifteen years ago.

You nervously clutched the steering wheel rim with your right hand, counting the turns. Not so long ago, you managed to get a new job, and who would have thought that this job would be in your childhood home. Or rather, your friend. They always treated you like their own child, so they gave you this job without any problems.

The weather was clear, it was only the beginning of autumn. Some of the trees have already turned golden, their leaves rustling unobtrusively. The sky was clear, without a single cloud, so the sun shone brightly through the windshield of your car. It seemed that nothing could spoil your return to your childhood home.

Your heart was beating fast in your chest. The mind was filled with thousands of pleasant memories of your past together and children's laughter. You missed Brahms so much. It's been a long time since you've seen him.

Finally, after a couple of long hours, you arrived at the Hilsher estate. It remained the same. Obviously, Mr. Heelshire was still carefully tending the garden, growing his wife's favorite flowers. You stopped right next to the driveway, the wheels moving pleasantly on the gravel. After getting out of the car, you went inside without thinking twice. The greenery of this place has always been striking in its beauty, it seemed that no seasons had power over this place, the forests of the estate still gave pleasure with their emerald color and the coolness of the dense grove.

You were met at the very door by Mrs. Heelshire. She has changed a lot since your last visit, of course, the years take their toll. Her eyes were a little red and tired, and there were small bruises under them. Her face was unusually pale and her hair was gray, but not as when it happens from age, but when a person goes through a lot of life difficulties and faces stress.

"Honey, I haven't seen you for so long," the woman said smiling, wrapping you in a warm embrace. Her hugs were pleasant, but strangely nervous, "We were surprised when we received your candidacy for this job."

"I just really wanted to come back. My parents wouldn't let me go just like that."

"And for good reason," the woman mutters to herself, immediately turning to face you with a warm smile, "We always want only the best for you, my girl, don't hold a grudge against us."

Her words strain you a little, but you attribute it to her slight excitement before the long-awaited vacation. After all, for as long as you can remember, Mrs. Heelshire has always been a caring and hardworking woman, she didn't know the word 'rest'.

After ten tedious minutes, Mrs. Heelshire explains to you the set of rules and your responsibilities. It seemed like she was trying in a hurry to tell you everything at once. Her eyes were constantly darting around the walls of the house.

And now you're alone. Taking care of the doll was not so difficult. Although you still didn't understand why the doll had the name of your childhood best friend. No one's parents told you what happened to Brahms, you just moved in a couple of days before his birthday. You didn't even have time to give him the gift you made with your own hands. Years later, you felt guilty about it. But now, that feeling seemed to be gone. It feels like you're finally in your place. You're home.

It happened two weeks after your arrival at the manor. As usual, you were sorting out the groceries that Malcolm brought while the man was standing next to you, leaning against the doorjamb. He was watching you carefully, talking about something. To be honest, you've noticed for a long time how ambiguously he looks at you. All those jokes, compliments, touches and glances. He was flirting with you. But you could definitely tell that he wasn't your type. Damn it, he was overconfident. But in a relationship, you wanted to 'be at the helm', you wanted a guy with character, but definitely obedient. And Malcolm definitely didn't fit that description.

"..hey, can you leave this doll after all? Let's go to my place. I'll show you a lot of interesting things," he says with a sly grin, taking a few steps closer.

"The Heelshirs left me here for a reason, I don't want to undermine their trust."

"Come on, do you really want to spend the rest of your life in a house with just this doll?" The guy purrs, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your neck. You are annoyed by his behavior and you step on Malcolm's foot with force. He hisses and quickly pulls away. "Fuck, are you stupid?"

"Watch your mouth, boy."

Malcolm tenses up. He hears rapid rustling in the walls, his eyes darting around the room.

"The hell with you," he finally gives up. Malcolm grabs the empty boxes and leaves the house, slamming the door behind him. You're relieved. He seems to be a man, but he behaves like a scared boy.

"Y/N.. Did he hurt you?" A small child's voice comes from somewhere in the hallway. You flinch a little. You knew that voice. Brahms. True, his voice was a little different in childhood, now it was quieter and plaintive. You quickly close the refrigerator and slowly walk towards the source of the sound.

"Who's here? Brahms?"

It all happened too fast. At first, you were driven by interest with a little bit of fear. In an instant, you saw a tall, broad figure towering over you by a good two heads. You were scared. You ran away, hoping to hide from a stranger. And one day you were pinned against the wall by a muscular figure.

"Y/N, don't be afraid... I didn't mean to scare you." A child's voice mumbles plaintively. You look into those hazel eyes and your heart sinks.

"Brahms?" In response, the man only reaches out to your face, gently caressing your cheek.

"Now I've won." His voice changes. Instead of a child's voice, a low, hoarse voice now caresses your ears. You feel electricity running down your spine, you instinctively squeeze your hips.

Your hands reach for the porcelain mask, but Brahms abruptly pulls away. He shakes his head negatively. He didn't want you to see his face. He doesn't want you to be scared. He doesn't want you to leave him like the others.

"Come on, Brahms. You're a good boy. Didn't you love kissing?" You speak with a slight smile. A long-drawn-out whine comes from under the mask. He nods briefly. You lift the edge of the mask, covering his hot lips with your own. Brahms's movements are fast and assertive, he bites your lips, squeezing your waist in his hands. He missed you so much.

#slashers x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #brahms x reader #brahms the doll #brahms heelshire x you #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x you #the leatherface #leatherface x reader #leatherface x you

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a-twistedheartslonging · 7 months ago

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Accidentally courting bunny boys by nuzzling and sniffing them

Rabbits smell heavenly especially from the top of their head to the back of their neck. Of course Yuu didn't just start deeply huffing the bunbuns, they waited until their friendship reached a comfort level to do that.

But when it did? Oh boy

The bunnies are 100% ready to pop a ring the moment yuu snuggles them and inhales after having a long and stressful day.

Epel has already talked to his family about his new human friend. The farm is sunny and much more comfortable than living in NRC, plus meemaw is ready to propose to yuu to be their grand child in law if Epel takes too long.

Riddle on the other hand has to fight with himself mentally. Yes he loves them, yes he wants to marry them but he needs to approach this calmly. He needs to butter up his mother to have her approval. Yuu being considered 'exotic' can help balance out the fact that they're not nobility, and if that doesn't work maybe he can try baby trapping them to convince his mother to let him take responsibility. No he didn't actually do any trapping since they expected that after his heat, but his mother doesn't need to know that.

"-deeply huffing the bunbuns-" instantly gave me this mental image.

I've had buns but they never really smelled like anything unless their cage was stanky.

Anyways, the "-yuu snuggles them and inhales after having a long and stressful day." Makes me think of Yuu tiredly popping open the bun boy's uniform shirt buttons and burying their face into the chest floof before letting out a loud deep sniff and our boy his so flustered.

Riddle probably yells something about Yuu being indecent despite loving it. Epel is smug as hell and trying to act all cool and brags about how Yuu must "love his manly musk."

Riddle's mom is gonna be a bitch no matter who he gets with but having a human mate could look good to his mom, don't go thinking she's going to stay out of your guy's personal lives though. She's prob gonna want Yuu to get a makeover and do etiquette classes and ask about kids as soon as you're married, though obviously, you can't until he's done with school and working and expects abstinence until said marriage.

Epel's fam are the most sweet and chill people, gonna be asking about when he's going to bring Yuu home for a visit as soon as they find out about his little human friend.

They must feed the human and make them want to stay.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ask #asks #nonhuman au #twst riddle #twst epel #riddle rosehearts #epel felmier #twisted wonderland epel #twisted wonderland riddle

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manidk1273 · 10 months ago

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🎀 — Prodigy

You were the result of a one night stand, your mother tried to "baby-trap" Tony but of course that didn't work. Though, by law— (and since your mother was unstable) you were under the custody of your father, Tony Stark. As the years pass.. he notices a lot about you.

You were the only (known) child of Tony Stark by far. Being only 2 weeks old when the mess happened, you didn't even have a name— You were only given one once your father, Tony Stark won the case. He chose a wonderful name for you.

You couldn't be more grateful. Sure, you were unplanned and it was a little bit messy but he loves you so much. He calls you his greatest creation. You didn't disappoint too. Of course the Stark's were known as geniuses. And you weren't excluded.. in fact, you progressed so much faster than any of your predecessors that scientists wanted to study you at the age of 7 months old. Of course, as your legal guardian and awesome father, Tony immediately turned down the offer.

At age 2, you could already properly read and write. With perfect grammar, you could write long informative text— even stories.

At age 4, you already were learning the fundamentals of mathematics. Addition, Subtraction, Multiplication, Division. And since your father didn't want you to go to public or private schools (too many risks.) he hired personal tutors for you. You already were progressing faster than anyone he ever saw before, and he was so proud.

At age 5, You already could understand the simpler inventions your father made. And it was better since he would explain it step-by-step to you. And this was your favourite time of the day, not only because you get to learn but also because you get to spend time with your dad.

At age 6— your IQ was just.. off the charts. You were devouring knowledge, information like it was your favourite food! And as the caring, loving father Tony is, he happily provided you the things you need (including his love and care.).

You were the youngest of many things. You were already marked as a genius at age 2. Not only did he find out you were a genius an interesting characteristic of yours is that you NEVER, ever forget. You even remembered everything that happened when you were 2 weeks old. You remember the exact date, location and time.. it was insane.

At age 7, you were already competing with competitors 5 times your age. And surprisingly, you won every competition you were in. But of course, you're humble. (Pepper teaches you to always be humble.)

You never ceased to stop learning. It was your hobby, it was fun for you. Everything you read was always imprinted in your mind instantly.

Tony is just.. the definition of proud whenever you do something. Whether it be winning a simple chess match, quiz bee.. trivia, whatever. In fact, he has two whole rooms dedicated to you. With your certificates, trophies, medals. He's just so proud.

As he says,

“ You're my pride and joy, kid. ”

That's currently my first ever try writing in Tumblr, I don't usually write much anymore but I used to be a writer in Wattpad and AO3 😅

I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes I did, please point it out so I can fix them! Much appreciated.

Thank you so much if you reached the end, good day to you<3

#tony stark #iron man #iron dad #tony stark x son!reader #proud parent #first post #tony stark x daughter!reader #no use of y/n #no pronouns #:)#<3 #Velvqtte🎀

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astrobiscuits · 10 months ago

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Local space astrology - a guide + some obs

Local space astrology is a tool for identifying the effect of planetary lines in different geographical locations. It's basically astrocartography, but at a local level. It's a great tool to use if you're planning to move to a city, but have no clue which neighbourhood you should choose, which university you should choose, which gym would give you the best results (aka you won't quit after 2 weeks lol)

To calculate local space charts for yourself, you can use this link

I've noticed that the geographical maps provided by astrodienst are a bit outdated, so for the best results, compare those maps with the ones on google maps

(i'm sorry for the slightly cut map😭😭 there was no option to save the whole picture without taking a ss)

This is a map of (mostly) central London. Let's assume i'm going to move to London because i want to pursue a major in arts/music. Generally speaking, the best lines for me would be Neptune line, Venus line or MC line (which is at the bottom of this map).

You have probably noticed that some lines have a symbol of two united circles. Those are the planet opposition lines - they're indicators of the energy that is located on the point opposing your natal placements.

Let's go back to my example. While dealing with my university dillema, i've decided to pursue my higher education on my Neptune line. But which side of my Neptune line would be better? My natal Neptune is in Aquarius in my 11th house. The upper Neptune line, my Neptune opposition line, points out to the energy of my natal Neptune being expressed in my 5th house of hobbies and creativity. If my goal is to become a world-renowned artist/musician or i'm someone who produces an unique style of art/music, then i'm going to choose my Neptune line. If my goal is to become an art/music teacher, then i'm going to choose my Neptune opposition line. The outcome depends on the natal chart's planetary configuration, not just the local space chart.

Now that you've got the gist of it, here are some additional general observations:

🥧 Choosing to go to a gym on your Venus line will only bring results if your natal Venus is in your 1st house/conjuncting Ascendant or in your 6th house. Your body will look aesthetically pleasing and your health will improve drastically

🥧 If you want to study medicine or law, one of the best lines for you would be Saturn line. Choosing an university on a Venus line might prove to be too laidback for you and it won't offer you the possibility of becoming your best self through difficulties and hardships

🥧 For the best internet connection, you should move to your Uranus line. Or find a coffee shop where you can work on your Uranus line (unless your natal Uranus is heavily afflicted, then don't - just don't)

🥧 If you have a lil kid and you need to enroll him in daycare, look at your child's local space chart. It would be best for him to go to a daycare where his Moon line passes through. He will feel safe and his caretaker will closely resemble the way you take care of your child

🥧 Seeking a therapist in a new city can prove to be challenging when you have no trusted opinions. According to local space astrology, it would be best for you to go to a therapist's office on a Pluto line or Moon line, but you can choose a different line depending on your 12th house placements

🥧 The best parties you'll attend are probably going to be on your Jupiter line. The memories you are going to make on this line will last a lifetime and you'll remember them fondly. You are also likely to find your favorite restaurant on this line

🥧 If you are feeling sleepy, sad or just in a funk, going to a park where your Sun line passes through will uplift your mood instantly. You might often feel like you are being renewed on this line, like a blooming flower on the verge of springtime

#astro #astro community #astrology #astro placements #astro observations #astro posts #astroblr #astro blog #astro notes #local space astrology #astrocartography

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galaxyfever · 2 years ago

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6:41 pm

You hummed to yourself as you made dinner.

"So... About the grandkids.."

You paused and gave her a look, "Mom."

"Just listen to me! Look look look, your father-in-law and I stayed up all night making this PowerPoint about the pros of having kids."

Gojo's father raised a hand from the couch, "She made me stay up because she doesn't know how to make a PowerPoint."

Gojo's mother gave him a glare, "I can poison your food, shut your goddamn mouth."

The older gojo instantly looked away with a small, 'got it.'

You chuckled, "What about the cons?"

She shrugged, "I don't know that word, sorry."

You gave her another look, "Mom..."

"Let me tell you something! When I was your age-"

You go to the couch to tap on your father in law's arm, gesturing to him that dinner is ready as he smiled in response.

"-and just think about it! Little bundles of joy in both of your lives! I'm not saying that it will be easy, but it's all going to be worth it! Just look at 'toru! He is the sweetest boy!"

You raised a brow with a small 'mhm' as Dad grumbled, "And a brat," he turned to look at you, "Sweetie, make sure your child isn't a brat.

You smiled, "I'll make sure of it Dad. but-"

Mom tutted, "Why are you thinking about butts? This is the prime time of your lives when you are crazy for each other!"

You tilted your head, "Aren't you guys crazy for each other?"

They simultaneously shared a look before collectively sighing, your mother-in-law dramatically looks off into the distance, "Your father-in-law makes me crazy, but it's a different kind of crazy now, than it was many years ago."

The mentioned gojo talks with his mouth full, "No comments."

Your mother huffed, "See? Disgusting. This is what will happen after you grow old."

You smiled and served her a plate, "I kinda find it endearing though. You guys are like best friends!"

Your mother rolled her eyes, "After more than almost 30 years, it gets annoying."

They started bickering as you sighed, pulling up your phone to ask your beloved husband about how long he'll take.

But before you could call him, the door of the house opens, "Wah! It's so cold! I was literally freezing!"

"Satoru!" Mother gojo cries, "When am I getting grandchildren?!"

"Huh? Grandchildren- mphh," You shut Satoru up with a kiss and smiled, "Welcome back."

He smiled dreamily, "Hey there baby, what's going on?"

You playfully rolled your eyes, "Mom wants grandchildren."

He looks even more confused, "Wha- you didn't tell them?"

A mischievous giggle escaped your lips as you shook your head, "I was waiting for you."

His mother furrowed her brows, "Didn't tell us what?"

Dad dramatically gasped, "Satoru, don't tell me you're infertile!"

Satoru whined as you laugh, "Not funny Dad! Wife, tell 'em!"

You grinned and held your husband's hand, "Mom, Dad, we are having a baby!"

....

Mom's eyes rolled back as she went unconscious.

Dad's eyes widened as he caught her by the waist before she could topple to the floor.

"....You broke her, guys."

so this is actually inspired by this by @wito-chan-bla-bla go show this one a lot of love!! thanks for reading<33

#gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo fluff #jjk #fem reader

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howyouloveyourdragon · 2 years ago

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Everybody Wants You

warnings: infidelity accusations, miscommunication, angst, eventual fluff, misogyny (first paragraph only) pronouns: she/her summary: You're tired of all the rumours; that your betrothed has found loyalties of the heart elsewhere in Winterfell. wordcount: 2,204 A/N: i don't write angst a lot so please let me know what you think

You sigh and press a palm to your forehead as another lord demands further gold for his allyship with Rhaenyra. "Our Queen has gifted you land already, my lord, what more do you want?" Your voice is firm, much like your Queen. Commanding but inquiring. The lord huffs like a child without his toy. "Well for starters I want promises from the prince not his sour-faced bitch." Gasps echo and your eyes are set ablaze but you take deep calm breaths like your future mother-in-law taught you. "He is in Winterfell, there is not much I can do about that. If you must speak with him then you may send letters though I doubt you will receive an answer. You are speaking with a future princess of the realm and I am certain my betrothed will not be much pleased to hear such vulgarity in reference to myself, remember yourself Lord Dullton." This time you are cold and authoritative though it only garners a sharp insincere laugh before you. "You are nothing but a whore that bores him." He sneers and instantly a sword is drawn by your closest guard. Again you inhale a now languid breath. "You are dismissed." You snap, clenching your fists. Another angry woman in power is not what the people need right now. They do not need more poor illustrations of what a powerful woman can be but you will not allow disrespect. Your cool gaze pans the room but you know as the guards edge him away from you that this is merely the first of many incidents made to disrespect your impending marriage.

In an attempt to dispel your boiling anger you play with the rings across your fingers until they rest on an all too familiar shape and your throat bobs. Your eyes drag down to it of their own volition even though another loyal Lord is standing in front of you. Your teeth dig deep to burrow into your plush lower lip but it's not the pain that mists over your eyes nor the prior humiliation you had been dealt–it's the length of time your husband-to-be had abandoned you in favour of the North. Your gleaming eyes stare down at the ruby strewn design of his house emblem wrapped in a sphere of gold. It had all been going so well, he had been arriving early to bring flowers to your chambers before you awoke, the ones you had missed so much in Highgarden where you were born. He insisted on dining together every night. He was opening up to you–all night you had spent with him as he finally told you how he found out about his younger brother's passing...how much he regretted asking his mother to send them both to gather support, how he thought it was his fault. Everything was finally starting to feel like home...And then that dreaded letter came. The one who's writing you couldn't recognise, the surprised giddiness that erupted in his stomach when he saw the Stark seal. You cast the memory from your mind like it were a ghost but that was before you had spoken with Mushroom. If you closed your eyes you could still feel the anxiety stealing the air from your lungs, the clawing at your raw throat, tearing the ruby necklace as though it were causing you to break out in hives and boils. It was too shiny to be real and you curse yourself for not realising that.

Now you sit in a large hall of narrowing eyes and harsh impressions. You swallow back any remaining discomfort and answer their sharp-tongued questions and remarks with as much eloquence as you can manage. Ser Landor is tense and straining at your side, a loyal knight that was sent to you from the Queen herself when you arrived in Dragonstone–back then it was still a time of war and she thought it safest to keep you within her close royal sphere. He's itching for a fight but you send a deliberate glance as another asks where the Prince of Dragonstone has gone and more importantly, why. Eventually, the meeting closes to an end and only once everyone is gone do you slump back in your chair with a sigh of relief. If you just let in the silence for a minute you could still hear his whispers. "I love you" Just for a minute. You swear that's all you need. One minute. Please. The loud doors rip you from your daydream and it sends a harsh jolt to tear your body back into reality. Where your eyes take in the remnants of where your heart used to venture eagerly. A breath as shaky as an autumn leaf clogs your throat at the sympathetic gaze Landor sends you. "Stop it." You manage to spit out as you stand to turn toward the doors too. He steps in front of it. "I swore to protect you." He reminds you, voice as soft as the gentle breeze. You can tell he hesitates seconds before his fingers come in contact with your arm. He takes the risk and forces your gaze to meet his piercing one. "Even from rude courtiers." His cheeky grin sends a bubbling laugh through your throat and you shake your head. "That will not be necessary." You sidestep him even though there's a lingering tension hanging over you which you both understand. A silent promise hanging over you. "and from negligent princes." He says and you're grateful the other guards have left for their assigned posts. You don't answer, simply brushing past him and into the suffocating air of the hallway. These few months were not how you planned them.

When you reach your chambers you freeze. A familiar set of flowers line your bed and instead of the excitement which should eat away at you, it's anxiety. Something has changed. Your skin crawls as painfully familiar hands creep up your waist and wrap around you. "My princess," utters in your ear, his warm breath connecting your minds in a stream across the shell of your ear. He doesn't seem to notice as you stiffen against him. You selfishly wish he hadn't returned so abruptly, that he didn't warn you. "I missed you." He utters quietly, dotting kisses along the edge of your right shoulder until he can spread them across your neck. You close your eyes, enjoying the moment one final minute longer. Giving yourself the minute you longed for so terribly only to realise it felt as stale as leftover bread. You cringe out of his arms and turn to find his eyes gazing warmly at you. It strikes as hard as a slap when you look upon his blissfully ignorant expression. His hands reach for your own, frowning when they jump away from him. His lips part and his brows pinch. "What's wrong?" Jacaerys asks. You can tell as his breath shallows. His eyes once so gentle now look sharp as they roam over your figure. "Are you hurt? Is something wrong."

You want to answer him but you can't force the words out as your cool façade that had been pushed onto your face long before even the meeting starts to crack. You were never good at pretending when it came to him. "So you have finally decided to come home?" You ask, your voice usually so soft and mellifluous through his ears now sounds cold and mechanical. It feels wrong. He blinks back in surprise and swallows, mouth suddenly dry like the tone of your words. "Yes." He answers quietly, afraid to say anything else. "Why." It comes out more like a demand and his face contorts uneasily. He takes a step back, trying to process your reaction. "What do you mean, my love?" His question is cut slightly short once he begins to utter the last word. You raise a defensive shaky hand in front of you. "Don't." You growl–much like you imagine the wolf he has been entertaining. "Don't call me that." Your tongue slightly stutters on 'call' and a pit heavies in Jacaerys's stomach. "Not anymore." There's silence as the gears in his mind twirls itself into a frenzy. A sick feeling nestles in his gut, threatening to spill. "What's wrong?" It's as if he's whimpering, pleading to understand but your eyes glaze over in a mix of anger and pain. "Please, whatever it is, let me fix it, I will, just...just please tell me." He steps forward again but you flinch back and his concern grows. "No, that's not fair." He says though his words are soft and caring. You take in a shaky inhale. "Did she finally tire of you like you tired of me?" You ask. "Or did you tire of her?" Confusion darts through his eyes, lips slanting downward. "Who?" The Prince asks. The Prince, you have to remind yourself, not your Prince anymore.

"You know who." You murmur. Every footstep from outside your chambers and through the hallway rings through your ears, reminding you of all the horrible "Your darling Stark girl." His heart drops to his feet with the same weight as a boulder. "Sara? No, no, I swear it, she–" "Do you love her?" "No, of course not!" Both your volumes have risen now. "So I truly mean so little to you?" This time when he surges forward, he grasps your hands tightly. "My love no, you mean everything to me." His eyes mist with unshed tears and he has to withhold blinking to keep them locked inside his gaze. He shakes his head softly. "I," He swallows. "It is true that I held affections for her a time ago," You scoff and turn your head away, preparing to flee. "But not anymore!" He blurts quickly, dropping to his knees in front of you. "I promise." He vows, searching the gates of your soul for any hidden key you might have left out for him. Any sense of familiar warmth. "I promise everything ended when I met you. I don't care what any court fool says and–" "I care." You snap. "Do you know how they look at me when you are absent? When they know where you are or rather who you are with?" His blinks quicken, desperate to bury them away. "You leave me among the foxes and the hunters, the only thing between two predators for the woman you are not betrothed to. The one everybody knows you long to be with." He shakes his head, desperation clawing at him.

"I was there for Cregan and Cregan only, I swear it to you, I only leave you here because I trust your judgement and only yours. I will never leave you again if that is what it takes." You close your eyes, unable to hold back your tears for much longer. "I love you." He brings your hand against his lips and kisses it roughly. "You. I love you. I love you. I love you so much that given the choice I would let it devour me if you willed it to. I would let you rule me body and soul and I would smile because you are still by my side, forever a part of me I never wish to abandon." You don't open your eyes but oh how he wishes to capture your pretty gaze and keep it locked away for only him at that moment. "Please look at me, I can't bear this." He whispers and begrudgingly you do, your eyelids flutter apart and he can see your glassy irises sparkling. It feels wrong to think how beautiful you are even now but he can't help it. "Everybody wants you, Jacaerys. They want you, they don't care how they do it so long as they pull you away from me, and you let them! I cannot marry a man who strays for another." He shakes his head again and stands up so he can cup your face. "No," He breathes. "There is only you, I promise no one will take me from you, I belong to you and you only. I will run away with you if you only ask for it, I would mount Vermax and take you wherever your heart desires just please..." He shuts his eyes tight. "don't do this." His hands clutch at you like you're the oxygen of a dying man. "I don't want you to hurt me." "I won't." He replies instantaneously and opens his eyes as he threads his words. His index finger gently makes contact with your ring finger, gently coaxing you as he strokes along its edges. He brings it to his lips. "I made you a promise when I had this made and I do not intend to break it. If I ever hurt you again I will hurl myself into as many flames and oceans as you see fit just please do not do this." Jacaerys eyes search yours less like a quest and more as a comfort now as your shoulders soften. "I love you more than time itself." He vows, breath fanning across your lips. Your unruly dragon has tamed himself and once again he is your prince.

#jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon x reader ff #jacaerys velaryon x reader fanfic #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd ff #house of the dragon ff

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janaknandini-singh999 · 1 year ago

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When the non binary planet fell in love with a gender fluid deity <3

part 1

part 2 here

Ila/Sudyumna: she/him

Budh: they/them

source: the Hindu mythology tales according to which Ila gave birth to Chandravanshis (the lunar dynasty) and Budh was the Mercury planet

"Do I know you?" the prince batted his long eyelashes, furrowing his eyebrows

Budh sighed. Their heart broke every time their lover didn't even recognize them.

Budh had been cursed by their maharishi (sage) father to be born as a gender neuter when he had come to know that Budh was an illegitimate child.

"You have betrayed me!" He had shouted at his wife "May your child be born neither as male or female. Be it be outside just as you're neither here nor there!"

Budh had been often made fun of because of that. It used to hurt them all the time but their mother used to say "Don't worry, child. You will find your purpose, too." gently patting and kissing their forehead

They weren't as convinced of that, though

Not until they met Sudyumna

As soon as they laid eyes on him, they knew their destiny had come walking right to them. As soon as he had entered that forest, Budh had hid behind a tree, biting their lips and frantically thinking of calling out to Sudyumna to warn him that this was no ordinary forest but a magical one woven by Shiva himself called Shravana. Any being who'd enter this forest of Shravana would be turned into a female. It was a special place where Shiva and Parvati made love but Parvati was furious one day when males used to enter and intrude them so Shiva granted the forest the ability to turn anyone who'd enter it, to a female

"Prince- !" Budh started

Too late

Sudyumna had already started transforming into a woman. He looked around at his body slowly changing but before he could react, it was done

Budh's eyes had widened. Sudyumna had turned into the most beautiful woman they had ever seen. The jewels and clothes were still the same but now a female body inhabited the prince's attire.

"Who am I?" Sudyumna had been confused after having forgotten everything about when he was a male

Suddenly Sudyumna's gaze had fallen upon Budh

She had blinked her long eyelashes "Please help me. I think I'm lost" she had whispered in broken tones, afraid that she was all alone in this vast forest and she didn't even remember who she was "I know it sounds absurd but I- I don't.. Do you know who I am?"

Budh had been so pained to see Sudyumna this way but they still couldn't just help but fall for Sudyumna even more

"Ila" Budh said the first name that came to them

"Ila" she echoed, relishing the sound of the name, making it settle in her heart.

At last, she had smiled

And Budh had smiled back

A month went by and both had grown deeper in love with each other, living happily in the forest together

Budh had told Ila about what happened to Sudyumna, about who she really was. They didn't want to hide anything from her. And Ila listened in awe. It was hard to believe at first but as soon as Budh showed her other male creatures entering the forest instantly turning into females, she was dumbfounded

On the last day before the next month, Budh told Ila that now she'd change again into the male body as Sudyumna, losing memories of everything during when she was Ila. And this is how it would go on. One month as Ila, one as Sudyumna and so on.

That is the law of Shivshakti's Shravana

Ila closed her eyes and nodded slowly. When she opened them again, there were tears in them

"I will forget you, too?"

Budh nodded, unable to form any words because of the grief. Grief of losing the only one who had understood them, who felt so connected to them. Gender had rolled a dice and played a game with both of them so they were similar but Budh didn't fall for their lover just because of that. Gender was never the determinant because Budh loved regardless of when their lover's body was of a man's or woman's, whether it was this birth or any other

They loved Sudyumna/Ila. Always

"I don't want to," Ila continued, lowering her eyes, averting them away from Budh. Suddenly, she looked up, a wistful glint in her eyes "Make me remember again. Like you did. Please, I can't afford to forget you" she held Budh's hands tightly, as if clutching an anchor of her memories with them. She caressed Budh's face, as if to memorize each atom of their skin, their soul. So reverently, praying that nothing would be ever able to forget her of this. "Make me remember us. Every time. Promise me, please."

"I do" Budh kissed her eyes

Ila smiled and dissolved into a light as her body started transforming again. Budh stood back

And there he was

Sudyumna

Budh turned around and started walking away, seeking shelter behind the trees as he did before Sudyumna came in their life. They will always keep a protective eye over their lover from there

"Hey!"

Budh stopped in their tracks, heart banging against the chest. Maybe Sudyumna did still remember them, after all! Budh turned around

"Do I know you?" The prince batted his long eyelashes, furrowing his eyebrows

Budh sighed now "I am Budh"

"Nice to meet you, Budh!" Sudyumna held out his hand

Budh smiled politely and shook it, their eyes falling on the scar visible on his palm

"Oh, that's just another battle mark. Badges of honour, ya know? I have many!" Sudyumna beamed

Budh nodded "I know"

They remembered tracing and kissing all scars on Ila's body. There were actually a lot of them. And Budh knew exactly where each one was

"Maybe someday as Sudyumna I could tell you the stories behind each one of them" Ila had whispered, kissing Budh back

"You know about my scars?" Sudyumna said now "Isn't it the first time of us meeting.. umm? OH, where are my manners!? I didn't even introduce myself. My name is Sudyumna and-" He suddenly looked around at the forest "Wait, how much time exactly have I been HERE? I'm sorry but I really need to rush back to my kingdom right now. Again, it was a pleasure to meet you, Budh."

Budh looked at his silhouette going away

Neither here nor there

So, somewhere in the midst of it all

Meet me again?

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