#can child neglect be mild?

[tarjapearce]

can we get something about reader having a kid before she met Miguel. her ex was treating her poorly while she was pregnant and after she gave birth, having her to clean the house and take care of their newborn cause the ex was too lazy and verbally abusive? After knowing Miguel for awhile, reader becomes preggo and she’s super scared that she’ll be neglected, but Miguel’s with her the whole time. or a happy ending of your choice🫣

Yee ✨

Parallels and Opposites

Landlord! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Verbal abuse, manipulation toxic relationships dynamics, controlling behavior, gaslight, mild graphic depictions of domestic violence, hurt, struggles, fluff towards the end. No proofread.

Summary: Miguel shows you what true love and family means.

If someone asked you, what would be your biggest regret, a simple name would come to mind. Samuel 'Sam' Lawson.

The man that with his sweet words and lies had stolen you out of the comfortableness and stability of your home. A man that had seduced you right after you finished college and spoke about how you'd be his perfect little housewife.

Someone that played a perfect house angel role and had convinced your parents to live with him a couple of days after the graduation ceremony. Someone that without a doubt, would've teached Judas his own lying game since it proved effective on you and everyone around you.

Samuel was loving, always filling you with gifts and smiles, always making sure you knew his heart was yours, and always making sure you wouldn't have to worry for things such as money. You were happy.

So happy that ignored the micro-aggressions that hid between the loving noise. Beyond happy that you grown used to his presence, even when he didn't need to be there and ignored your few friend's warnings of his controlling and possessive behavior.

They were just jealous that they didn't have someone like him. Right?

It was normal for your loved one to pull you apart from those friendships that deemed toxic, right?

"They're always criticizing us, babe. They're just jealous I take care of you the way they wished their simpleton partners would. You don't need people like that in our lives."

And little by little your friend's circle decreased considerably, but Sam was always there. Ever loving and supporting. Even when in his outbursts he always made sure to say it was all for your good, because he loved you. That everything he did was for you, like it's always been.

He loved you so damn much that it hurt and his relief was beer, staying outside home until late, or fucking you till your body begged for a break.

Life was generous and good, so good you had gotten pregnant. Sam was ecstatic. You finally were carrying his child. And it was enough to make you his fiancé.

"We ain't married yet, but til death do us apart, honey." He'd say, peppering your face in kisses.

There was nothing to fear. All those seedlings of doubts your friends had put, were sapped away, He loved you.

Until he found out you were having a baby girl.

His loving and protective facade begun slowly chipping away.

The beer's stench stuck on his body and breath most of the times Sam was awake. His bad mood was always rampant, making every little thing an inconvenience that didn't help your crumbling relationship.

A few dishes rested comfortably on the sink? He'd scream and to calm him down, you'd rush to clean it all up. His snacks crumbs were in his favorite seat? God forbid to Sam see them cause it was another round of cruel jokes.

"Maybe if you weren't that fat to clean, this place wouldn't look this bad."

It was his bad humor. You thought at first. You knew he had a bad temper, but you were too busy falling inlove to actually notice it seeping through the cracks. You were too busy loving him that ignored the liquid anger pooling at your feet. Slowly filling the four walls you inhabited.

He'll change.

You clung to that thought alone, hoping that this phase was only temporary. That he'd go back to the same man you met. The same mn that got you breakfast in bed and took you to dance the many times you wanted.

Not this man that hurt your mind with whatever nonsense about your body he thought and his mouth spilled. Or hit the walls, instead of hitting you because he loved you.

He loves me.

"Where's my fucking dinner?"

He's just having a bad time with the medical expenses. That's all.

"You fucking stay here all day long doing shit, instead of keeping it all together while I work my ass off to get your fatass whims."

"I clean and cook, Sam." your mouth mumbled and it was enough for him to be invading your space, his taller frame cornering you against the shiny counter you always cleaned up.

"The fuck did you say?"

You gulped. The words replaying in your mind but unable to come out of your mouth. He seemed pleased on the smell of your fear.

"Wouldn't it the least you could do to your hard working husband, hmm?"

You didn't want to admit that these sudden hot and cold games confused you to no end. But they fed your hope of bringing him back.

"I'm sorry." You hushed and he caressed your chin a bit roughly, making you look at him.

"I know. I know pregnancy is hard on you, but your babygirl is not an excuse to not tend your husband's need, honey. You gotta do better. For me."

You nodded while he kissed your forehead and you got away to serve him his dinner.

"We can't have any more mishaps, can we?"

"I'll do it better, ok?"

He squeezed you against him, satisfied you'd acknowledged your mistakes.

"Good girl."

-----

As the pregnancy went on, so did Sam's moods wings. One minute he had all the hots for you, and when he was done, having his fun, he'd go back to his cold and rude self.

Any little mistake on your end was the perfect excuse for him to throw his harbored venom your way. If he didn't attack the apparent laziness, he'd go for how weak and pathetic you were only cause the baby.

And the more he pressed, the more you got tired of only nodding with a head down. And when you talked back, he only laughed and blamed your hormones for being such a drama queen.

You amused him, and your fight response even better. Yelling became the new thing in the Lawson's home. And each made sure to have a proper turn.

Until little Lily was born.

Things grew obnoxiously quiet for Sam as you were too focused on Lily to indulge his outbursts.

At least he was gentleman enough to keep it quiet, for a bit. But Sam needed that hatred, that yelling and anger to fuel him. So he found a new way to make sure you engaged into his baiting.

He'd make noise on purpose, waking you both and Lily, keeping you exhausted and at the verge of tears. You even begged him once to let you sleep, you couldn't allow another accident due to you being beyond tired.

The bag under your eyes were heavier, weight fluctuated, but even so, Lily remained your priority. And that pissed him to no end.

That in and out continued, stretching for a long long time, everyone around you kept warming you, but you always managed to spin the conversation around. Tired was always something that described you. Your parents grew concerned and the few friends that remained on your side only supported you and Lily

Sam always had an excuse to skip family reunions. But everyone knew that it was a matter of time things to go sour.

And when your final wake up call arrived, it was like a blindfold had been removed from you.

It wasn't the argue this time, neither the beat down he awaited for so long to deliver you, despite your protest and pleas for him to stop hitting you, but the fact Sam was targeting Lily as the new victim of his rage out of control. Only cause you refused sex to him.

Because of her, you never wanted to fuck with him like the old times, you were never in the mood for anything since she arrived. Would it all be better if she was gone?

Definitely.

His mind reasoned.

But before any more tragedies could happen in the day, the vase he always complained about silenced him as it crashed on his nape, knocking him out.

And it was enough time for you to pack up whatever thing you felt necessary, grabbed your two year old crying toddler, and ran away. Ran into the freedom of the night away from Sam's suffocating claws.

No bruise or pain in your body mattered. No scream or insult engraved in your brain by his commanding and absolute voice did. Sam didn't matter anymore.

"We'll be fine, sweetheart." A reassure to you and your toddler.

----

After sojourning through different shelters and housing programs and financial aids, you finally managed to land a proper job that eventually managed you to afford a car. As long as it was functional, in good conditions, and safe wise for Lily, you couldn't care less about the model.

Your baby was three now, and finally you had managed to get a lease in a place in the middle of Nueva York's city. Perfect to reach Lily's school and your work. Life was making sure to reward your suffering with a fresh start.

The new landlord, however was everything you expected a landlord to be. Quiet, reserved, perpetually busy, grumpy at times but surprisingly, gentle and careful with the kids in the building.

Thanks to Lily, and her need of running away in random moments for you to play with her, you had ran into his apartment, your baby giggled as she stumbled upon a curious and surprised looking Miguel in the doorway.

"My goodness, I'm so sorry! Lily, darling come! This is not playtime."

Miguel chuckled softly as your daughter hid behind him.

"I think your mother is right, princesita. Go to her."

"But she is no fun!" Lily pouted, "And she's always busy and tired to play with me."

Your cheeks flustered and your eyes blinked, truly not expecting for her to vent your personal occurrences, but also hurting for the tinge of disappointment in her voice.

Miguel picked her up, and your heart leaped nervously, ready to take the harsh and judging words for not being able to properly take care of your child, like everyone.

But they never came.

"I know it must be frustrating for you to not having mommy to play with you, corazón, but running into places like that is wrong. And quite dangerous. Something could happen to you, and mommy would be extremely sad and upset."

Lily nodded apologizing, as he delivered her back to you.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. O'Hara. It won't happen again."

"Don't worry about it. They're children."

"Say sorry to Mr. O'Hara for running without his permission into his home."

Your baby girl apologized, and after him reassuring it was fine, that she only needed to be careful, you returned to your apartment.

Miguel O'Hara or Mr. O'Hara for the other tenants, seemed a regular man, always up to something in the building and making sure everyone lived in perfect conditions. A place that most in the neighborhood wanted to live in.

Not only because of him and his gorgeous looks, but the actual quality of life the building had, despite being an old one.

If the sink was dripping, he made sure to see it as soon as possible. You found out that plumbing, wall repairing and other appliances were in his repertoire of knowledge, he was a multitasking man, that always waved your little girl of they met in the hall, no matter how busy he was.

The 'Hi, Mr. O'Hara!' echoed every morning through the halls along his 'Good morning, princesita.' and every evening when you returned from work and picking up Lily.

But besides your toddler interacting with him, there wasn't much reason for you to approach him. Matters of the heart were too recent and fragile to approach. Your heart had so much to do to glue back the pieces Samuel had made sure to break.

And he was always busy. Always with his head into something. Life however had these little moments that conceded you a hint of what ifs and what not.

Like Miguel helping you with the grocery bags that gave you trouble, Him making sure everything in your apartment worked properly, fixing a tire from your car and sharing a bit of his food, something that Lily rambled once to him. She told him about you praising the smell of his food from across the hall, and next thing you know, is him delivering a bowl of freshly made Tinga in your hands.

"Made a bit too much of it." He mumbled with a coy smile after greeting Lily with a smile.

He was good with the other kids, but with Lily he interacted the most. The other kids just greeted him and kept it to themselves.

Food sharing however, was only the start of something neither were aware of it brewing.

It all started with you, retrieving the favor with some baked goods, a flan. Something your daughter saw him eating a couple of times along a pack of coffee. He was always smelling like that fancy colombian package with extra roast. And a little Thank you note.

He replied with an envelope full of coupons from the supemarket on things you'd need, along a 'Saw these in my mail, I think they're more useful to you."

Cause in truth, what other concerns a single and childless man like him could have?

He realized you were a single mom cause of Lily. He noticed how she never mentioned her dad.

"Mommy doesn't like talking about him."

The girl said and it was enough for him to understand.

A couple of days later, you'd have him in the kitchen sink, looking through the pipes of the dishwasher. As it refused to work.

Miguel was patient, and explained what was wrong and pulled out a couple of toys in pieces that obstructed the blades.

Your cheeks were burning from the embarrassment, but he wasn't mad. He wasn't angry at your toddler for behaving like a child. Unlike Sam, that yelled whenever Lily cried.

"Don't you worry about it. It happens way too often than you think."

"Still, sorry, There's times when I just wanna come home and crash on bed. Work is a bit stressful and I just wanna do my best for her."

"Hey, relax." His hand caressed your arm gently, a brief yet soothing gesture that had your heart running leaps in your chest, "She's lucky to have you as a mom."

"You think? I felt terrible when she said I didn't have any time to play with her."

"She's too young to understand all what you must do for her, preciosa. Don't rack your brain about it."

"Thank you, Miguel." His words had been like a balm to your aching soul. None had actually had the decency to acknowledge everything you did for your kid, as they were all too busy judging. But not Miguel.

He cleared his throat and rubbed his neck nervously.

"I... I was wondering if you wanted to come to my place and have some dinner?"

"Oh?"

He gulped on your surprise, "It's alright if you don't. I think... fuck. I think that was too soon." He swallowed again, tensing.

You chuckled, "It's alright. I'll bring the dessert. And Lily if that's okay."

"It's perfect" He breathed, relieved, "She needs to keep me updated in this story on the beetle she saw in her classroom."

You laughed and his heart shuddered at the sound.

"Seems we both need an update on it."

----

"And it flew! It was buzzing and then landed on a flower outside."

"No way! Look at that, you fought the beetle! "

"Mommy says they help the flowers to grow. But everyone was scared and I fought it off!"

"Good job, princesa." Miguel chuckled as he served Lily her plate of food while you cut the flan in pieces.

The not so-date was fun and offered you a new perspective on eachother. And so the many others you had.

But life had been in a weird mood that pressed enough just to remind you, the dangers out there.

You had just came from a true date with Miguel as Lily was with her grandma. You really never lost contact with your parents, and when you grew quiet, they were concerned. But now that everything was going as smoothly as it could, the weekend visits were a must to make up for all the missing time.

You took the elevator first, to change into something more, sultry to match the night overall's mood. The soft caresses and lingering looks between Miguel and you were undeniable. And rightfully so, he had earned that spot into your heart, and what a better way to reward him with something you both died for to enjoy?

As you grabbed your keys and opened the door, a rough calloused hand grabbed you by your hair.

"Well, well.. Long time no see honey."

He pushed you in, but you budged, moving away from him yet his firm grip tightened.

"Let me go!"

Samuel had found you, after years of looking on his own. His beer breath wasn't news, yet the stench of it all made you retch and move away.

He slammed you against the wall and hovered over your trembling form.

"Where's Lily?!" he grabbed you by the collar of your dress and you spat his face.

"Fuck you!" A punch landed on your cheekbone, sending you to the floor, stunned.

"Do you know how long it took me to find you?! Where the fuck is my daughter!?"

He sat on your hips to ground you as his fist hovered over your face. No harm came however.

Strong and tanned hands pulled the paler guy away from you, like a ragdoll, growling as Miguel squashed him against the floor.

Samuel was no match for him, but the last thing you needed was more violence. Despite the anger consuming him, Miguel tossed Samuel off the stairs, earning him a pained groan from the man.

Your ex laid on the floor, unable to get up as Miguel dialed the police. Within matters of minutes, Samuel had been taken care of and took away.

You on the other hand, cried in Miguel's arms. Shaking and sobbing as the landlord himself tended your wounds, apprehension in his face.

How dared that man to touch you?, How dared that man to even think about hurting his own child? He was thankful Lily wasn't around, or Migue truly didn't know what he would be capable of.

You had explained everything to him. How it all started with Samuel, how everything changed and how you had to escape him in order to save Lily from a certain death.

To your little surprise, Sam had been escaping the law for a few years now. But that chapter in your life was now closed and tossed forever to a vault underground and threw the key somewhere you couldn't care less at the moment, nor later or ever.

"You're safe now, corazón." He cradled you against his chest, promising not a single harm would come to you now.

----

The two parallel lines in the pregnancy test finally showed up, announcing the start of a new life within you.

Moving in with Miguel in his apartment, was only one of the many perks that came in hand when dating him.

Your heart finally had the chance of opening and receive and give all that love you always dreamed of receiving again.

Miguel didn't lie, Miguel didn't treat you good because he wanted something out of you, he praised you whenever your efforts came to fruition, and was always pampering Lily, to the point of her calling him by accident dad a couple of times.

But he liked it. He loved the sound of that title in your daughter's life. Miguel was everything that was good in this world. Sure, he had a temper, but never lashed out on you or Lily. He never yelled or screamed, or bait you into a fighting game.

And it terrified you at first. You were so used to chaos that anything like calm and conflict resolution was something you had to learn if you wanted him to be at your side.

Therapy always worked and it helped you to improve all those pestering thoughts Samuel had planted on your mind.

Miguel had taken his sweet time into proving that you no longer had to fear for your life and Lily's. That you no longer had to scream to have your voice listened or that you had to fight in order to have something done.

You didn't have to be on survival and flight or fight mode.

And when you delivered the news to him? He showered your face in affection, praised you for making him the happiest man ever. Even thanked you for making one of his dreams come true.

-----

And when you found out another girl was on the way, you braced for impact.

At first, a deep part you thought that Miguel would act exactly like Samuel, and as much as it hurt you to think that way, some pains never truly left. They just remained dormant and buried away.

But again, nothing but love came your way. Miguel rambled to no end about the baby's room color, how Lily would be an amazing big sister and how she was also thrilled to have a sister.

He was excited. Not yelling. Miguel complimented your body changes and kissed your baby bump in every chance he had, not calling you a lazy fat ass.

He'd cook for you and even going to the extent of visiting the convenience store at wee hours of the night to have your cravings met, not telling you to shut the fuck up an let him sleep.

Miguel didn't allow you to stand too much time once your last trimester hit. He took charge of your home and kept it clean and comfortable for you, not insulting, yelling and accusing you for being exhausted and putting up excuses to have the house clean and his dinner ready.

Miguel was gentle and always praised you. He spent those times when you needed him buried into you, worshipping your body with such care and love before, during and after he was done pleasing you, not fucking the daylights out of you and leaving you to clean after yourself the mess he created, not caring at all if you were sore.

The sole idea of hitting you, terrified him, he confessed once, not amused him. Miguel didn't get off by taunting you with slurs like Sam did. He didn't had fun into competing for who screamed more before your voices gave out, like Sam did.

He accompanied you to every single doctor appointment and even bought you vitamins and supplements, not complained all the way home on how expensive everything was and how much you owed him for the appointment and medicines. If he bought you any.

Thank heavens Lily came perfectly healthy thanks to the vitamins your parents gave you.

And he definitely didn't hit you, dehumanized you and treated you poorly, like Samuel did.

You felt ashamed for even daring to do such comparison, but it was unavoidable. Not when everything you had know was chaos and this man offered you a complete opposite spectrum of a love you always dreamed off.

And when Gabriella was born, yours and his dream was finally complete. You got true and untampered love, and he got a family on his own, ready to show you the true meaning of such word.

[gilverrwrites]

Skinny Dipping

Pairing: Dean WInchester/F!Reader

Authors note: This has the been the hardest, and biggest of my re-mastered fics so far. I’m pretty sure the original was an amalgamation of imagines from supernaturalimagine and dirtysupernaturalimagines but I couldn’t even guess at which imagines exactly. This is like, my 4th public/semi-public fic in like 3 months, I’m starting to feel like this is a kink I didn’t know I had.  Also, Metallica have not cancelled anything, don’t worry. (and I don’t know jack about cars, people that do, please don’t come for me, I really did try, k, thanks, bye.) 💖

Plot: Reader is a mechanic who Dean's been checking in on, and checking out for a while now. Dean has the perfect excuse to see her after baby breaks down nearby.

Rating: M/18+

Words: 2936

Content: Swearing, consumption of alcohol, reckless drunken/tipsy behaviour, being submerged underwater, skinny dipping, teasing, brief retraining, size-difference, dry-humping, (or I guess wet-humping), semi-public sex, unprotected sex, p in v, water sex, mild angst.

Please remember: If you never try, you’ll never know.

You switch off the radio, listening to the purr of your car's ignition as you pull up behind a familiar black impala. It was a beauty, but it was nothing compared to your ‘70 boss. You watched as its owner climbed out of the front seat and headed towards you.

Its owner being your old friend Dean Winchester. He and his brother had saved you from a coven of witches a few years back, and ever since he’s been popping back into your life every few months. ‘Working on a case nearby’, ‘just passing through’, ‘baby needs a new compressor’. Every visit he laid the flirting on thicker. You weren’t sure if he was just joking around with you, or if he was serious, or if he saw you as a challenge. Either way you’d been making him work for it. Today it just so happened that his car had broken down a few miles out from your shop, the perfect excuse to see you on a Friday night.

You were pulled from your train of thought by a light tapping on your window. You snapped your head to the side to see Dean hovering over your door. His familiar smile set your heart racing. Okay, so maybe his seduction tactics were working, he was hot, who could blame you?

“Is there a problem, officer?” You joked, rolling down your window.

Dean rested an arm on the hood and leaned in. “No, no, just a routine check.” You knew he impersonated officers and agents all the time, but you hadn’t seen it firsthand. It was impressive how easily he slid into character.

“I am, however, gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle for a full strip search.”

Act ruined.

“At least buy me drink first.” You quipped.

“If you can help me, I’ll buy you a whole dinner.” He winked and opened the car door from the outside. You raised your brows at him but climbed out anyway before making a b-line for the impala’s engine.

“What’s wrong?” You directed your question to the car in the same tone you would address a small child or animal, gently rubbing a hand across its roof as you walked beside it. "Has someone been neglecting you?”

“Hey!” Dean barked, clearly offended. “I take better care of this baby than I do myself.”

At that you looked back over at him. He’d forgone his usual flannel today, leaving him in a pair of jeans that hugged him in all the right places and a grey t-shirt that clung tight and accentuated his broad chest. By the time your eyes reached his face, Dean was sporting a wicked grin, clearly ecstatic to have caught you checking him out. You avoid his smug gaze by popping the hood of his car to take a look at the engine.

“You weren’t kidding.” You whistled; Dean really was taking care of the thing.  The motor was almost gleaming. You felt his warm hand suddenly press against your lower back and turn to look up at him. The expression on his face could only be described as that of a proud father.

“Yeah.” He agreed before pointing to the main battery with his free hand: “This is the problem. It’s busted.”

“Ah, you’re gonna need a new one. I’m surprised you don’t keep a spare.” 

“Yeah.” To his credit, he looked pretty sheepish. “I normally do, but guess I forgot when the last one went out.”

“I don’t have one.” You said, pursing your lips to express your sympathies.

Dean didn’t respond, biting his lip while he waited for you to continue.

“But I could give you a jump start if you gotta head out soon.” You bring the hood back down and start heading to the boot of your car.

“No good,” Dean calls after you. “I’m not in a rush, but I don’t have enough gas to get me where I’m going.”

“Well… I’ve got a guy. He’s a few towns over. He’s closed at this time.” You inform as you open your boot and pull out your tow rope, flashing it to Dean with a smile. I can tow you into town for tonight, then drive you there and back in the morning.”

“I knew I could count on you!”

An hour later, you’d slowly but surely managed to drag Dean and his baby back into town, argued with him about him staying at a motel or on your couch (you’d won), and successfully swindled him into buying you that dinner he’d promised. Dinner being take-put pizza and over-priced ice-cream. Now, the two of you were sitting in your backyard, sharing the aforementioned ice-cream and an old bottle of Jack Daniels you’d pulled from the back of your cupboards. 

“So,” Dean began, his speech slurred by the spoon hanging from his mouth. How’s the garage doin’?”

You take a sip of the JD and proceed to suck on your teeth as you consider how to respond.

“Honestly, bad. Ever since that shitty corporate place set up shop down the road, we’ve been going downhill.” You punctuate your statement with another sip from the bottle before offering it to Dean. “I’m keeping it up and running by tooth and claw, but truthfully, it’s probably only got a few months left in it.” 

He gives you a sombre smile as he exchanges the tub of ice cream for the bottle. It's a touchy subject, but you can’t help admiring the way his neck moves as he tilts his head back to drink. You avert your eyes by scooping up the last bit of cold, sugary goodness and placing the empty container on the grass beside you.

“That sucks.” He places a hand on your shoulder, attempting to offer comfort. “That really sucks. Do you have a back-up plan?”

You grab the bottle back from Dean and take another sip before answering.

“I dunno. Sometimes I think about doing what you do. Kinda.” You begin. You don’t miss the way his entire body stiffens before you clarify. “Without the monsters. Just hit the road, get drunk at every bar in the country, visit Disney, become Metallica groupie, an-”

“You know they cancelled that tour, right?” Dean butts in.

“WHAT?” You shake his hand off and stare up at him in disbelief.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. The smile on his face is anything but sympathetic.

“Bastards.” You cross your arms and pout dramatically. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but the laugh that escapes Dean's lips is magical, and you can’t help but join in. When he returns his hand to your shoulder, this time reaching for the furthest from him, thus wrapping himself around you, your skin tingles, and you let yourself fall into him.

As the two of you slowly seize your giggling, Dean checks his watch. He quirks an evocative brow at you when he speaks, “It’s getting late. Maybe we should head inside?”

You mull it over, dramatically swaying your head from side to side before you voice your decision. “Actually, I have a better idea.”

You stand up, offering your hand to Dean, who eyes you sceptically. Nevertheless, he takes the bait, placing his hand in yours and allowing you to lead him toward the footpath just outside your garden.

“Where are you taking me?” he asks, and you can sense the caution in his voice. You assume it’s the hunter in him being paranoid, and you know for a fact that his free hand is hovering over the knife he keeps tucked into the back of his jeans at all times.

“I’m taking you here,” you answer as you pull him through the last set of trees and onto the shore of the local lake. You scan the surrounding area as you kick off your shoes. Satisfied that nobody is nearby, you start pulling off your trousers.

As you bend down to pull your socks off, you look up at Dean. He’s staring back at you intensely, mouth open, cheeks pink.

When you start pulling your top over your head you feel his fingers lightly brush against your hips. He’d stepped closer, and you’re tempted to touch him back or to reach up and kiss him. But you don’t. Instead, you throw your top over his head and sprint for the water.

“RACE YOU!” You challenge, discarding your bra and panties before you reach the water and forward dive in. Dean follows you moments later with a cannonball that splashes your face just as you’re resurfacing from your own dive.

“Fuck! That’s colder than I expected.” You yell to him.

“I’ll warm you up.” Dean replies as he swims close to you. You let his hands return to your hips, not expecting it when he dunks you back under the water.

You cough and splurge as he brings you back up. You flail your arms around until you find the top of his head, and you cling to him for dear life, but Deans is stronger, taller, and he’s found solid ground to plant his feet onto below the water. He escapes your grip and throws you under again.

“STOP. MERCY!” You yell when you come back up. This time, you use your legs for safety, wrapping them around his hips. You'd be safe if you could just get a grip on his arms. You’d been too distracted to notice his erection until you feel it poking at you. You’re about to make a comment about it, but Dean speaks first.

“You’re cute when you’re scared.” He laughs, you silence him with a swift but playful punch to the chest. In defence he grabs at your wrists, able to trap both in just one of his hands. His other hand slides up your arms, over your shoulder, your neck, until he reaches your cheek. He leisurely rubs his thumb against your wet skin.

You stay like that for a while, watching each other, before you finally ask, “Are you gonna kiss me or what?”

Without any further hesitation Dean lunges forward, forcing his lips against yours. His kiss is hard and animalistic; he skips straight past the pecking and teasing to roaming your mouth with his tongue. His fingers leave your cheek and weave into your hair, holding you against him, his stubble scratches against your skin.

In a play for dominance, you dart your own tongue out, grazing his chapped lips, but he denies you. Instead, he pulls away from your lips, refocusing his attention on nipping and kissing at your jaw, neck, and collarbone.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been imagining this.” He utters onto your skin.

“What, this exact scenario?” You joke.

“Not exactly.” He lets out a breathy chuckle, and the gust of air against your skin makes you tremble.

“Then what?” You challenge. Your inability to touch him is frustrating you. In an attempt to stimulate him back, you grip your legs around him tighter, using him as leverage to grind against him. The tip of his cock doesn’t quite reach your clit, but its added pressure helps it spread your lips. “Tell me.”

He drops his hand from your head, and cups it under your asscheek. Firmly guiding you up and down, assisting you in rutting against his cock. Shakey breaths become grunts, and after a few seconds he releases your wrists so that he can grip you with both hands. Free to move, you shimmy down his body until you can feel his dick brush against your clit with each grind.

“Come on, tell me.” You plead, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair, your grip tightening every time he hits your sweet spot. You know he's not shy, that he’s just getting lost in the feeling, and it pains you to say it, but eventually, you taunt. “I’m not gonna fuck you if you don’t tell me.”

He whimpers at your empty threat but finally confesses. “Just you. Your body, under me. Every night, I think about how you’d look, how you’d feel squirming, moaning my name.”

“Fuck. That’s hot.” You reply and he smiles as you plant your lips against his once again.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks, speech slurred as he tries to speak between kisses.

“Yes.” You respond instantly, pulling back to look him in the eye. “Please fuck me, Dean.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His grip on your ass is like a vice as he lifts you up slightly. You both work in sync to position yourselves just right until he lowers you onto his cock, slowly pressing into you. There’s some resistance as he stretches your walls, but the sound of his whispered praises helps you relax until he finally bottoms out, stretching you in all the right places.

“Fuck, that feels so good. You took me so well.” He affirms, and even though he’s already balls deep, you can’t help the heat that spreads across your face.

He begins lifting you again before you can respond, sliding you up and down his cock in slow, steady movements. You grip tight to his shoulders and hips with your hands and knees, using them as leverage points to help move your body up and down. Each thrush is slow and shallow, but Dean seems to be loving it; his head rolls back, and he releases breathy moans with every rock.

“Shit.” You shout, holding tighter still when Dean unexpectedly shifts below you, repositioning his legs to a sturdier position. You watch through hazy eyes as he reaches up and grips your hand, before guiding it down the tight space between your bodies. You get the message quickly, and begin rubbing your clit in lazy circles, keeping in time with the pace of Dean's cock.

The added stimulation had your toes curling in no time. When your pussy starts clenching around Dean’s cock, you see the sudden concentration in his face. His brow furrows, and he bites his lip as he focuses on riding you through your orgasm. The sight was the final push you need to take you over the edge.

“Fuck, Dean. Fuck fuck fuck, that feels good.” You cry out as you hit your climax.

“Keep saying my name, baby.” Dean begs as he continues rolling your hips together. You feel his body shake as he starts to struggle with your combined weights as he chases his own release.

You try to assist, desperately pumping yourself up and down despite the newfound sensitivity as you chant his name.

“Fuck, yes baby.” You feel the twitch of his cock inside you. He buries his head in the crook of your neck as he hits his orgasm, rutting his cock as deep as he can as he cums inside you. “oohhh yeah.”

You stay in position for a long time following, holding on tight to each other, listening to each other's breathing as you come back down, until Dean guides your body backwards so that you’re face to face again. “How you feelin’?”

“Good.” You reply with a smile.

“Good.” He grins at you mischievously before plunging backwards into the water, taking you with him.

“So, was that everything you imagined it to be?”

He purses his lips in thought before teasingly responding. “Eh, it wasn’t bad.”

You both laugh as you lay your head down on Dean's bare chest; his arms envelop your body as you both blankly look up at the stars. You play with the hem of the shirt you’d stolen from him when you emerged from the water and re-dressed.

“You should do it.” Dean says when you're both fully settled down.

“Do what?” You query, popping your head up to look at him, unsure what he’s talking about.

“Hit the road.” He clarifies, revisiting your earlier conversation. “I mean, life on the road isn’t easy or sustainable, trust me, I know.”

“But…” You prompt, knowing fully that he wasn’t going to stop there.

“But it could be fun for a while. If it’s what you wanna do. Hell, I’d totally be a roadie if… you know.”

“I know,” You reply. You’re smiling at him, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The reminder of your failing business stung, but you didn’t want it to spoil your night. You lean forward, caressing his cheek; his stubble feels rough against your fingers. You gently pull his face forward and plant a chaste kiss on his lips. “I might. I probably will. If it comes to it.”

“I can’t come with you.” He says when you lean away. You hadn’t expected him to want to come with you. Hoped, maybe? But you knew it wasn’t a possibility.

“I know.” You repeat.

He carefully reaches up to run his hand across your damp hair as he pulls you in for another kiss. This one is longer, softer than any you’d shared all night. When you’re done, he lets his head fall back against the ground, and you perch yourself against his chest once more. 

“You’ll still call me though, right?”

“Always.” He replies instantly. “You’re my best girl. Well, second-best girl.”

“The car?” You ask deadpan. Of course, the car is his number one.

“Who else?” He replies shamelessly.

You’re not sure how long you stayed like that, entwined in each other’s arms, spent and damp under the stars, until eventually, you feel your lids growing heavy. You fight it for a while, willing yourself to remain awake, until eventually your tiredness wins out. You cuddle closer into the warmth of Dean's chest as you fall asleep.

[dark-konohagakure2]

i’m so glad you’re back! your blog is like the only imagines blog i like 💖 could you write overprotective dad hashirama with his daughter? he barely lets her out of the house or do things by herself because she’s too precious to him, plus he always tells her she’s not capable of doing anything by herself so she needs him to control her and tell her what to do

tw: incest, parent/child, daughter complex, possessiveness, infantilization, isolation, grooming, mild misogyny, age difference, blowjobs

All characters depicted are 18+

Ever since his daughter was born, Hashirama understood his new purpose in life, not just to protect his village, but to keep his child safe from the world at all costs, Hashirama was obsessed with her from the moment she was born.

Right from the very beginning he's overprotective, only allowing himself and Mito to be around their daughter, and even then Hashirama still hogs her from her mother, sometimes even neglecting his work to spend time with his precious little princess.

At first Hashirama's intentions are purely innocent, at least as innocent as a possessive obsession with his own flesh and blood can be, but when she reaches adulthood, his feelings begin to change. There has always been an underlying desire for her in everything that he did, but now that she's a woman, those twisted desires are brought to the forefront.

By this time Hashirama will keep her inside nearly at all times, making sure she sticks to more proper, womanly duties, it's more appropriate for a girl like her to stay inside with her daddy all day, not going outside like some sort of rebellious tomboy.

"Dear, you know you can't go outside, it's far too dangerous. Why don't you try cooking something instead? That's a good, girl hobby."

He also has a tendency to treat her like a child despite her age, going almost every little thing for her, like cutting her food and tucking her in. If she calls him out on this incredibly strange behavior, he'll simply smile and tell her that he loves caring for his little girl.

He's always had thoughts about using her for his own pleasure, but Hashirama never even thought about acting on it until she reached maturity. He would spend many nights fisting his cock to thoughts of his own daughter, all while in bed right next to his sleeping wife.

When he can finally no longer control his dark urges, he'll convince his daughter to give him a blowjob. He can easily talk her into it, he's made himself the center of her entire universe since the day she as born, so convincing his good girl to give him head is very easy.

Hashirama praises her excessively throughout the entire act, holding her head gently and stoking her hair as he slowly thrusts into her mouth, taking care to make sure she doesn't gag or experience too much discomfort while he uses her for his own pleasure.

"A-Ah~ G-Good girl... You're making daddy feel so good, baby girl~ Daddy loves you very, very much..."

Hashirama loves his daughter more than anything, so that's exactly why he keeps her all to himself. She shouldn't worry herself with being a shinobi or an independent woman, she's better off being Daddy's girlfriend instead.

[trungles]

Cross-posting an essay I wrote for my Patreon since the post is free and open to the public.

Hello everyone! I hope you're relaxing as best you can this holiday season. I recently went to see Miyazaki's latest Ghibli movie, The Boy and the Heron, and I had some thoughts about it. If you're into art historical allusions and gently cranky opinions, please enjoy. I've attached a downloadable PDF in the Patreon post if you'd prefer to read it that way. Apologies for the formatting of the endnotes! Patreon's text posting does not allow for superscripts, which means all my notations are in awkward parentheses. Please note that this writing contains some mild spoilers for The Boy and the Heron.

Hayao Miyazaki’s 2023 feature animated film The Boy and the Heron reads as an extended meditation on grief and legacy. The Master of a grand tower seeks a descendant to carry on his maddening duty, balancing toy blocks of magical stone upon which the entire fabric of his little pocket of reality rests. The world’s foundations are frail and fleeting, and can pass away into the cold void of space should he neglect to maintain this task. The Master’s desire to pass the torch undergirds much of the film’s narrative.

(Isle of the Dead. Arnold Böcklin. 1880. Oil on Canvas. Kunstmuseum. Basel, Switzerland.)

Arnold Böcklin, a Swiss Symbolist(1) painter, was born on October 16 in 1827, the same year the Swiss Evangelical Reformed Church bought a plot of land in Florence from the Grand Duke of Tuscany, Leopold II, that had long been used for the burials of Protestants around Florence. It is colloquially known as The English Cemetery, so called because it was the resting place of many Anglophones and Protestants around Tuscany, and Böcklin frequented this cemetery—his workshop was adjacent and his infant daughter Maria was buried there. In 1880, he drew inspiration from the cemetery, a lone plot of Protestant land among a sea of Catholic graveyards, and began to paint what would be the first of six images entitled Isle of the Dead. An oil on canvas piece, it depicts a moody little island mausoleum crowned with a gently swaying grove of cypresses, a type of tree common in European cemeteries and some of which are referred to as arborvitae. A figure on a boat, presumably Charon, ferries a soul toward the island and away from the viewer.

(Photo of The English Cemetery in Florence. Samuli Lintula. 2006.)

The Isle of the Dead paintings varied slightly from version to version, with figures and names added and removed to suit the needs of the time or the commissioner. The painting was glowingly referenced and remained fairly popular throughout the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The painting used to be inescapable in much of European popular culture. Professor Okulicz-Kozaryn, a philologist (someone with a deep interest in the ways language and cultural canons evolve)(2) observed that the painting, like many other works in its time, was itself iterative and became widely reiterated and referenced among its contemporaries. It became something like Romantic kitsch in the eyes of modern art critics, overwrought and excessively Byronic. I imagine Miyazaki might also resent a work of that level of manufactured ubiquity, as Miyazaki famously held Disney animated films in contempt (3). Miyazaki’s films are popularly aspirational to young animators and cartoonists, but gestures at imitation typically fall well short, often reducing Miyazaki’s weighty films to kitschy images of saccharine vibes and a lazy indulgence in a sort of empty magical domestic coziness. Being trapped in a realm of rote sentiment by an uncritical, unthoughtful viewership is its own Isle of Death.

(Still from The Boy and the Heron, 2023. Studio Ghibli.)

The Boy and the Heron follows a familiar narrative arc to many of Miyazaki’s other films: a child must journey through a magical and quietly menacing world in order to rescue their loved ones. This arc is an echo of Satsuki’s journey to find Mei in My Neighbor Totoro (1988) and Chihiro’s journey to rescue her parents Spirited Away (2001). To better understand Miyazaki’s fixation with this particular character journey, it can be instructive to watch Lev Atamanov’s 1957 animated film, The Snow Queen (4)(5), a beautifully realized take on Hans Christian Andersen’s 1844 children’s story (6)(7). Mahito’s journey continues in this tradition, as the boy travels into a painted world to rescue his new stepmother from a mysterious tower.

Throughout the film, Miyazaki visually references Isle of the Dead. Transported to a surreal world, Mahito initially awakens on a little green island with a gated mausoleum crowned with cypress trees. He is accosted by hungry pelicans before being rescued by a fisherwoman named Kiriko. After a day of catching and gutting fish, Mahito wakes up under the fisherwoman’s dining table, surrounded by kokeshi—little wooden dolls—in the shapes of the old women who run Mahito’s family’s rural household. Mahito is told they must not be touched, as the kokeshi are wards set up for his protection. There is a popular urban legend associated with the kokeshi wherein they act as stand-ins for victims of infanticide, though there seems to be very little available writing to support this legend. Still, it’s a neat little trick that Miyazaki pulls, placing a stray reference to a local legend of unverifiable provenance that persists in the popular imagination, like the effect of fairy stories passed on through oral retellings, continually remolded each new iteration.

(Still from The Boy and the Heron, 2023. Studio Ghibli.)

Kiriko’s job in this strange landscape is to catch fish to nourish unborn spirits, the adorable floating warawara, before they can attempt to ascend on a journey into the world of the living. Their journey is thwarted by flocks of supernatural pelicans, who swarm the warawara and devour them. This seems to nod to the association of pelicans with death in mythologies around the world, especially in relationship to children (8). Miyazaki’s pelicans contemplate the passing of their generations as each successive generation seems to regress, their capacity to fulfill their roles steadily diminishing.

(Still from The Boy and the Heron, 2023. Studio Ghibli.)

As Mahito’s adventure continues, we find the landscapes changing away from Böcklin’s Isle of the Dead into more familiar Ghibli territories as we start to see spaces inspired by one of Studio Ghibli’s aesthetic mainstays, Naohisa Inoue and his explorations of the fantasy realms of Iblard. He might be most familiar to Ghibli enthusiasts as the background artists for the more fantastical elements of Whisper of the Heart (1995).

(Naohisa Inoue, for Iblard Jikan, 2007. Studio Ghibli.)

By the time we arrive at the climax of The Boy and the Heron, the fantasy island environment starts to resemble English takes on Italian gardens, the likes of which captivated illustrators and commercial artists of the early 20th century such as Maxfield Parrish. This appears to be a return to one of Böcklin’s later paintings, The Island of Life (1888), a somewhat tongue-in-cheek reaction to the overwhelming presence of Isle of the Dead in his life and career. The Island of Life depicts a little spot of land amid an ocean very like the one on which Isle of the Dead’s somber mausoleum is depicted, except this time the figures are lively and engaged with each other, the vegetation lush and colorful, replete with pink flowers and palm fronds.

(Island of Life. Arnold Böcklin. Oil on canvas. 1888. Kunstmuseum. Basel, Switzerland.)

In 2022, Russia’s State Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg acquired the sixth and final Isle of the Dead painting. In the last year of his life, Arnold Böcklin would paint this image in collaboration with his son Carlo Böcklin, himself an artist and an architect. Arnold Böcklin spent three years painting the same image three times over at the site of his infant daughter’s grave, trapped on the Isle of the Dead. By the time of his death in 1901 at age 74, Böcklin would be survived by only five of his fourteen children. That the final Isle of the Dead painting would be a collaboration between father and son seemed a little ironic considering Hayao Miyazaki’s reticence in passing on his own legacy. Like the old Master in The Boy and the Heron, Miyazaki finds himself with no true successors.

The Master of the Tower's beautiful islands of painted glass fade into nothing as Mahito, his only worthy descendant, departs to live his own life, fulfilling the thesis of Genzaburo Yoshino’s 1937 book How Do You Live?, published three years after Carlo Böcklin’s death. In evoking Yoshino and Böcklin’s works, Hayao Miyazaki’s The Boy and the Heron suggests that, like his character the Master, Miyazaki himself must make peace with the notion that he has no heirs to his legacy, and that those whom he wished to follow in his footsteps might be best served by finding their own paths.

(Isle of the Dead. Arnold and Carlo Böcklin. Oil on canvas. 1901. The State Hermitage Museum. Saint Petersburg, Russia.)

INFORMAL ENDNOTES

1 - Symbolists are sort of tough to nail down. They were started as a literary movement to 1 distinguish themselves from the Decadents, but their manifesto was so vague that critics and academics fight about it to this day. The long and the short of it is that the Symbolists made generous use of a lot of metaphorical imagery in their work. They borrow a lot of icons from antiquity, echo the moody aesthetics from the Romantics, maintained an emphasis on figurative imagery more so than the Surrealists, and were only slightly more technically married to the trappings of traditionalist academic painters than Modernists and Impressionists. They're extremely vibes-forward.

2 - Okulicz-Kozaryn, Radosław. Predilection of Modernism for Variations. Ciulionis' Serenity among Different Developments of the Theme of Toteninsel. ACTA Academiae Artium Vilnensis 59. 2010. The article is incredibly cranky and very funny to read in parts. Contains a lot of observations I found to be helpful in placing Isle of the Dead within its context.

3 - "From my perspective, even if they are lightweight in nature, the more popular and common films still must be filled with a purity of emotion. There are few barriers to entry into these films-they will invite anyone in but the barriers to exit must be high and purifying. Films must also not be produced out of idle nervousness or boredom, or be used to recognise, emphasise, or amplify vulgarity. And in that context, I must say that I hate Disney's works. The barrier to both the entry and exit of Disney films is too low and too wide. To me, they show nothing but contempt for the audience." from Miyazaki's own writing in his collection of essays, Starting Point, published in 2014 from VIZ Media.

4 - You can watch the movie here in its original Russian with English closed captions here.

5 If you want to learn more about the making of Atamanoy's The Snow Queen, Animation Obsessive wrote a neat little article about it. It's a good overview, though I have to gently disagree with some of its conclusions about the irony of Miyazaki hating Disney and loving Snow Queen, which draws inspiration from Bambi. Feature film animation as we know it hadonly been around a few decades by 1957, and I find it specious, particularly as a comic artistand author, to see someone conflating an entire form with the character of its content, especially in the relative infancy of the form. But that's just one hot take. The rest of the essay is lovely.

6 - Miyazaki loves this movie. He blurbed it in a Japanese re-release of it in 2007.

7 - Julia Alekseyeva interprets Princess Mononoke as an iteration of Atamanov's The Snow Queen, arguing that San, the wolf princess, is Miyazaki's homage to Atamanoy's little robber girl character.

8 - Hart, George. The Routledge Dictionary of Egyptian Gods And Goddesses. Routledge Dictionaries. Abingdon, United Kingdom: Routledge. 2005.

[steviewashere]

The Great Cornholio

Rating: General CW: Implied/Referenced Animal Abandonment, Implied/Referenced Animal Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abandonment, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Mild Angst, Fluff, Steve Harrington is Impulsive, Steve Harrington is a Little Shit, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Soft Steve Harrington, Soft Eddie Munson, Adopting a Dog, Beavis and Butthead Reference, Cornholio the Dog, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Domestic Steddie, Domestic Fluff

🐕—————🐕 There’s a disrupting clatter of noise coming from the front door of their apartment. Eddie stops immediately what he’s been doing in the kitchen—wiping down counters and putting away the dry dishes from the rack—and listens in. Shushing. Scraping? And then…a whine.

“Steve?” He calls out.

All of the sounds immediately stop. Unnervingly so.

“Uh…Steve, you alright?” He calls out again. “You didn’t get into another fight again, did you? I think we’re out of rubbing alcohol, so it’ll be a bitch to disinfect any wounds you got.”

Subtle shuffling comes closer to the open doorway of the kitchen. Eddie turns to look. Steve’s standing in his work clothes, vest over his polo, jeans straight down his legs, shoes still laced. He’s flushed bright red. Nervously fiddling with his fingers. He shifts from foot to foot and peers up at Eddie through his eyelashes. Mirth glints at him.

“What’d you do,” Eddie sighs.

Steve smiles at him. All his teeth. Squinting his eyes so hard, they nearly look closed. “I got us something,” he giddily states, “you’re going to love it.”

Eddie gestures for him to get whatever this thing is. And waits, dish gloves up to his elbows, barefoot and in his pajamas, half-tired, not showered. He had a day off from work, the automotive shop around the corner, so what if he does chores and nothing else? But he’s especially exhausted. Just wants to relax. And knows, whatever Steve’s done, will tarnish all of that.

A couple minutes later, Steve comes back towards the kitchen. Vest gone, shoes off. Hands behind his back. Squirming left and right as his grip subtly—or not so subtly—changes. Slowly, carefully, he reveals the contents of his hands. And staring back at Eddie is a dog.

It’s a smaller breed—whatever breed it is. Soft looking, white fur. Ears that fold over like airplane wings. Big, brown, bug-like eyes. Pink nose, straight tail, short legs, and six toes on the front left foot. The dog’s cute, Eddie can objectively notice. It doesn’t mind being held, considering how Steve’s holding it close to his belly like it’s a toddler. And it’s not barking at him, like most dogs do the first time they’re introduced to him. This one’s rather mellow. Very relaxed. Though, that may just be from nerves.

“I got a dog,” Steve says. His voice goes a little high with his happiness. Smile bright and big and unmistakeable. Eyes excited and warm.

Eddie already knows he won’t turn this away.

“I can see that,” he states. “Is it our dog or—“

“His name is Cornholio. Like in Beavis and Butthead. And I’ve got all the supplies in the trunk,” Steve begins explaining, barreling over Eddie’s question. Okay, so it’s definitely ours, Eddie notes. “Cornholio here is housebroken. He knows how to sit and lay down. He’ll be sleeping with us in bed, I’m not making him lay in a dog bed by himself. And I’m going to buy him his own turkey to eat for dinner. And—“

“Wait, wait, wait,” Eddie interrupts. Immediately, Steve stops talking. And his smile fades. Looking more like…Well, it’s in bad taste, but he looks like a kicked puppy. The longer Eddie takes to collect himself, though, Steve appears as if his entire family has been slaughtered in front of his eyes. Eddie rubs a, now gloveless, hand between his eyebrows. “We didn’t talk about getting a dog? What led you to do this? How much did he cost? Have you factored in the possibility that either of us could be allergic?” Calm down, he scolds himself. He takes a quick, steadying breath. “I’m not…We can keep the dog, Stevie. But I—I’m not prepared for a dog.”

Steve cradles the dog closer to himself. Looks down at the top of his head and kisses the fur between his ears. Cornholio looks up with his big brown eyes, his tail wags as much as it can where Steve’s holding him, and he licks the underside of Steve’s jaw. “I just thought it would be nice to have a little buddy around,” he murmurs lowly, a little sad. “There was an ad for the humane society in the newspaper this morning and I thought, y’know, what if I looked after work? Just for the shits and giggles of it, but then I saw him. 

“And he’d been there for three years. He used to be left alone at his old house for weeks on end. Just left with scraps and the bag of dog food. Whatever he could find. He was lonely and sad and…Somebody finally called for him to be taken in.” Steve shrugs as much as he can with the weight of the dog between his arms. Looks up to Eddie, his eyes just as big as Cornholio’s, wet and tired. Meekly, he adds, “He made me think of myself. When…When my parents would just leave me all alone.”

Oh, Eddie thinks. His chest feels heavier. Head foggier. Eyes stinging.

“And you wanted to give him a better chance than what you had,” Eddie says, though he meant it like a question. It comes out a little breathy, too much of a realization to be anything more than that. Steve nods slowly, gently.

“He was only $50. I’ll return him if it’s a prob—“

“No, no,” Eddie rushes. He forces himself to move forward. Stand close and in Steve’s space. He peers down at the top of Cornholio’s little head, his tantalizingly soft fur. So, he scratches his nails over the baby’s scalp. He peers up at Steve again. At his impossibly sadder eyes, just a second away from bursting into tears. His free hand comes up and cups Steve’s left cheek. Thumb gently swiping over his cheekbone. “I think that you picked a good one, sweetheart. This baby’s adorable,” he coos. “Look, he’s even got my eyes.”

Steve scoffs. “Your eyes? He’s my son!”

Eddie hums. “Actually, he’s our son,” he murmurs. Smiles small to himself at the way Steve preens at those words. “And his name is Cornholio, like in Beavis and Butthead. And he’s going to eat turkey with us every night. And he can sleep between us in bed to ward off our nightmares, yeah?”

“Really? You’re not mad?”

He shrugs. “No, maybe just a little scrambled. But…I’m also an impulsive person, so this matters none.” Cornholio’s fur is incredibly soft under his hand. And he looks up at the two of them with all the gentleness in the world. And, maybe, Eddie thinks he could die happy here and now.

Steve leans in a little closer. Rests his cheek on Eddie’s shoulder as they both peer down at the little white dog. “Huh,” he mutters, “I guess he does have your eyes.”

“See?” Eddie asks softly, grinning. “Match made in heaven. How about we take him on a walk? Show him our picnic spot?”

Abruptly, Steve gasps. “Oh my gosh!” He crows, “We can take him on our picnics with us! And he can meet all the dogs at the park! And he can lay in our laps! And—“

Chuckling, Eddie swipes a soothing hand down Steve’s back. He’s bouncing in place, probably five seconds away from lift-off into the ceiling. He kisses Steve’s temple. Murmurs, “I’ll make some sandwiches, alright? Go get his collar and leash.”

Steve positively squeals.

And Eddie was right. This does ruin the plans he had on his day off, but he figures this is better. Way better than anything he could’ve done for himself. There was no way he was going to turn down the opportunity to see his boy happy.

🐕—————🐕

[dishonestlies-if]

(Dis)honest Lies

Demo: TBA || About The Archivists Age Rating: 16+ CW: Violence, death, child endangerment, child death/descriptions of child death, classism, manipulation, forced isolation/confinement (technically?), parental neglect, mild homophobia RO-specific CWs (contains spoilers): here

The king is dead, cries the crowd of mourners that line the path towards the Royal Tombs. As you walk down behind your father's coffin, you note that there are no commoners among them. Not surprising, given they are not allowed to entire the palace grounds, though you wonder if anyone beyond these walls are mourning with you. Your father was a much-beloved king, but no one beyond the Court had ever met him - or you, for that matter, or any of your predecessors since the Curse took effect. You wonder briefly what the outside world is like - the Advisors describe it as a beautiful place of wonder and innovation, at least in the capital. Perhaps the people are holding their own ceremony out there, in honour of your father.

You turn your attention back to the procession. There will be time to ponder this later.

You have a speech to give, a coronation to attend, a kingdom to rule.

There is no place for such pointless thoughts. You were born in this palace, and in this palace will you die. You will never see the outside world.

Will you?

Play as the newly crowned monarch of Batrinoa! Bring your kingdom to new heights, or send it plummeting into chaos - the choice is yours, and yours alone. After all, you are the monarch - who would dare defy your authority?

Customize the MC Veridas (27) (name changeable); gender, appearance, personality, etc!

Be swept off your feet by five potential love interests (gender selectable) - or don't! You can be swept off your feet by friends, too. And enemies. But that might be a bad idea.

Ally with your neighbours, or start a war - Batrinoa is powerful, why not utilize your military and expand your territory?

Solve problems that arise in your nation, or make them worse - where there's money to be had, who really cares if a few peasants die?

Face crushing moral dilemmas that make you question your reality!

Find the truth behind the web of lies that surround the Court - there are many hidden secrets, and if you look in the right places, you might find them. Assuming, of course, that they don't kill you first.

And why in the name of the Divine do you keep seeing the Archivist-in-training in your dreams?! You barely even know her!

Love Interests

The Guard Caelum/Celestine/Calytrix Hildebrand (28) is the fourth child of the Hildebrand family, your best friend and confidant, and godparent of your daughter. As children, you were inseparable, and even when C was in the army you kept in touch. Now they serve as your loyal guard - wherever you go, they will follow. It is their duty, after all; what the monarch wants, the monarch will get, nevermind how they feel about it. So long as it makes you happy, there is little they won't do to achieve it.

The Silver-Tongued Minister Elias/Elora/Elwyn Alinac (29) is Head of the House of Alinac, one of the Four Great Families and a member of the Advisors. They are, without a doubt, the Court's most charming noble. Intelligent and quick-witted, Batrinoa's Director of Foreign Affairs is well-versed in the art of communication, especially when it pertains to getting what they want. There are flocks of men and women alike who would kill to hold E's attention for even a fraction of a second. Fortunate, then, that they only seem to have eyes for you.

The Unapproachable Advisor Orpheus/Odette/Odilon Marchand (26) is Head of the House of Marchand, one of the Four Great Families and a member of the Advisors. O is rather unpopular with the nobility and common folk alike; their blunt speech, cold demeanour, and prickly personality make for rather unpleasant company, though none can deny their skill as Batrinoa's newest Minister of Finance. They maintain a professional distance from everyone around them, but perhaps you can close that gap - surely it must be a lonely existence, to hold everyone at arm's length as they do.

The Revolutionary Mervyn/Maira/Maverick (27) is a commoner of Batrinoa, a tailor who lives with their mother and three siblings near the slums of the capital. Passionate and rebellious, they abhor the monarchy and how the nation is run, and everyone knows it; M is an outspoken critic of the throne, and far from the only one. As the new monarch, you are the very pinnacle of everything they despise - can you show them that you are willing to do what your predecessors would not, or will you just add fuel to the fire?

The Flirtatious Informant Legacy (29) is the best informant in your employ (and the best assassin). They once swore loyalty to your father; now, they serve you. They're a shameless flirt, and never serious - about anything, really, not even their own life. You've asked where they came from, but you've received 14 different back stories at this point and you're not sure they're even capable of telling the truth if it doesn't pertain to their job. You wonder how Legacy ended up in this employ; surely this is not a job most would willingly choose to pursue?

Other Characters

Alix Morozov - your late spouse, the other biological parent of your daughter, and a relative of Drelix's King Vsevolod. They died three years ago, leaving you a single parent. Your marriage was for two reasons only - to end the war between your kingdoms, and to produce a precautionary heir for the Batrinoa line. Having succeeded in both, you considered them a good person and a dear friend, though there was never any love in your relationship.

Luminosa 'Lumi' Batrinoa (5) - your daughter from your marriage with Alix. Now that you are monarch, she is heir to the throne; a lofty title that may be, though it paints a massive target on her back. You can only hope you will not need to arrange a political marriage for her.

Beau Marchand (32) - the disgraced son of the Marchand family, his reputation for debauchery and excess is known far and wide throughout the capital. You remember him vaguely, having interacted with him as a child, though you haven't seen him since he was disowned thirteen years ago. O has since restored Beau to the family, but you have yet to see him return.

Dolion (53) - the Archivist, sometimes called the Secret-Keeper. One of the Blessed, his Miracle naturally makes people rather wary of him, and his sour demeanor does nothing to help his case. At the very least, none of the Advisors seem to like him, though you're fairly certain that's more because he was born a commoner rather than a child of the nobility.

Fialova Solanaceae (20) - Dolion's successor, the current Archivist-in-training. Timid and shy, she seems to dodge you at every opportunity, though you often catch her staring as if she has something she'd like to say. There's more to her than meets the eye, but are you brave enough to seek out the skeletons in her closet?

Helianthus Solanaceae (54) - Head of the House of Solanacaea, one of the Four Great Families and a member of the Advisors. She is the supreme judge of Batrinoa's legal system and handles all legal affairs within the kingdom's borders. As your godmother, she cares greatly for your well-being. She would happily spoil Luminosa rotten if you didn't stop her in time.

Volker Hildebrand (61) - Head of the House of Hildebrand, one of the Four Great Families and a member of the Advisors. Arrogant and conceited, he takes great pride in being the Minister of War. Objectively the most powerful member of the Council, he has the nation's military at his beck and call and takes great joy in lording over the other Advisors. The Court has no great love for him, though none can deny that it was thanks to him that the war with Drelix went as well as it did. Though he has little interest in anything besides battle and bloodshed, he has returned to the capital for your coronation and to assist you in acclimating to your new position.

[nrdmssgs]

Soap comforting reader

Masterlist Comforting series: König comforting reader Price comforting reader

AN: I've got requested for something a bit similar for König and decided to make a series. There will be different traumas, CoD boys help us all overcome. (Königs version coming soon)

Here Johnny helps the reader deal with her neglectful family. I kept everything mild, so no TWs here really.

You are nervous about that family gathering. Of course, it's Johnny, you'll follow him anywhere, but a mere thought of a full family gathering in one house… 

Someone will not like your clothes, someone will criticize your career, someone will quarrel with you because of politics... And at some point there will be ‘THE talk’ about children and grandchildren, and you will choke in guilt and shame.

No, you never met Johnnys relatives before. But you knew well, how is it usually going: “Hi guys, look, whom I found, please like her as I do”. And then the show starts.

It didn't help as well, that your own family gatherings often ended with you gagging on your tears in the bathroom, pretending, you were just washing hands.

“Hen? You nervous? We can always pull off the road, so you can take a breather.” Johnny puts his hand on your knee and gives you a beaming smile.

"No, no, I don't want to be late. Your sister wrote that she was already there."

He stops on the next parking lot nevertheless. “If she is already there - it means, my parents are already entertained enough by her kids. Come on, lets walk.” And before you could react, Johnny drags you out of the car, takes your hand and leads you in a field beside a parking lot.

It helps, but by the time you two step inside his parents house, you feel your pulse drop once again. 

“I'm so happy to finally meet you!”, “Johnny, what took you so long to bring her here? Oh, you've been dating for not that long? What took you so long to find her then?!”, “He is so lucky to have you!”

Yes, they don't just quietly accept you - they absolutely shower you in love. You usually don't hear that many nice words, even on your birthday.

And they are all fantastic people: they are kind, open-hearted, love a good joke. You feel like you could talk to them forever. 

You see, what it takes to raise such a treasure like Johnny: he has mothers eyes and fathers voice, he shares his bubbly personality with his sister. 

His family still has their little heartwarming rituals, when they call their son to lick the spoon after mixing cookie dough. Only now Johnny picks up his nephew and gives him the spoon. Or when they all gather together on the terrace after dinner, lay out blankets and pillows on the plank floor and make themselves comfortable with mugs of tea.

Johnny sits with a notebook in his hands and sketches something, his sister stealthily peeps over his shoulder, then glances at you and smiles. You are stolen by his nephew to build a pillow fort.

Before you go to bed, you help his parents clean up. His mom walks over to you while you're wiping down the big dish and hugs you. "Thank you for letting him into your life. Johnny has always been a sweet, cheerful child, but It`s the first I see my boy literally glowing with happiness."

Although normally, you wouldn't like being touched by someone you've just met - this time you don't mind. In fact you even find yourself enjoying this little warm moment.

Later that night, sitting on the edge of bed in Johnnys childhood room, you ask yourself if this is what a family feels like. Or maybe MacTavishes were just an ideal family and in fact it was ok to cry at every family gathering, to avoid texting and calling your parents more than once a week. Maybe everyone didn`t share their feelings with parents and siblings, just like you? And there were rare exceptions to the rule here and there, and you just met one?

You didn't even hear Johnny entering the room and coming closer.

“Heeeey, what's with the wet eyes? Anyone let you down?” He slowly lowers himself to the floor and puts his head in your lap. "Wait, or did I say something stupid? That joke about my next deployment is just a joke, I swear!”

You smile and wipe away tears hastily. “No-no! Nobody let me down. Its just your family… You are all so good to me and to each other.”

Johnny lets you go on with the thought, asking questions and encouraging. He has long noticed that your relationship with your family is not like his, but he has never commented on this before.

"I know it's stupid, but... I didn't want to go to bed, just to spend more time with them. I wanted to remember how a family can feel. And now I'm afraid that in a week I'll forget this feeling... Sorry, I must sound like an edgy teenager right now."

He pulls your torso in a firm hug, not raising from the floor. “They… We all are your family, if you want us to. They love you, bonnie. You know, how many times they asked me to finally bring the woman who makes me smile constantly to our family house? How long have they all wanted to meet you? You know, how many times they pulled me in some corner today just to ask when am I going to wife you up?”

You frown. “Oh no…” “Oh yes, sweets. They are rooting for us.” “Wait, that's bad, that's really bad…” “How is that bad?” “I like them so much, I want them to be happy, and if you have second thoughts, if you decide, I'm not worth it, they'll all hate me for not being that girl, for wasting your time, for not being good enough…”

The speed with which you find yourself knocked over on the bed and his hands holding you tight against his chest is beyond any belief. You are cut out mid-sentence.

“Breathe in…” His hand moves to your spine and traces a long line up to you neck. “... and out.” His fingers now travel down your back.

Johnny repeats it a few times and when he feels your pulse steadying, he finally speaks. “There are and will be no second thoughts. Happy or not - you're stuck with me, sweets. I may joke around other matters, but I am dead serious with this. You are the one. For me, which also means - for them. I know it, they know it. You are welcome here, you are loved, you are so much awaited. They are part of me, so they always come with me, if you choose to have me.”

As he speaks, you feel his breath tingling back of your head and his fingers drowning in your hair. This all feels surreal, but you want to believe him. They are slowly becoming your family. Your home. 

[insomniakisses]

Reader comforting aegon cuz he's just so broken after the treatment he's been through 🤠

A Lovers Comfort

Character: Aegon Targaryen (HOTD)

Warnings/Notes: mentions of parental neglect/abuse, Viserys slander, mild Alicent slander (i love her tho), soft hubby Aegon, your Rhaenyra's daughter (you can chose adopted or not), war doesnt happen, aemond still looses his eye.

When you where first told you where to marry Aegon you were worried to say the least. Having heard many stories from your brothers and mother, not to mention the not so fond memories of him when you were all kids. But it had been years now, surely he had matured into a man? Perhaps he hadn't with the outrage you could see of your mother's face, your whole family's faces.

Yes, your mother had long ago proposed Jace marry Helaena, to solidify the bonds between the greens and blacks. But to her this? This was different. You were her baby, her only girl and she couldn't let them take you from her. Make you bare his children. No she had to stop this.

Which led to now, all of you on dragon back heading to kingslanding. Your mother and Daemon leading on Syrax and Caraxes, while you and your brothers followed. Being greeted by the king and queen upon landing you remained silent as you were all led inside.

There you watched as your mother and Daemon enter the council meetings room along with the king and Alicent, Your brothers being sent to the training grounds and Aemond accompanying his wife, Helaena back to their chambers with a soft nod to you. Leaving you alone with a half drunken Aegon.

"You don't want me." he laughs, deeply amused at the scrunch of you face when he slumps in the seat next to you. "You've never liked me, no one does"

Rolling your eyes you take the wine from his hand, pushing him back in his seat. "Your family likes you Aegon, your mother, surely" your voice is short, seemingly bored of his presence already. Not something he's unused to.

"No.. They don't like me" It comes out soft, and barely audible but you hear him. It makes you turn slightly, staring at him unsure of how to proceed. Your heart aches and you find yourself reaching for his hands, the action makes him look up unshed tears filling his eyes.

"Father does not care for me, us. he spent so long wanting sons and dreamers yet now he finds himself with two songs and a dreamer in my sister and he still views your mother as his only child." You wince at that, sure you had seen it growing up you weren't blind to the kings dismissal of his children or fondness of your mother. you had no idea just how little he cared.

"Your mother must love you though, i've seen her with Aemond she seems rather loving?" Your carful with your words not wanting to offend your prince its his laugh that startles you. "I am no son of hers, she made that clear after aemond lost his eye. He and Helaena are all that she cares for. I'm just her drunken, ungrateful son."

You understand him now, understand his anger, his drinking. He's hurt and lost and crying out for help when no ones bothered to listen. You feel yourself move towards him, unsure why, you pull him into a hug.

He nuzzles his head into your neck and releases a breath he didn't know he was holding, letting his eyes close and his body relax in your hold. "I'll marry you." his head shoots up at your words, confused as to why you would give your life to him. "But, reduce the drinking. You don't have to stop, just drink less okay?"

"Okay." He smiles then, a true genuine smile and you lean down to press a soft kiss to his nose laughing when he scrunches up his face in protest. "Good. I'll hold you to that."

Feeling him hum against you, you move to run your hands through his hair. "Ser Christen, please in form my mother and the rest of the council that the meeting need not proceed as Aegon and I are accepting the terms of our betrothal."

"Of course Princess."

Should this be a series?

[gabessquishytum]

out of all of night and time’s children, dream is the only omega. so when he presents (as a late bloomer of course) they have absolutely no idea what to do with him. they’re obviously on the more neglectful side, too, so they just sort of leave him be and hope he figures it out for himself. their neighbor, hob, who’s older and has an adult son of his own, overheard night gossiping about how clueless she is over her only omega child, and made sure to let her know that, hey, he’s got an omega kid too! he was a single dad for a long time before robyn left the nest, but he still remembers how to care for an omega child. night and time can totally send dream over to hobs house to be “taken care of,” he has the experience! it’s definitely not a ploy for a pervy older man to get his hands on a clueless virgin omega….definitely not

Oh I can't help myself, I do love pervy Hob.

Just imagine poor little Dream showing up at Hob’s place with his little bag of clothes and books, not really knowing why or how long he'll be staying. Hob welcomes him in so warmly, Dream almost immediately lets go of some tension. Ever since he presented, he's been stressed the whole time. But Hob’s pleasant scent and comfy home finally encourage him to relax. Hob has the guest room all set up with the things that an omega might want or need - plenty of good nesting material, snacks, hygiene products. Even a small selection of toys, which Dream doesn't even recognise at first. Hob chuckles and says that he doesn't have to use them, but it never hurts to find out what feels good! Dream is suddenly so grateful - Hob is just looking out for him! It's sweet!

And Hob continues to be nothing but sweet. He cooks delicious meals, giving Dream lessons about nutrition for omegas. Best of all he always lets Dream cuddle up to him. He never discourages physical contact - he says that it's very important for omegas to have a lot of touch. Dream never got that at home. He's so touch starved he hardly ever leaves Hob alone, except at bedtime... and that's only because Dream wants to sneak to his room and experiment with his toys. Hob explained omega anatomy to him after he'd settled in, and now Dream has a craving for all the things Hob spoke about... he spends all night with his fake knot inside him, but he's sure that the real thing would be better.

Dream is on meds to suppress his heat cycle, but he still feels so sick and needy as he body enters pre-heat. He's been with Hob for a few weeks, and he's already obsessed with the older alpha. How could he not be, when Hob has basically laid the foundations of a bond between them? So it makes sense for Dream to slip into Hob’s bed and rub up against him, seeking comfort and love.

Oh, Hob takes such good care of his precious little omega as he experiences his mild heat symptoms. Hob lets him stay in bed for days, bringing him all his meals and even bathing him. And best of all Hob keeps him happy with fingers pressed deep in his slick hole, making him cum over and over. Dream is utterly blissed out and totally besotted with Hob, bless him. He even begs for a knot. But Hob won't give it to him.

Not until Dream is off his meds and gets a proper heat. Not until they're officially mated. And let's face it, Dream’s parents aren't going to say no, especially since Hob hasn't taken advantage of their omega son. He's still technically a sweet little virgin after all. And he'll just have to wait a little bit longer.

It's all going to be so worth it, Hob promises.

[norahastuff]

There’s a lot to like about The Winchesters, but I think one of the reasons it hits so hard for me is that it solves my biggest problem with the finale. Personally, I don’t have a problem with tragic endings. The season 5 finale of Spn has a tragic ending, and I think it’s a wonderful feat of storytelling. Aside from the fact that 15x20 tried to pretend it wasn’t tragic and tried to make it seem like Sam and Dean standing alone on a bridge in Heaven was a happy ending, what I hated most about the finale was they had to flatten Dean into a two-dimensional caricature of himself to do it. Aside from maybe the revelation that Dean stood outside Sam’s apartment at Stanford for hours trying to psych himself up to go in because he was nervous Sam would turn him away, there was no moment in the episode that Dean felt like the complex, nuanced character we had come to know and love over the past 15 seasons. He had no desires or characterisation beyond pie, car and Sammy. There was no sign of all the growth we’ve seen from him, no hint of his own needs, wants or sense of self. I mean, he wasn’t even allowed to interact with his own heaven before Sam showed up. Even after his death, he was never allowed to have anything that was just his. 

Look, I’ve said all this a hundred times before – if you look at my 15x20 tag, it’s basically just this sentiment repeated over and over again – so why am I saying it again now? Well, because The Winchesters is fixing that. The mission Dean is on is all his. It’s not about Sam, or pie or whatever surface level bullshit that finale tried to boil Dean down to. He’s going back to the past, he’s meddling in something insane because he sees value in it, and in the process going on a journey to understand himself better. His narration makes it pretty clear that through this quest he’s learning to contextualise his own life and feelings better. The past presents the future, after all (full disclosure, that’s an Ugly Betty episode title that I just really loved and use far too often in casual conversation), and one of the biggest hang ups in Dean’s life was that he was given this mythologised version of events and expected to believe them. Mary was this perfect saintly mother who sat at home baking cookies all day before she was brutally, and through no fault of her own, ripped away from them. John was the perfect mild-mannered husband and father who only slid into anger and obsession after he lost his perfect wife. 

Eventually Dean realises that none of that is true. Mary couldn’t cook. She was a hunter. She was involved in the circumstances that brought about her own death. She was a complicated person, and in the end he got the chance to see that knowing the real her, flaws and all, was infinitely superior to believing the white-washed fairytale about the perfect martyr that John created after she died. There’s also the fact that John was never the perfect husband or father, even before Mary’s death. We get maybe one reference to that in Spn, how in Dean’s heaven in season 5 he remembers John and Mary fighting and John moving out for a few days, but not much else. The focus is very much on how John turned into a neglectful parent and an angry man after Mary’s death. But The Winchesters is working hard to dispel that lie. John always had this anger in him. Mary even calls him out multiple times on how he’s using her and their relationship as an excuse to avoid his issues. She straight up uses those words. There are also references to how raising your kids to be soldiers and being their drill sergeant rather than their parent is one of the worst things a parent can do to their child. 

Anyway, as interesting as it is to see all these things addressed in the Spn universe, what’s so damn satisfying is seeing Dean realise it. Dean’s on a mission to learn more about his past. To understand that our parents and where we come from shapes and moulds the people we become, but it doesn’t have to define us forever if we don’t let it. By accepting his past and finding out the truth about who his parents truly were, he can accept himself and move forward, free of whatever baggage that had been dragging him down for so much of his life.

And the greatest part about all of this, is that Dean’s the one driving this story. It’s not God, or his father or even his duty to take care of Sam which dictated so much of his life and his choices before. This is about Dean’s choices and who he is as a person and what he wants. It’s funny because as little as we saw John Winchester in season 1 of Spn, he was very much the spectre hanging over the story, and the search to find him is what drove much of the plot throughout the season. Much of what his sons were doing was in reaction to him. And now in The Winchesters, Dean himself is the spectre that’s been hanging over the season. He’s the one making the big moves and steering the action. He’s the one everyone, friend and foe alike, is looking for. He’s the one who gave John the note and put this whole thing into motion. After the ending of Spn took away so much of his agency and everything that makes Dean Dean, he’s finally getting it back and then some.

I’m excited to see how the season’s going to end, but I’ll forever be happy that this show gave us Dean being his own person again. He’s the one picking the music this time.

[ssouhekii]

ʲᵉˡˡʸᶠⁱˢʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ ᶜᵃᵗ - ☆ .° • . °

☆ ˢⁱᵍᵐᵃ & ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ!ᵒʳᵃᶜˡᵉ!ʸ/ⁿ - * ☆ . °

wc - 4.4k ☆

Sigma didn't go into this month's Decay meeting expecting for them to induct a new member. He really didn't expect this member to be a little kid. He really, really didn't expect this little kid to be staying with him.

warnings: implied/referenced child neglect & experimentation, nothing too serious though, yet, kind of uneventful because it's the first of a series, nobody will tell poor sigma y/n's name and there's lots of awkward pauses

a/n - I haven't written in a very long time, so sorry if it's a bit dry. i promise the next chapter will have more interesting interactions and dialogue. I only wanted the conversations to be stiff for this chapter so that you can feel the tension between sigma and the reader. also, i know the word oracle is used incorrectly. more on that later

The Decay of Angels sat around a white plastic table in white plastic chairs. Behind each of them lay a beige wall, and under their feet a tan carpet.

Fyodor had perhaps chosen the blandest room to ever exist for this meeting, and the worst part was he couldn't even complain.

Sigma had spent their last meeting at Nikolai's elegant Oakwood dining table, stepping over streamers and stray cards scattered everywhere. Each member had taken a seat in a wildly abstract chair, ranging from Fyodor in a bean-bag on wheels to Nikolai, in his dramatic red velvet throne at the center of the table. Sigma had taken his place at a plastic folding chair that he was sure had been taken from a wrestling gig.

So, he had felt a sick sort of relief walking into the most unsettlingly mild room known to man. He listened to a hung-over Fukuchi drone on about that month's objectives, their current business affairs, financing updates, and upcoming social events. Each member of the Decay stood and gave a rushed report of their activity for the previous month, Sigma noting his Casino's gains, Nikolai his undercover diplomatic efforts, and Fukuchi his outlook on the political environment. Bram had nothing to share, and closed his eyes once again in his coffin as Fyodor stood from his chair. He gave a calm glance around the room and closed his eyes, beginning his proposal.

"As you all know, news of a certain ability user affecting affairs with underground organizations have been circulating as of late."

Sigma cast a worried glance to Nikolai, who seemed invested in his dear friend's speech.

Sigma cast a worried glance to Nikolai, who seemed invested in his dear friend's speech.

"It has come to my attention that this ability user is completely unaffiliated with any organization, and is quite out of control. Thus, we must take control of them before another group has a chance to do so."

The casino's manager set his elbow on the table and looked at his fingernails. They were glazed white and slightly pointed.

Sigma hadn't quite expected Fyodor to initiate inducting another member to the Decay. He had a habit of coercing Fukuchi to let talented people slip out of their hands and into the palms of the Rats. Despite the losses, Sigma could never help but be relieved at the Decay's stable member count. Four was enough for him.

Fyodor continued.

"While we already have this ability user in our grasp, it may be difficult to keep them in our hand, so to speak. It is confirmed that the subject has difficulty controlling their ability. However, that should not be a problem for Fukuchi and I to address."

Fyodor opened his eyes slowly and flicked his lashes while glancing to his side, making eye contact with Fukuchi before looking away.

"The difficulty in inducting this.. person into the Decay lies in controlling their temperament."

Sigma's calmness and relief shook itself off immediately. For Fyodor to express trouble with controlling someone meant they were stubborn as a stone, or even a genius on the same level as him.

"A discussion between Fukuchi and I has taken place, and we believe the best course of action should be for a member of the Decay to welcome them into their home. This would be convenient for surveillance, as the subject cannot be left alone for long. It would also benefit training."

The casino manager became even more nervous. It was precisely with his luck they'd announce it was him who had to take in a new member with behavioral issues.

"The subject may also not live alone as they are not... of age to do so. The ability user in question, a child of six years, cannot be trusted to manage their own household properly."

A lump formed in his throat. Deep down, there was a part of him that almost begged to recieve this child. That begged for that almost ill-concieved notion of a family. He pushed that notion down in favor of disdain, and to any unassuming citizen he would almost look sick at the thought of taking in a kid with behavioral issues.

Fyodor continued.

"It is known that some members-" Nikolai came to mind, and Sigma noticed Bram glance to the clown too. "-cannot sustain an environment suitable for a child either."

Sigma was nearly sure this would be him.

"Given Fukuchi's alcoholism, Bram's lack of... appendages, and Nikolai's.. preferred environment, that leaves two options out of the Decay," Fyodor and everyone else eyed Sigma, and he felt like this attack was premeditated. "However, given my circumstances involving myself and those currently living with me, I cannot guarantee the safety of a young child in my household."

"So, you'd want me to take the child in?"

Fukuchi rose from his chair and stood beside Fyodor.

"If you'd be willing to take on this job, it'd benefit the organization greatly. We're willing to use the Decay's funds to pay for any living costs for the subject, including recreation. You are not obligated, but the subject's safety is of utmost importance towards our future plans."

Sigma was pretty sure that "recreation" just meant toys.

"Paying for living costs is no problem. With all due respect, the casino allocates for about three-fifths of the Decay's income, while also sustaining itself. However," Sigma paused, searching for his words. "However, I am in no way prepared to handle a child. I have no prior experience."

"Well, Sig, you can learn! You got a hold of the casino in no time!" Nikolai had broken his silence, no longer entranced with Fyodor's little speech. His encouraging words only set Sigma off.

"Yes, Nikolai, the casino is a whole other issue! I cannot be expected to manage an entire business while watching over a superpowered child with supposed behaviour issues! While I am fine covering financial management for the Decay Of Angels, I was never in any way propositioned to join for babysitting. I do want to stay professional here, but you can't just spring a job like this on me!"

Sigma finished his little rant. The entire table remained still, exactly the same as they had been before. Sigma wasn't even sure when said child would arrive, but he was sure he required some sort of notice before they even mentioned it to him.

He should have known Fyodor would see through him.

"No, Sigma, you were never "propositioned for babysitting" or anything of the like. However, we may very well compensate you-" Nikolai cut in. "Yeah, yeah! We'll raise your paycheck and find more people to cover the casino! We've already got ya covered, Sig!!"

"Thank you, Nikolai," Fukuchi grumbled, clearly holding back a sigh. "We will indeed compensate you and cover both your costs and time lost. As for experience, none is needed."

"Fukuchi, I can't be expected to raise a child with no guidance or skills pertaining to.. to children."

Fyodor made eye contact with Sigma, chilling him to the bone. The rat's sickening smile curled upwards.

"You haven't got to raise any child, Sigma. Just make sure the subject is alive long enough to complete training. Once that is finished, they will sustain themself."

It wasn't until later, much later, that Sigma had realized why the idea of training a living weapon for the Decay made him so, so ill.

"So you expect me to, what, keep a six year old under lock and key?"

"Sure, as long as that works for you."

Sigma, much more unnerved but slightly less opposed to the idea, decided he'd need to shoot more questions. One, in particular, ached in his mind.

"Why is this child so important? What plan is so dire to you that it involves keeping a specific ability user so close?"

Fukuchi leaned forward, and Nikolai whipped his head towards him. "Again, this ability looks to be a danger if not controlled, and an even bigger danger if controlled by a group other than us. As for our plans with her in the future, those remain private."

"Well, what's this dangerous ability, then, and why am I subject to deal with it?"

"As said, you are the only one with a household safe enough to keep a child alive and healthy. As for the ability.." Fyodor narrowed his eyes as Fukuchi finished talking, taking this as his turn to convince Sigma.

"The subject's ability is called, quite simply, Oracles. It can be supposed that she is able to see any place and hear any word without actually being in the area. However, this ability may only view what is going on at the exact moment. In addition, it has been confirmed that the subject cannot control nor will a vision at any given moment, making them completely unprompted."

Sigma cut in as soon as Fyodor paused.

"So how is that dangerous?"

"You know very well how, Sigma."

He had only asked the question to stall a little further. This conversation, the way these people spoke about this child, made him sick. He didn't want to answer their question.

Nikolai tapped his feet, while Fukuchi and Fyodor eyed him cautiously. Bram was asleep. Quietly, Sigma uttered the only question he could think of.

"What will happen to her if I refuse?"

Fyodor's smile faded slightly, but there was no malice in his eyes. Fukuchi's gaze narrowed and Nikolai frowned.

"Sig, don't do that. We kinda need you to do this!"

"It's alright, Nikolai," Fyodor hummed. "I can keep the ability user myself. Though, Ivan hasn't reacted well to their arrival, I'm sure he can adjust. He may not trust their ability now, but he'll warm up as they.." Fyodor was tuned out as Sigma recalled what he knew about Ivan. The tall, unsettling man whom Fyodor had done brain surgery on, making him into some sort of passive servant. Sigma almost shuddered. The thin man had been almost violently obsessed with Fyodor, though not in the way Nikolai was. In fact, Ivan had outright threatened Nikolai more than once for even grazing against his beloved master.

Sigma was sure he understood now why Fyodor hadn't wanted to keep a child near someone like that.

Damn Sigma for being so mild.

He decided to use his last resort before declining the offer. The child would simply have to deal with Ivan's distrust.

"Would it be alright if I could... meet this girl first before allowing her into my home?"

Though Sigma had completely cut in, the room remained unresponsive for a passing moment before Nikolai jumped up onto Sigma and let out some sort of high-pitched squeal. "AHH! I KNEW you'd give her a chance! Thanks for doing us such a favor! I'll go grab her right now!!"

Nikolai disappeared before he could even hear Sigma mutter something about not having said yes.

☆ . ° • . ☆ * .°

The strange tall man with a white braid and striped pants unlocked the door to the room and strutted in, humming a tune. He, not even looking at you, grabbed your wrist tightly and began to drag you somewhere yet again. You'd been in that little beige room for almost twenty minutes now, but it'd felt like you had barely sat down.

"Time to go, kiddo!" He chirped as he almost lifted you out of your metal folding chair with a single tug to your wrist. You had tried not to budge, but the man proved to have incredible strength. So, you walked out with him, struggling against his grasp even though it was futile. In fact, he ignored your muttering and wriggling, continuing to almost skip down the hall.

At last you two arrived at a door, and the strange man squatted down to meet your eyes. You thought he was unsuccessful, as the card covering his own left eye prevented him from looking into both of yours at once. He compensated for this by quickly darting his right eye back and forth.

"You're gonna go meet the man who's gonna take care of you, okay? Yeah? Make sure to be re-e-eal nice, alright? Let's put on a big smile, okay?!"

You continued to stare blankly ahead as the excitable man pushed open the doors and again dragged you into the room. There were more tall men, and your blank stare dropped into a scowl.

While being pulled forwards, you stopped struggling in favor of analyzing the odd characters before you.

Your eyes were first drawn to the pale, grey-haired man, asleep to your far right in a large wooden box. It was lined with some sort of soft-looking red texture, which you were sure you could've fallen asleep in too. However, what caught your attention the most was the man's striking lack of appendages and a sword where his stomach should be. You were sure it must've hurt a lot, and were glad he was getting rest.

You still scowled as you looked to the left of the sleeping man, you spotted two other figures you'd seen before. The grey-haired man in the red coat and the eery black-haired man. The grey-haired man annoyed you. When he had first caught you, scampering around in a forest near the abandoned cottage you had made into your home, he had picked you up and slung you over his shoulder like a sort of package. You had been incredibly frustrated and screamed until your voice gave out, pounding your fists against his back. He hadn't ever responded, and only spoke in short commands like "Stop" and "quiet." Worst of all, his breath smelled sour and dry, like those fermented drinks that the adults always had on rough nights.

You disliked the black-haired man too, but for different reasons. Where his grey friend paid almost no attention to you at all, you could always feel the dark man's eyes on you. He spoke in a saccharine tone and called you things like mishka and little one. His gaze almost felt full of contempt, and he kept physical distance from you like you were some sort of beast.

Looking around, you didn't see the black-haired man's other friend, the one with the bandages around his head. You were glad, because you didn't like him. He had said if you spied on his master he'd throw you out, and then spied on you himself the whole night.

Finally, right in front of you, was a man with choppy hair in half-purple and half-white. The inside of his coat sparkled like the sky when it was dark, which caught your attention. Being speedily pulled towards him by the man with the striped pants, you noticed the half-and-half's gaze on you.

You weren't surprised at his stare, as that tended to be a common reaction to your appearance. You weren't sure why. Maybe it was because your hair hung in your face like vines on the fence of an overgrown house, abandoned for years with no care. Maybe it was because your nearly-empty eyes had deep bags under them from all the times you'd lost sleep after seeing a vision. Maybe it was because you had only ever wore a musty hospital gown, if only for lack of better clothing options. Or maybe, maybe it was just because everyone thought your visions were the most important thing about you, and that you were some mystical oracle that knew their fate.

You gazed up at Mister-two-tone, not noticing his friend mouth "introduce yourself" to him before he knelt down and looked into your eyes, and glanced to the floor briefly before slowly offering his hand to you.

"My name is Mister Sigma. What's your name..?"

His voice was deep and serious, but gentle. You looked at this strange Mister Sigma's hand. You weren't sure what he wanted you to do with it, so you ignored it and kept staring into his eyes. Silence overwhelmed the room. Over a minute passed without your response, and Mister Sigma retracted his hand while you continued to stare him down.

It wasn't that you were shy, or that you'd forgotten your own name, or even that you didn't ever have one. You had been little y/n in your town until the people in white coats took you away and started calling you Subject Oh Thirty Eight, or Zero Three Eight, or even just Thirty-Eight. Then, the sterile white building had been flooded and you had run into a nearby forest, and suddenly you hadn't got any name at all. Or maybe you had, but it didn't really matter that much.

You were drawn out of your thoughts by that Mister Sigma interjecting again.

"So, I uh.. What's your favorite animal, kiddo?"

You had often enjoyed the company of feral cats in your town, and had seen some strange, fat striped-tail ones in the woods you occupied. However, you didn't understand why he would need to know, so you kept silent.

After about fifteen seconds of still staring into his eyes (you counted yourself), you were brought back into focus by his voice breaking the room's silence a third time.

"Is it true that you can see anything, anywhere?"

Oh, you knew the answer to this! Everyone who met you had asked. You noticed the eery black-haired man behind Mister Sigma narrow his eyes at you.

"I can't see the visions you want at will. I'm sorry."

Your voice was scratchy, both from the screaming you'd done the day earlier when the grey-haired man caught you and the fact that you barely talked anyways. This response, however, was easy to say after dozens of live practice sessions.

The two-toned Mister Sigma's eyes softened and he glanced to the side with an almost nervous look before looking back at you and smiling.

"That's alright, I don't need anything. I just wanted to know."

You continued to stare at him as he stood up and motioned his colleagues to come near. Card-face dropped your arm and sped over to the two-toned man along with everyone else, and they huddled around you in a whisper.

You stood silently and continued to stare.

☆ . ° • . ☆ * .°

It was at that moment Sigma swore he wouldn't get attached.

Hearing the first words from a glassy-eyed child be "I'm sorry" formed a new feeling of contempt for the world around him. He almost felt angry, hearing someone so young apologize for being unable to be of use.

Damn Fyodor for picking a child he saw so much of himself in.

Though the little child had seemed a little cold and almost feral, they seemed considerably easier to handle than what Sigma had expected. He'd almost expected a younger Nikolai. However, he wasn't relieved to find that their preferred form of conversation was a cold glare.

"So, Sig? Whaddya think, whaddya think? Don't keep us waiting any longer!!"

Sigma felt his colleagues' eyes on him. He glanced at his feet, then at the child (who made eye contact with him through their messy, overgrown locks. Sigma almost shivered.) then finally moved his eyes across his coworkers.

"I will take in the child," Fyodor and Fukuchi smiled while Nikolai nearly burst into joyful laughter. "Provided that the Decay covers all costs, time lost on the casino, and training efforts. This is my only offer."

"Ah, Sig, we knew you'd take her! Great, great!!" Nikolai sprang onto Sigma and hugged him, while Fyodor clapped politely. Fukuchi gave an almost half-hearted bow, clearly tired from this indecision.

"Thank you for doing this, Sigma. Route me your receipts every month and you'll be compensated. I'll have any documents needed for a front mailed to you soon."

Fukuchi took his leave soon after. Bram was carried out with him. Sigma pushed Nikolai off of him and looked to Fyodor.

"I'm glad I could convince you. Good evening, Sigma." Fyodor also left quickly, clearly wanting out before Sigma changed his mind.

Sigma turned to Nikolai, who had made his way to the little child and was shaking their hand furiously. They squirmed and grumbled.

"Bye bye, kiddo!! Have fun with Sig, okay? I'll drop by soon!"

He leaped up and trotted to Sigma, grasping his hands and staring into his face almost excitedly.

"Hey, Sig, good luck!! Congrats on your first kid!" Nikolai skipped out like some sort of madman, leaving Sigma and the child alone, watching each other.

He couldn't believe what he'd just agreed to.

☆ . ° • . ☆ * .°

As the strange white-haired man finally left, you were left alone in front of the table with Mister Sigma. He turned and stared at you. You kept watching him as you had. The way his hair moved was interesting to you. Every time he turned his head, it made a swishing motion. It was like some sort of fish you'd seen in the aquarium a long, long time ago. You couldn't remember its name.

"Well, it's getting late. I guess we'd, uh, better get going, yeah?" He asked, seeming slightly unsure of himself. He stepped towards you, and you instinctively stepped back.

He held out a hand to you slowly. You weren't quite sure what to make of it. Did he want you to take it? You weren't sure whether he knew that he could just take your hand himself, but you didn't tell him that. You'd had enough manhandling for two days.

He retracted his hand and let out a slight huff, glancing toward you before turning away towards the door.

"Come on, let's go home."

Mister Sigma walked towards the door, and you passively followed behind him. Leading you down the hallway, the only sound he made was the soft clack, clack, clack of his shoes on the floor. The two of you twisted and turned down the halls past several bland brown doors before exiting the building through a set of large glass sliders.

The twilight glistened, though not as beautifully as the inner liming of his coat that swayed along with his hair as he walked. The man pulled out a ring decorated by a large plastic button and a few metal keys. He clicked the button and one of the cars in the lot lit up and let out a quick honk. He turned to his car, a small white Toyota with sleek lights on the front and the back. Its interior consisted of grey leather seats, and a pair of red plush dice hanging from the mirror.

You followed him to the left side of the car, and he opened the front door before looking at you in confusion.

"You can sit on the other side, unless you'd like to sit in the back. This is the driver's seat, though, and I have to sit here."

He spoke cautiously for some reason, stepping over each word as if simply telling you to go sit on the other side was a mortal offense. It wasn't that important to you, but you did appreciate the explanation. You hadn't been told why you had to do something in a very long time, so it was a breath of fresh air.

You paced to the other side of the car, and mimicking how he did it, took the door handle in one hand and pulled it. The door barely budged, and you pulled again. On your third try, you set both palms on the handle and heaved it open.

You stepped into the car proudly, and sat down.

"Could you close the door, please?" Mister Sigma interjected, interrupting your sense of accomplishment. You pulled the door shut with both hands and glared at him. His eyebrows raised slightly, and he squinted a little at you.

"Are you okay?"

"Mhm."

Your mild frustration was dissolving quickly, and you relaxed your gaze. He looked down beside you and raised his pointer finger.

"Could you, uh, buckle your seatbelt?"

You weren't quite sure what that meant. You'd seen cars before, but any memory of being in one was hazy. Lightly tilting your head, you opened your mouth a bit.

"Do you need help?"

You shifted in your seat and nodded. He slowly reached over, watching you all the while, and dragged a large grey belt out of the seat and reached over you, placing it into a button on your other side. It made a little click, and he retracted his hands.

"Now we're ready to go."

Mister Sigma set his keys down beside him and started the car. It made a hum as he pulled out of the parking spot. You watched him closely, paying special attention to how his hair moved as he looked around. You could only see the white side right now, but it didn't matter that much to you.

You continued to watch him, his reactions, his movements as he drove. Whenever another car got in front of him, he seemed to purse his lips. Whenever the big light on the road turned red before he passed it, he'd let out a little sigh before relaxing his grip on the wheel. Whenever he stopped, he nervously glanced to the side. As soon as he met your eyes, he turned away, his hair swishing after him.

About halfway through your little drive and almost a dozen awkward glances, he parted his lips while looking forward towards the road.

"Why are you watching me so closely? Do you need something?"

You continued to watch him.

"No."

"Alright.. if you do, please let me know."

"I don't need anything, thank you."

He kept driving and looking ahead. You kept watching him, and at the next stop he turned to you and met your eyes in an uneasy gaze.

"I'm sorry, it's just... it's a little unsettling to have you watching my every move and I..." he trailed off.

"I'm sorry. I'll stop."

"It's alright, you're not in trouble, it's just that.. I'm just a little confused about why you're watching me so much. We've passed plenty of interesting things on the road, but you haven't taken your eyes off me since we started driving." He looked intently at you.

"Your hair."

"What about my hair? Is it the color?" He seemed to grow a little more nervous.

"It moves. It goes swish, swish when you move."

"Yes, I suppose it does..."

"Are there many people with long hair where you're from?" He seemed to pause at the end, searching for what to call you. The space in his words was filled with another long glance. The car continued moving.

"There aren't many people at all."

"Oh, I see."

The long drive continued in silence.

[genshin-squabbles-and-wobbles]

i've seen your yandere scenario the one with breaking the reader, i absolutely loved it - i was wondering if you can do the same scenario except it's yandere scaramouche, xiao, and cyno?

Yes I can my dear! However I already wrote for Yandere Scaramocuhe, and Cyno here. Please enjoy. But I can do Xiao. :)

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°

Scenario: i would like to request a yandere scenario but oh no it's really really sad. if you can, i would want to see yandere kazuha, childe, tighnari like regretting breaking reader. like reader keeps getting hurt by the yanderes until they feel nothing and at first the yanderes didn't mind it thinking they were obeying them but then they start feeling guilty for breaking you because now you aren't expressing any emotions, no matter what they do.

all in all, very very angst at the end

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••° Part 1: Here Part 2: Here Trigger Warning: Mild non consensual Sexual content, neglect, and starvation

Xiao ─── °∘❉∘° ────── °∘❉∘° ────── °∘❉∘° ───

As the Yaksha stared down at you in bed, he looks at you. He looks at your blank face, your blank eyes, your blank emotions. Was it too much to ask to protect you? He wanted to protect you, very badly. You were one of the rare good things to happen to him ever since he lost his family to their Karmic debt. Morax and You were all he had left. Was it too much to ask to be protective of you? Lock you in his hotel room in Wangshu inn? Feeding you almond tofu none stop? However, Xiao never knew how to take care of a human being, after all he is an adepti, he never took the effort to learn about humans and how they function. Of course they interest him, but not enough to learn how to take care of them. Hence, what lead to your neglected, and skinny state, as he never knew how to take care of you, properly. However, he couldn't trust anything. The food you ate could have been poisoned. The paths you took could have been dangerous and deadly...despite you being one of the top adventures in the adventure guild. Xiao looked down at your dead face, yet alive, skinny and malnourished. Was it too much to have a taste of you right now? As he tasted sweetness for the first time when he kissed you. He was different from Almond Tofu but he could taste it. Xiao gently adjusted your hair and clothes and placed his hand on your face. "Hey...can you please at least talk to me, so I know you are okay? It is rude to ignore me like this." Nothing, silence. He tried to invoke some reaction out of you by lifting one of your legs up, and gently pressed his hot tongue on your thigh and dragged it all the way up to your knee. You still tasted sweet. Oh so very sweet to him. He pulled away as all he saw was a blank face and a miserable appearance. Xiao sighed in frustration. "I don’t get it! I provided everything I can for you! What are you just laying there!?" He started to tear up in frustration. He remembered how fierce you were, how happy you were fighting monsters, how cheerful you were at taverns and people. He remembered how you protected him time and time again and how much you enjoyed it. Immediately, as he watched his hot tears drop on your face, he started to apologize to archons, gods, his dead family, his loyal master Rex Lapis. "I'm sorry...its my fault...it's my fault...I should...I should..." He mumbled and started to cry more. It was his fault, all of it. Regret plagued his mind, as his karmic debt was about to eat him alive. This time, he couldn’t take it anymore. He rather die than let his karmic debt over take him. He pressed a gentle kiss on your cheek, and went on his knees. He aimed his marble jade staff to his chest, and plunged it deep, past his hundred years of life. All you heard was a thud. Then silence.

[bohemian-nights]

Arlī(Anew)-Chapter 4

Word Count: ~5,431 words

Rating: 18+

Warning ⚠️: Uncle/niece incest (mild smut)

Description: “She has yet to give you a child.” Naerys hand flew to her stomach. Peering through the crack in the door that Daemon had left to take a look to see the scene that was playing out in their chamber.

AN: This story takes place from episode 5 onward. I’ve changed things up a bit but I’ve kept the timeline intact.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

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116 AC-Kings Landing

“That was then Rhaenyra,” Daemon's quiet voice could be heard from their solar, awakening Naerys from her restless nap. She had tried to sleep but had not been able to find an agreeable position in which she could take her mid-day slumber. Instead, she lies in the realm between reality and dreams. Constantly drifting in and out of consciousness.

In the fortnight they had spent at the capital it seemed as if Naerys could not get enough rest. She woke up tired and went to bed in the same state. Her days had become a monotonous string of court proceedings that she struggled to find her footing.

The sun set and the sun rose and a new day of court would begin. An endless parade of pageantry and tittering empty-headed smiles. The young princess longed for the quiet solitude of Dragonstone. Some nights she would lie awake going through every interaction she had that day.

Laena, her husband, and the rest of house Velaryon were stuck on Driftmark. A coming storm had made their journey to Kings Landing impossible. Alicent and Rhaenyra had taken it upon themselves to entertain her in her cousin's absence. If it was not Alicent with her constant teas, sewing circles, and worrying looks it was Rhaenyra and her jibs. Searching her face to see which one would hit its target.

Naerys' husband's general absence had not helped matters. She knew that her uncle had not meant to neglect her. Perhaps neglect wasn’t even the right word for it. The simple fact of the matter was that duty had called. One could hardly say no to the king. Least of all when he is your elder brother.

Daemon was back in the Viserys good graces. All was forgiven since the debacle of their wedding had put further strain on the brother's relationship. Daemon had been invited to attend small council meetings. Lord Strong surprisingly did not object to her husband’s presence on the small council. The lord undoubtedly wanted to keep the peace and was willing to make sacrifices to do so. The rest of the council had followed the hand’s lead.

The rogue prince's seat at the meetings was in an unofficial capacity of course, but some position on the council would no doubt be offered to him once more. He would take it. Daemon was never one for the shadows. Dragonstone was less than stimulating to the mind. At court he was in his element once more.

Naerys herself had been offered to attend a council meeting, but Rhaenyra had put her off from taking up the offer. “Naerys will be bored out of her mind uncle. Wouldn’t you aunt?” It was said with the same condescending tone that she always spoke with. The remark stung, but not as much as her other taunts.

“Children are a joy.” Rhaenyra had found her bullseyes. As Rhaenyra cooed over her black-haired sons, Naerys had to hold back from snapping at the woman. The realm's delight had gotten with child without having to bat so much as an eye. She had given birth to two healthy sons. Two healthy heirs. Not all women were so lucky.

Naerys apparent lack of children had been a source of gossip throughout the Red Keep. Rhaenyra had seen to it. Among the ladies at court, the detail of her empty womb was a favorite topic of conversation. She’s barren. She can not give him children. Poor thing. Perhaps the prince will take a lover again. The young princess would have faltered under the growing weight of the chatter had she not suspected that their efforts to have an heir might yet be fulfilled.

“It wasn’t very long ago.” Rhaenyra’s high-pitched whisperings interrupted the younger girl from her memories. Bringing her back to her present reality, Naerys reached for the robe hanging off her changing room's screen to cover her nakedness. The capital was much warmer than Dragonstone. Even when Daemon did not join her in sleep, she remained comfortable throughout the nights.

“She has yet to give you a child.” Naerys hand flew to her stomach. Peering through the crack in the door that Daemon had left to take a look to see the scene that was playing out in their chamber. Her husband stood by a freshly lit fire with a drink in his hand. Rhaenyra’s back was turned towards her as she faced their uncle.

“So has Laenor.” Naerys could see Rhaenyra visibly wincing from where she stood. Her body jumped slightly at their uncle's words. Daemon looked unbothered, almost bored with the flow of conversation as he swirled the amber liquid in his goblet before taking another slow sip. He had not taken his eyes off the firelight in their chambers.

“She may never give you heirs.” A sneer was evident in her voice. Her spine stilling, holding her head high once more. “What good is my cousin, a Valyrian bride, good for if she has not done her duty to you?” It was a bluff. Naerys could not be put aside so easily. The king would not allow it. Both Ser Vaemond and Lord Corlys would raise hell if an accident were to occur. She was the blood of old Valyria, not a common Andal lady.

“She’s my wife Rhaenyra.” He had lowered his voice. Daemon had finally turned around to glare down at the realm's delight. The dying light of the day coupled with the glow from the fire cast his eyes in a tenebrous haze. “You will do well to remember that.”

“Lady Rhea Royce was your wife as well.” Rhaenyra let out a bitter laugh as she continued on. Unconcerned with the shadows that crossed their uncle's face. “What did you call her? Your bronze bitch. Have you forgotten her already?”

It was easy enough to forget that Daemon had ever been married to another. Her husband never brought up his ill-fated union with the vale woman. Naerys had never even met the woman. She only existed in the outer reaches of her mind as a faceless memory.

“You promised me and yet you married her.” Her cousin's anger and desperation had grown into something else. Rhaenyra grabbed Daemon. Pulling the tall man into her space. “You promised me.” Her husband did not move from her cousin's grasp. Daemon began to stroke her forearm. The touch was intimate. As if they had done it a million times before. Rhaenyra’s words echoed in Naerys' mind.

Naerys did not know what the two got up to during her visits or what happened between the two before their respective marriages. She would not ask now. The past lay in the past. It was best kept that way. Daemon was ever the attentive husband these days. She would not bring up old misdeeds, but it seemed that these wounds appeared whether she wanted them to or not.

“Rhaenyra.” It was said with a sigh. The venom was gone from his gaze. Her husband closed his eyes briefly as if to gather his bearings. His fingers continued their descent across Rhaenyra’s arm. Naerys could feel her blood begin to boil. She was grateful that no objects lay within her reach or else she would have hurled them at her uncle's head.

“Kosti sagon biare kesīr.” Daemon did not reply. His fingers had finally ceased their movement. He cast his violet eyes towards the door where his wife hid behind. Naerys froze hoping he had not seen her.

“Would you abandon Ser Harwin so easily?” Naerys could see her husband leaning down as if to whisper a poorly kept secret in her cousin's ear. Rhaenyra had taken a lover herself. She was not left without companionship. She found her own distractions.

“I had no choice.” Rhaenyra sputtered at her uncle's question. Her desperation returned as she reached out to bring him near her.” I was alone. We both were.” Excuses fell from her lips, but came upon deaf ears. Daemon spurred his niece’s advances this time. Moving further away from her grasp back towards the fire.

“I am not alone Rhaenyra.” Daemon turned his back fully towards the fire to face Rhaenyra, but he did not look at his niece as he had said the words. Naerys felt her husband's gaze lock onto her. A grin spread across his face which seemed to grow when he saw the fury within his wife.

Rhaenyra had yet to see her, but the woman was burning up with her own barely contained-rage. She almost fluttered past her as she made her way to exit their chambers, but her lilac eyes finally landed on her cousin. The princess yanked open the iron-framed oak door, bringing in a draft, to face her cousin. Naerys pulled her robe tighter around her body to ward off the chill.

“He never stays in one bed for long.” Rhaenyra’s eyes cast down at Naerys stomach with a mirthless sneer. The older girl bent down slightly to spit her next words in her cousin's ear. “If he ever puts a babe in you he’ll just move on to the next one.” The older girl cast one last look at their uncle, before storming from the room.

A wave of dizziness came over Naerys. Daemon was by her side with surprising speed. His smirk had fallen as he helped her into his chair, seating her on his lap before handing her a goblet of water fussing over her as if he were a mother hen. “I’ve sent for Maester Orlys.” He urged her to drink the cooling liquid. Her anger at her husband faded with each sip. “We are not going.”

Naerys had nearly forgotten Jacaerys name-day feast. Rhaenyra had pushed it back as far as she could, but now that Ser Harwin and the Velaryon party had finally arrived the feast was to take place that night.

“We must.” They hadn’t much of a choice. Their absence at the festivities would be noted. Daemon may not care what the “sheep” gossiped about, but Naerys would not add fuel to the growing pyre. They still had to do their duty.

Naerys made ready to climb off her husband’s lap though her Daemon would not release her. He merely shushed her as he brought the back of his hand up to stroke his niece's sable cheek. He gave her a dark look before he leaned in, catching her open mouth by surprise. Their pink tongues danced tangling with one another briefly before her uncle pulled away.

“Ao issi issa vys issa byka mēre.” Daemon buried his silver head in her neck. He was breathing her in as he softly petted the silver coils at her nape. Naerys let herself be fawned over. Her husband's words and gentle ministrations soothed the last remnants of the dull ache she had felt moments ago. “You mean more to me than you could possibly know.”

It occurred to her that for all of his bolstering and saccharine remarks Daemon had never spoken those three little words. They had been married for a year now and yet in some ways Naerys still felt like she did not know her husband at all of his true opinion of her.

Was a man like her husband even capable of such feelings? Was he even capable of feeling that way toward her? Love was not a requirement of marriage, but Naerys was certain that she carried half of him inside of her. Surely that meant something. Was she to share a child with a man who ran hot one minute and cold?

“Get dressed sweetling.” Daemon snapped Naerys from her thoughts with a start. Releasing her from his lap with a final kiss on her temple before turning quickly to head to his own antechamber to do the same.

The rogue prince did not stop to check back on her, but his wife did not miss the glance he gave her before he had left to change. Nor did she miss when he hesitated to leave her in the first place. Naerys knew that she was burning under his fire, but perhaps he burned in hers as well. Or perhaps she was too hopeful. Believing in fairytales, words made of wind, and gallant knights where there were none to be found.

If it was something Naerys mother's family were known for it was how to make an entrance. In Velaryon fashion, they arrived late. They were the last ones to arrive at the Red Keep for the little prince's festivities and what an entrance they had made. Particularly Laena’s girls.

The little darlings had stolen the show. Baela and Rhaena were not yet half a year old and yet their presence dazzled the court. They were small little things that had inherited their mother's silver waves and the lilac eyes of house Velaryon. Sans their coloring, which was all Ser Harwin, they looked like the spitting image of their mother.

Naerys held onto the belief that babies could change until she saw Luke and Jace near their sire. Laenor’s “sons” had not a stitch of their “father” in them, nor their mother for that matter. One had only to look at Ser Harwin to see who fathered them.

Naerys had not meant to ambush her cousin, but Laena had arrived too late for a private chat over tea as she had wanted. She and Daemon were officially due to depart for Dragonstone in the coming days. Regardless of whether they made that journey together or not, the feast was likely Naerys' only chance to learn the truth of the situation.

Her cousins had not denied the affair. “My daughter will be queen,” Laena smiled at the passing ladies of the court as they took a turn about the room. “My youngest will likely be the lady of Driftmark.” She was a daughter of house Velaryon and a dragonrider. She held her head high as they passed by her husband. Ser Harwin smiled at his wife, bouncing one of their daughters in his hold. “I am happy with what I have dear cousin.”

Naerys could not understand how her cousin could be so calm in the face of everything. Laena had the patience of a septa. The young princess did not believe she could endure being around her husband’s mistress day in and out, much less embrace the situation with open arms. She would have grown mad by now, but her oldest cousin possessed a quiet acceptance that was lacking in even those twice her age.

Princess Rhaenys bristled whenever Rhaenyra or her sons came near. She seemed to avoid her good son altogether. Leaving for the opposite side of the room when the captain of the city watch ventured too close to her. Her behavior was a stark contrast to how her husband approached the subject of their grandsons and their sire

Lord Corlys for all intents and purposes appeared unconcerned. Baela, Laena’s oldest, was already betrothed to the future king of the seven kingdoms. From Laena’s own mouth Rhaena would be betrothed to the heir of her father's seat. As long as her uncle's blood sat upon the Driftwood throne he would not deny the strong boys the privilege of the Velaryon name.

Naerys' other uncle was a different matter. If there was any question of Ser Vaemond’s views on the future king and the Lord of Driftmark one need only to see the sneers the dark man gave his good niece and her sons to decipher his true opinion.

Laena was called away to deal with a teething Rhaena. Naerys was left alone. Daemon stood on the opposite side of the hall with Lord Boremund and her aunt Rhaenys. Her husband met her eyes, giving her a smirk. She might have gone over to join them, but though he was good-natured she always found the storm lord too brutish for her tastes.

“You glow my princess.” A foreign voice emerged from the shadows. Naerys turned to its source to come face to face with a ghost. Lords and Ladies gilded around the great hall with practiced ease. Not paying any attention to them. Naerys wondered if the woman was a figment of her imagination, but she knew that her eyes did not deceive her when Rhaenyra stared at her from where she sat at the high table with a mocking leer.

Lady Mysaria stood as an unnaturally pale thin creature cloaked in a hooded robe. Naerys had only seen her husband's former mistress from a distance. She had been a child then, but The woman had not changed much from her memory.

“Thank you.” Naerys did not know how else to respond. It was best to take her words at face value than see them as something more. The woman reached out a milky hand to brush her stomach. Her hands were cold. Cold enough to feel through the layers of dark gown she wore. Naerys tried not to flinch at her touch. Something told her not to falter under the pale woman’s stare.

“You have not told him have you?” The white worm continued to caress her stomach. Naerys dared not to breathe. She feared that if she did her body would give into the cold. “Children are fickle creatures. A blessing from the Gods that can be so easily taken away before they are even born.” She smiled and the chill spread. “Fear not princess, your husband shall have his heir.” Mysaria turned her violet gaze on the other side of the room towards where the princess had last seen her husband.

Naerys did not want to follow it, but she could not resist. Lord Boremund and Rhaenys had left from Daemon's side. Their presence had been replaced by a visiting Lysenni lady. Her white hair gleamed and reflected off of the hall’s ember glow. The lady had her hand resting on Daemon’s arm.

The rogue prince leaned into her hold bending his silver head so that she may whisper in his ear. Whatever she had said made the two descend into laughter. Naerys felt her face heat up. She tried to contain her fire, but she felt herself spiraling at the next words the white worm's breathed into her ear. “His heir and more to spare.” Mysaria was not known for her gift of prophecy, but she had known Daemon.

He will get bored of you. Rhaenyra’s unspoken words rang around in her head. She could no longer hear the noise of the festivities around her. Daemon had his fill. Naerys was just a plaything to him. A useful necessity that he was bound to, but the bonds of marriage meant little to her husband. He was back to where he wanted to be. He can not survive in one bed alone. It did not matter what pretty words he muttered to her in the dark of their chambers. Daemon was not built for it.

“Are you well princess?” Ser Gwayne had removed himself from his post and was by her side before she could blink. Holding her forearm up with practiced ease. Concern was written plainly across his face. Lady Mysaria had slinked back to whatever hole she had crawled out from, but the princess could still feel the chill she had left behind. Naerys felt eyes watching her every move. She could barely breathe under their stares.

“Would you escort me to my seat Ser?” Naerys did not have to explain she would not make it there herself. The Hightower knight was not the only one who had noticed her distress. Daemon was thundering across the Red Keeps great hall. The fury of the dragon blazing in his eyes.

Naerys met Ser Gwayne’s dark eyes before nodding her head in the direction of the oncoming storm. I do not want him whisking me off somewhere to simper out more empty words. The knight gave her a small smile in understanding. Taking her arm to escort her into the crowd, but Daemon had made their way towards them before they could.

“Thank you Ser Gwanye, but your assistance is no longer required.” Daemon sneered at the younger man. His empty sword hand twitches at his side. Viserys had not allowed her husband to bring Dark Sister to the feast. Only the guards had a need for weapons. Naerys thanked the Gods for her uncle’s foresight.

“I will go when the princess dismisses me.” The Hightower knight stood his ground this time. His dark eyes stared her husband down. The two were at a crossroad. Naerys wondered if the two would cause a scene.

“She is my wife Ser. You will release her this instant or you will not see to the end of this feast your dear sister has so dutifully planned.” Daemon's grip tightened on her. Only relaxing it when she let out a wince. Naerys would not meet his eyes. Her husband had no right to his foul temper. He had embarrassed her enough for one night. She would no longer placate him.

“Aunt,” a small voice called from the edge of the crowd. Aemond stood beckoning Naerys over to where he and his siblings sat on the far end of the high table. Naerys had never been more grateful for the distraction. Ser Gwayne let her go upon hearing his nephew, but Daemon would not fold.

“Our nephew calls for me my lord.” Naerys felt herself burning up as she finally lifted her head to gaze up at her husband. “May I go to him or are you mistrustful of little boys as well as the knights of your brother’s City Watch?” She expected her husband, but instead, he began to drag her to the king's youngest children.

They passed by the Lysenni lady Daemon had been enchanted with moments before. “Princess.” It was said with a curtesy and a polite smile. One which Naerys did not return. How could she expect her to when she had so blatantly made a pass at her husband with her in the very same room?

“She’d sooner take you into her bed than see me in it, you spoiled thing.” Daemon went to caress her arm, but the princess jerked from his touch. Her husband’s boldness would never cease to astound her. Naerys dug her heels into the floor. A move that she would regret as he threw her over his shoulder. Some of her uncle’s visiting guests looked their way, but the lords and ladies of the court were far used to the rogue prince's antics.

“Are you ill aunt?” Aemond asked with a frown as Naerys' uncle deposited her in an empty seat to Helaena’s left. Daemon moved to sit in the chair to her right, next to his brother's second son.

“Your aunt is fine.” Daemon placed a kiss on the back of her hand before setting their joint hands on the oak table. “She’s just tired.” Naerys sunk her nails into the back of her uncle's hand. It was not enough to draw blood, but it did cause the prince to grunt in discomfort.

She challenged her husband with a raised eyebrow. The man relented with a smirk breathing a threat into his niece’s ear. “Behave or you will not be able to walk tomorrow.” Naerys released her claws with a glare.

The children seemed to pay no mind to the older prince and princesses' heated exchanges. Aemond began to prattle on about some Valyrian text he had come across to his “nuncle.” Aemond and Damon's relationship had improved greatly. It was in no small part to Naerys.

With Naerys' increasing dizzy spells Daemon had forbidden her from flying alone. The royal couple would take turns riding Caraxes and Silverwing together. Carving out some time in the day to visit their dragons. By the second week of their stay in the capital, Aemond would often wait for them at the Dragon Pit entrance. Trying to catch a glimpse of their dragons with wonder in his eyes.

The young prince had no dragon of his own. His egg had long since turned to stone. Aegon had already begun to tease his brother about his dragonless state. His siblings' dragons were too small to ride, but they would soon even little Daeron would become Dragonriders while their brother remained without so much as a dragon to call his own.

The queen was not overly fond of her children’s dragons, but she understood the importance of the bond between a Targaryen and their dragon. She knew how her second son longed for an end to his dragonless state. It took little to convince Alicent to allow him the privilege of a dragon ride. Daemon had not been able to say no either after she had ambushed him while he was still coming down from his high one night.

“I would be grateful kepus if you— if you were to take Aemond with you and Caraxes on your next ride.” The two lay panting in each other’s embrace. Naerys combed her fingers through silver locks as he lay on top of her. The princess winced as her husband replaced his spent cock with his fingers. “Kostilus kepus.”

Daemon's eyes remained glazed over as he watched his digits move in and out of her spasming cunt. Fucking his cum back into his niece while his thumb drew small circles on her clit. “Ao issi sīr gevie byka mēre.” The rogue prince suddenly removed his fingers from within her as the princess was on the crest of another release. Naerys whined at her ruined climax, but her husband only shushed her. “Ao drējī issi vēttan syt issa”

Some of his seed leaked out wetting the silk sheets below, but the lovers paid it no mind as Daemon brought his fingers to his niece's waiting mouth. Naerys eagerly lapped at their combined spends while her husband gave into her demands.

The boy had been ecstatic when Daemon had helped him climb upon Caraxes back. Naerys watched them from the dragon pit entrance with a less than enthused Ser Criston who acted more like the boy's father than his mother's guard as they made their descent into the horizon. Aemond took to the sky’s with a fever she had not seen apart from Daemon and Laena.

Naerys reached for the goblet of water that was placed in front of her. Most of the nausea she had felt in the past had dissipated, but the dizziness remained. Helaena looked up at her with a smile. She was a sweet quiet girl, if not a bit spacey. Alicent’s daughter placed a small hand on her belly with a wistful smile.

“Do not fret aunt. My sister shall be healthy and beautiful.” Dragon dreams. Naerys did not know what to say. Daemon narrowed his eyes at their niece's words, but he made no comment. Only Aegon would grace the table with his thoughts on his sister's riddles.

“Mother isn’t pregnant you nitwit.” Aemond looked as if he wanted to throttle his own brother. Even Helaena had turned her nose up at the unruly boy. Aegon’s ill-mannered behavior remained unchecked by both the king and his mother. His sire seemed to barely acknowledge his existence while Alicent remained at a loss for how to best deal with it.

The king made his way to retire for the evening. He had stayed far longer than he usually did at the feasts of late. Those seated at the high table rose with him as was customary before Viserys would depart. Naerys tried to rise with the rest of the table, but Daemon rested his hand on her shoulder to stop her. As she looked at the pale hand Naerys felt what little was left of her restraint vanish.

She no longer cared if she made a scene. Let the court see how the rogue prince viewed her. The princess managed to shake free of her husband's hold. In her haste, she rose too quickly. Tripping over the leg of her chair she had pushed too far back, Naerys felt herself lose her balance. Her husband caught her before she could hit the Great Hall’s stone floors.

Daemon's voice was the first Naerys heard when she returned to consciousness. She felt sluggish and drowsy. The princess spied from the corner of her eyes one of Maester Orlys’ tinctures on her vanity. Whatever the kindly man had given her had a foul aftertaste.

“How long have you known sweetling?” Daemon did not look angry as he sat in a chair that had been placed by their bed dragging the back of his hand softly across her cheek. He in fact reminded her of a kicked puppy. His gaze was as tender as his touch. The rogue prince looked more like a boy of ten than a man grown. Naerys supposed that was really what he was underneath his bravado.

“When Alicent first invited me to tea.” She felt a weight lift off her shoulder at the revelation. Naerys had her suspicions before, but she had not been sure until Alicent had made it plain to her.

“Ser Gwayne was only trying to help.” Daemon winced. He should have been there for her, not the Hightower knight, but he would apologize for jumping to conclusions. It was not in his nature to express regret for his actions. Naerys understood why. Their fires burned too hot to allow them to. “How far along did Maester Orlys say I was?”

“Three moons.” The baby would arrive in time before the new year. Enough time to get her affairs in order. Enough time to travel to Dragonstone and then Driftmark if she so wished. Naerys wondered if she could fly there now. Daemon answered that question for her.

“We can journey back home.” He gave her a small smile. Petting her silver twists as if she were a child. Her handmaids must have come in at some point to braid up her hair. Something that she would be thankful for in the morning.

“You may stay.” Daemon began to tense up at her words. She reached out in search of the scars on her husband's neck. Stroking the rough skin with a soft hand. It was funny enough, but Naerys felt much calmer now. Looking back on the day the princess had realized that she had let others draw conclusions for her now. Conclusions that only one man could provide.

“I will go to Driftmark.” She tried to sound absent-minded as she said it. Continuing to trace over her husband's scars, threading her fingers into his hair. A storm cloud came over her husband. Naerys could not contain her smile at seeing her uncle's reaction.

Daemon noticed it, but he made no comment as he fell to his knees to kiss the top of her crown before burrowing his silver head into her neck. “I am yours you stubborn girl. I am no one, but yours as you are mine.” The man was exhausted. A day of pointless fighting had worn them both out. “We will go to Dragonstone. I’ve had enough of this city and it’s gossip.”

“I could lose it.” Daemon tensed up once more underneath her fingers. He removed himself from her neck. Violet eyes met a pair of amethyst orbs. It was bad luck to speak of such things. Especially in the early days, but the thought gnawed at her. So many things could go wrong. Naerys never considered herself a very lucky person.

“Ao issi daor nykeā jaes kepus.” Daemon was a man. He behaved as if he were a dragon, but he was still a man and Naerys was a mere woman. They were flesh, blood, and bone. They could not bend fate to suit them. Mortals had their limitations. The king talked of prophecies, but Daemon was little better with his blood obsession.

“Your mother doubts you byka zaldrīzes.” Her husband bent down to place a kiss on her still flat belly. “She worries too much.” Lifting up to face her once more Daemon grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. Lending her the strength that had left from her body. “Iksā ñuha ābrazȳrys. Iksā emare ñuha riña. Īlva riña. Iksi jāre lenton.”

Naerys was too tired to argue with her husband. There was still plenty to sort out, but the day had been long. The princess let herself be petted as she drifted off into a dreamless wonder. She would worry about their future in the morning when her head was clear.

Translations:

Kosti sagon biare kesīr: We can be happy here

kepus: uncle

Ao issi issa vys issa byka mēre: You are my world my little one

Kostilus kepus: Please uncle

Ao issi sīr gevie byka mēre: You are so beautiful little one

Ao drējī issi vēttan syt issa: You truly are made for me

Ao issi daor nykeā jaes kepus: You are not a god uncle

byka zaldrīzes: little dragon

Iksā ñuha ābrazȳrys. Iksā emare ñuha riña. Īlva riña. Iksi jāre lenton: You are my wife. You are having my child. Our child. We are going home.

Ao3 Link:

Tags:

@misssilencewritewell @parizparis @thanyatargaryen @i-love-morally-gray-characters @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @bubblebuttwade

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Yandere! Shinsuke Kita General Profile

Yandere! Shinsuke Kita x fem! reader

Tw: stalking, kidnapping, mild infantilization, one very brief mention of Shinsuke commenting on what you eat, spanking, mentions of non-con, mentions of assault, Stockholm Syndrome, forced motherhood, mentions of breeding, misogyny/traditional gender roles, Shinsuke wants to have a family with you and it's kind of sweet but it's mostly disturbing, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy! 

Because I've been kind of neglecting other fandoms besides hxh, have this peace offering <3

WC: 12K

DARLING PROFILE:

Responsible

Shinsuke is quite picky with those that he develops romantic attraction towards.

He has standards that are quite specific, and he’s unwilling to compromise on these requirements, even if his darling is perfect for him in every other possible way. He holds himself to a high standard, so it’s only fair to hold his beloved – an extension of him – to similar standards, right?

And one of these requirements is that his darling must have some level of responsibility, their personal sense of commitment and drive able to mirror his at least partially.

He’s not interested in dating a child at heart – he wants a partner, someone he can trust and love, and while he limits any hope of his darling ever having autonomy or free will, he likes to idea of them being able to take care of themselves.

He’ll always be there to protect and love them of course, and he doesn’t allow them to be in any position where they’d need to take care of themselves, but it’s still attractive to him.

He likes to know that they know right from wrong and know the consequences of their actions, particularly because he feels this is a necessity for a good mother. (And he’s sure his darling will be a good mother – they’re caring, warm, and they have the perfect body to carry his children, with a stomach he can’t wait to see grow and breasts he can’t wait to see fill and leak.)

And really, that’s the main reason behind this requirement of his - Shinsuke expects his beloved to mother a good number of his children; he’s hoping for a family of at least six, and he’s more than willing to give his darling more if they wanted.

It’s a massive relief for him to know that they’ll be able to care for their children, and themselves, in the event of an emergency. (He’ll never not be there, of course, but if – heaven forbid – something were to happen and he couldn’t protect those he loves most? Well, it would destroy him, but at least he’d know his darling is capable enough to keep them alive until Shinsuke can return to them.)

And so, while Shinsuke will always, always treat them with the level of care and patronizing patience that will make his darling feel inadequate and incapable, just know that he doesn’t feel that way – he loves his darling, and he thinks that their responsibility is extremely attractive.

It’s part of what makes them catch his eye initially, and Shinsuke is nothing is not a fan of consistency.

Sweet

Perhaps it’s a product of having grown up around the community that he did, but regardless, Shinsuke finds someone appealing about those who are genuinely kind and sweet.

It’s something he’s always liked, and although he isn’t exactly nice, Shinsuke likes to think of himself as a good person, as having good intentions and always giving others the benefit of the doubt.

And this mentality is extended towards his darling – he likes the idea of someone who is nice and friendly to those around them, just genuinely happy and kind, and who isn’t afraid to show off that kindness to the people they surround themselves with.

His favorite sound is his darling’s voice, and when they’re giving compliments or pairing a smile with some comment of how lovely the weather is or thanking Shinsuke for doing them a favor, not only is his heart racing – and his cock hardening – but his obsession is only solidifying, growing deeper and stronger, his desperation to have his darling all to himself becoming harder and harder to ignore.

He doesn’t necessarily believe in traditional gender roles, but he does like the idea of his darling being soft and sweet, someone warm and welcoming, and a sweeter darling would be the ultimate for him.

And he’ll return any kind words thrown his way with vigor – his darling compliments him on how nice his hair looks today? Immediately he’s smiling at them, telling them that they’re beautiful, my love, your hair looks lovely today as well.

His darling being sweet only plays into the fantasy he’s created of them – that they’re perfect but weak, someone that can be easily manipulated and exploited, and therefore it’s his job to step in and keep that from happening.

It’s his job to keep them safe and happy and protected, yes?

Smart

Shinsuke doesn’t handle stupidity well.

He’s blunt and it shows, because while he’s a patient man, he has very little tolerance for foolishness, or for purposefully stupid choices being made.

He holds nothing against those who aren’t as academically gifted as himself and others, but his preference leans more towards those who work hard, those who happen to have a certain area that comes very naturally to them.

To him, it shows integrity and a strong threshold for understanding; two things that make his partner seem absolutely irresistible, and if he could, he’d have conversations lasting for hours as his darling simply speaks to him, telling him all about this or that and absolutely gushing to him about whatever their particular knowledge and interests are.

He just likes to hear his darling’s ideas, finding each one important and worthy of giving his full attention, listening intently and asking questions, his eyes stuck staring at their face because god, they’re so beautiful when they’re speaking and visibly enjoying what they’re saying.

He wants to know that he can hold a conversation with his darling, that he doesn’t have to dumb himself down in order for them to understand him (this of course, does not stop him – he’s still patronizing to his darling regardless of their IQ, acting as if they’re incompetent and unable to perform even simple tasks, but still).

Shinsuke doesn’t need a genius of a darling, but someone who can hold their own immediately peaks his attention, if only because the idea of a smart, caring, kind woman is his ideal – perfect to keep by his side forever.

Push Over  

While all the other traits Shinsuke finds ideal in a darling are clear to him and things he takes no shame in, this one is something he isn’t really willing to fully admit to himself.

He’s got a strong, steady personality himself, and he’s headfast in his beliefs and values – he’s very difficult to sway, really, when the topic at hand directly contradicts something he considers as an immovable fact.

But while Shinsuke doesn’t let himself be swayed by others, having a darling that does would probably be likely – perhaps not by choice, but still something he’d find himself drawn to anyway.

He doesn’t necessarily understand why his partner allows others to treat them that way, to let others walk all over them and totally disregard what they want, but it angers him. It makes him livid.

It makes him so upset that while he’s mildly angry at his own darling for allowing this to happen, he makes it his sworn duty to put a stop to this, to stop allowing others to walk all over his beloved and taking advantage of them and using them.

 Of course, it’s a bit hypocritical of him, considering the fact that once his obsession with his darling forms, he’ll be telling them what they can and can’t do and deciding everything for them. He’s the one in the driver’s seat when it comes to his beloved, making all the decisions from what they’ll be eating for breakfast to which panties they’ll be wearing today, but that’s not the point.

So yes, he’ll teach his darling how to stand up for themselves, how to put their own health and self above the needs of others, before he’ll absolutely crush any opportunity to let them practice their new skills - after all, Shinsuke’s word is final, no matter how hard they argue or beg. 

It’s just attractive, subconsciously, to have someone so weak willed and meallable – his darling needs someone like him, don’t they? They need someone to guide them, to make their decisions, to be a stabilizing force in their life that tells them exactly what they should do and how they should do it – and really, isn’t that love?

Isn’t that what a partnership, a relationship, is all about? Control, dominance, submission?

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Lucid

Shinsuke has impeccable self-control, and while this is still somewhat true when it comes to you, he lets himself be just a tad bit more lenient, giving himself just a bit more wiggle room where you’re concerned because denying himself of every little thing he wants from you would be torture. He’s aware that there’s something wrong with the way he feels for you. It’s not normal to be so dependent on another person, to be so simply aware of them.

He’s had crushes in the past, sure, but he’s never idly wondered what they’re doing at any particular moment, what they’re thinking, what they’re wearing, if they’re talking to another man. He’s not normally worrying if they’ve fallen or injured themselves because he knows they tend to be clumsy, especially if they’re looking at their phone.

He’s never felt this head over heels in love with someone before, and in many ways it scares Shinsuke. There’s something alarming about how he feels for you, and it terrifies him that he’s just always thinking of you, his every thought revolving around you you you, even if you aren’t in the room or he hasn’t seen your for days.

It’s painfully obvious to him; he’s always been good at digesting and analyzing his emotions, and everything he feels towards you is… questionable at best.

And yet, because Shinsuke has such good self control and self restraint, he’s actually able to hold himself back quite a bit in regards to many of the urges and desires he feels towards you. His heart demands him to run to you at any given moment, to simply wrap his arms around you no matter what you’re doing and trap you in a hug you’re much too weak to get out of.

But he stops himself, taking a deep breath and rationalizing that no, it’s not a good idea to sprint to your apartment and break in to simply hug you.

His heart is yearning for him to kiss you, to suck hickies into your neck until you’re a trembling mess under him, your face embarrassed and bashful as you stare at him, your chest heaving with your labored breaths.

He wants to, but he tells himself he can’t – not yet, not until you’ve kissed each other before, not until he’s given you sweet, sensual kisses that make your heart flutter – ones that are less imbued with passion and sexual tension, because it would be bad to scare you away.

(No matter how desperately he wants to rip off that pretty sundress of yours and bend you over and fuck you until you’re crying and screaming his name over and over -)

He wants nothing more than to keep you by his side at all times, to trail your every move and follow you like your shadow, just so he can protect you – but he decides against it, as it’s too likely you’ll notice and feel unsettled by the fact that he’s essentially stalking you. Shinsuke isn’t completely blinded by his love for you; it’s strong, incredibly difficult to ignore, but there’s still a sense of a moral compass that he feels despite his infatuation.

He doesn’t want to scare you, and he doesn’t want you to think of him in an ill light because of his rather bold desires – you’d think he’s crazy if he did even half of the things that he thinks about when he lays in bed at night, staring at his ceiling and wishing you were beside him, wrapped up in his arms and snuggled into his bare chest. Shinsuke knows this, and so he holds himself back from all of the creepy, disturbing things he knows he’s thinking – he won’t steal your clothing like he wants to, nor will he set up a security camera outside your bedroom door that he’ll use for much more than security surveillance purposes. He won’t; no, instead he channels all of the pent up jitters and anger from restraining himself into much more normal things.

You’ll discover very quickly with Shinsuke that while it’s not necessarily a bad thing, he’s much, much quicker to progress your relationship with him forward. He’s not waiting between steps – he’s pushing the pace at which the two of you move scarily fast, to the point that every major milestone that takes other couples years to achieve is done within the span of six months.

From the second you agree to go out to dinner with him, it will take less than a month for him to say he loves you. It’s romantic, at least; a candlelight dinner he made himself, his smoldering eyes staring at you so intensely you feel your whole soul is bared to him, his hands squeezing yours as he tells you matter of factly that he’s in love with you, and I have been for quite some time. I love you, my angel.

He’s proposing the two of you move in together much before you’re ready – you’ve only been dating for about three months. Though, with how often he invites you over to his place, you’re practically living in his house already, the rice fields surrounding it familiar and calming.

He’s quick to package up your belongings himself, labeling the cardboard boxes with an uncharacteristically bright smile across his face as he imagines exactly where each item of yours can go, his eyes scanning and memorizing every little thing he packs away because oh, he didn’t know you had this many bras – and this pink one he’s never seen before. Perhaps you were waiting to surprise him with it?

He’ll relent and let you have your own room in his house at first, though expect that to only last for a week or so – soon, you’ll be sleeping in the same bed every night, his hands firmly on your hips as he spoons you, his soft breath brushing the back of your neck with every exhale.

He’s dropping to one knee much too soon, that important question slipping from his lips as the pretty, silver ring is bared to your eyes – it’s got his initials on it, and he’s quick to tell you his own matching ring has yours.

(He’s already wearing his own ring, and you notice with a start that he has been for quite some time – maybe not on the right finger, but still.)

He’s giving a speech that’s surprisingly sentimental for him, tears even welling up in his eyes as he tells you how much you mean to him, how he couldn’t imagine his life without you, how he’d be a shell of the man he is now without you – all about five months after that first initial date.

And of course, Shinsuke doesn’t even feel like he needs to have the conversation about a family with you – it’s assumed you’ll bear his children, expected even.

He’s sure you’ll be a wonderful mother, and he’s always wanted to be a father, so don’t be too surprised when only a year after you agreed to go out with him he’s whisepering in your ear and caressing your growing stomach, murmuring about how he’s so lucky to have such a wonderful wife, and what I’m sure will be a wonderful baby boy.

So really, while Shinsuke isn’t especially impulsive in most ways regarding you (despite desperately, desperately wanting to be), all of that repressed drive to keep you his and only his is channeled in that your semblance of a normal relationship will be strained by his need for more. He needs to have a domestic life with you, to wake up to the smell of pancakes and bacon as you serve him breakfast in bed, kissing his cheek while you sit down beside him and watch him eat.

He needs to see you humming and doing the laundry in the basement, your fingers working deftly over the fabric as he hugs you from behind, smelling your hair deeply and sighing into your neck. He needs to stand beside you in the bathroom, looking at you in the mirror as he brushes his teeth, maybe even as he brushes your teeth.

So while Shinsuke is mostly a respectful yandere, he’s by no means simply rolling over to you – you will be his partner, wife, companion, and the sooner you accept that, the easier things will be for both yourself and Shinsuke.

After all, it’s so terrible when you fight, and aren’t things better when he’s caring for you, loving you and providing for you like a good husband should?

Protective

Shinsuke’s always naturally found himself falling into the role of a protector. He enjoys watching over others, making sure they’re staying healthy and safe, and this particular personality trait is present in every single relationship he has, whether it’s with family or friends.  

He’s stern, but his heart is pure gold when it comes to those he loves. Because of this, he’s developed a bit of a paranoia for those close to him getting hurt, just because he doesn’t like the idea of anyone he loves being injured or in pain.

And where you’re concerned is no different - in fact, it’s only worse, much more intense, if only because in Shinsuke’s mind you’re so fucking delicate, so fragile and doll-like with your beauty and personality that it makes him honestly fear for the worst whenever you’re alone and without his constant protection.

He’s with you, always – it’s harder to do this before he’s kidnapped you, but he’ll find a way to always just be idly near you, whether that’s inviting you over for the day, or ‘happening’ to run into you in town.  

It gets to the point where he won’t let you do anything on your own, no matter how trivial or important the task may be.

He’s by your side when you’re typing on the computer, making sure your hand doesn’t cramp up, and at the slightest grimace or flex of your fingers, he’s immediately taking your hand in his, gently massaging your fingers and staring into your eyes, telling you that you should be more careful, that Carpal Tunnel Syndrome is no joke.

He’s with you when you’re running errands - he has to make sure that no creeps follow you or take advantage of you, and it’s only right that he, as your future husband, takes on that responsibility of keeping you safe, right?

(Besides, he’ll push the cart for you, or reach to the highest shelf for you – even if you’re taller than him – or gently but firmly tell you that you don’t really need two sleeves of cookies, do you?)

He’s not letting you drive anymore, keeping you firmly away from your car and instead in his, the seatbelt suffocatingly tight around your body and his hand on your thigh so that you don’t feel scared when he’s on the freeway.

He’s only letting you wear clothing that covers your body to his standards – not because he thinks you should be covering up (he thinks your body is perfect, almost too perfect, if the way his cock springs to life at just one flash of it is anything to go by), but simply because he doesn’t want anyone to be staring at you or making crude comments.

And once you’re in the sanctity of his home, his overprotectiveness only increases. If you felt like he was controlling, suffocating in his endless stream of ‘let me do that for you - it looks sharp, and you and I both know how dangerous book corners can be’ before, it’s nothing compared to the way he acts once you’re forced to be with him at all times, stuck in the unmatched safety of his abode that he’s so graciously decided to share with you.

He’s with you while you’re sleeping, staring down at your unconscious figure while he caresses your cheeks and presses soft kisses to your forehead, to make sure you don’t get cold or choke in the middle of the night.

He’s there while you’re showering, standing outside the glass door with his eyes trained on your figure, the tent in his trousers not so subtle, to make sure that you don’t slip and fall or get shampoo into your eyes.

 Shinsuke has no shame in keeping an eye on you 24/7, and if you try to bring up how uncomfortable it makes you, how weird you think it is that he’s always there, he’ll just pat your head with a soft smile and say that it’s his job. He’s your protector, your provider, and he’ll always take care of you, whether you want it or not.

Besides, isn’t it romantic that he cares so much? His grandmother has always told him that women swoon at men who are masculine, but not terribly so – just enough to show that they’re capable of providing for their partner, but are still sweet and in touch with their emotions.

And surely, his grandmother must be right; after all, he managed to become friends with you, and Shinsuke’s relatively certain that you possess romantic feelings for him as well, if the way you get shy and flustered when he compliments you in that way too blunt tone of his means anything.

He likes the idea that he can be your protector, the one that makes sure you stay safe, healthy, and happy, and frankly Shinsuke is adopting this role even way before his feelings for you form. He likes the way you look at him with a soft smile after he helps you carry something heavy, your pretty eyes sparkling at him while you murmur a small thank you, Shin.

He likes the way you say his name when you’re on the phone with him, your voice sounding like chimes through the receiver as he sighs and closes his eyes, stopping whatever task he was in the middle of when the ringer went off. He’ll focus on the way your tone sounds, if you seem happy or sad, if you sound out of breath or like you’re struggling, and if he gets even the slightest hint that you may be doing something strenuous or challenging (or, heaven forbid, dangerous), Shinsuke is practically sprinting out the door, wanting to get to you as fast as possible as images of you falling, hurting yourself, breaking a bone, anything and everything flash through his mind.

He’ll show up at your door with his hair mussed up, his chest heaving, his brown eyes wide and staring at you impossibly, raking over every inch of you while fervent questions slip past his lips of are you alright? What have you been doing the last few minutes? Why did you not ask me to do it for you?

wants you safe and healthy and pristine, and that’s what he tells you when he’s tucking you into bed, pulling the sheet high around your shoulders (made of the softest cotton designed for newborn babies, of course, as he knows just how sensitive your perfect, warm skin is) while he pulls you tightly against his bare chest, not leaving any room for air between you as he leans down to deeply inhale the scent of your hair.

He’s constantly telling you how much you need him, how he’s the only one who can assure your safety and really truly care for you how you deserve. And in Shinsuke’s mind, you deserve the world - you’re his precious, perfect little darling, and he’s your strong, capable husband - it’s his duty to protect you, to shield you from the terrors of the world and to take care of you.

And really, when you see the muscles rippling along his back, the definition of his biceps as a result of years of volleyball and work on the farm, there isn’t a whole lot you can do to go against him. His protectiveness really does come from a good place – he wants to care for you and make sure you never have to lift a finger, and isn’t it romantic in its own way?

Isn’t it sweet how he’s always wanting to take care of you, how he’s going out of his way to check in on you (frequent, frequent calls and text messages asking you how you’re feeling, randomly showing up to your apartment with takeout in hand and a soft smile on his face, asking without really waiting for an answer whether you’d like to share dinner together)?

Shinsuke thinks this is both the quickest way to your heart, and the quickest way to placate the constant anxiety in his own heart about whether you’re okay, if you’re taking care of yourself. He just wants to be your lover and protector, so won’t you just let him?

Sure, you may feel incapable, his blunt tone and words making you feel useless, but he doesn’t mean it like that – can’t you tell? He sure hopes so, but at the end of the day it hardly matters; he’s sure you’ll fall in love with him eventually, because every woman wants a strong, caring, protective husband.

He’s sure of it.

Obsessive

Routine is an integral part of Shinsuke’s daily life, and despite the massive change of having you – his lover, partner, obsession, object of fascination – this still stands true.

He’s still a man of consistency, and while his rigid scheduling changes in the face of having you in his life, he’s still abiding by the principle of repetition. He’s extremely consistent in the way that he interacts with you; he’s always polite and chivalrous, being nothing short of a gentleman.

Consistent compliments will be coming your way no matter how often you dissuade them or ask Shinsuke to not embaress you so much. He’s telling you that your eyes are gorgeous, I always get so lost in them as he stares at you from across the table, his own food untouched in his bout of simply observing you.

He’s brushing his fingers over a strand of your hair and softly smiling at you, those cold gray eyes warming slightly as he murmurs out your hair is lovely, never cut it.

He’s rigid with the way he interacts with you, but this all lies from the desire to get to know you better, to learn every detail he possibly can. It’s like a puzzle to him; the more he learns, the more he’s able to treat you like you deserve, the greater his resivoir of knowledge about you grows.

 He needs to know everything he possibly can in order to make you happy, to be the best possible partner, and is that really such a crime? Is it such a bad thing that he wants to make you happy, to make sure you never worry again, that your pretty head can stay happy, carefree, so very in love?  

His obsessiveness comes from a good place, truly, which is why he wants to know everything possible. What position do you fall asleep in, and do you move around in your sleep?

 (This knowledge will help him practice cuddling his own pillow, getting familiar with falling asleep in the position that would perfectly aid the way you naturally fall asleep, so that once you’re sharing the same bed every night the both of you can be as comfortable as possible, and therefore receive the best sleep possible.)

What are your dreams for the future?

(It brings a small blush to his pale cheeks to imagine you wanting him in your ideal future, wishing you’d say something along the lines of wanting a modest family and a quiet, calm life, one full of love and quiet stability. It makes Shinsuke excited, because that’s exactly what he can give you – that, and so much more – though, he’ll have too work on that ‘modest family’ a bit; you’ll be having at least four of his children.)

 How heavy and how long are your periods?

(He’s stocking up on appropriate supplies, reading up on strategies to help alleviate cramps, the best foods to eat while menstruating, what kind of music and programming is best to relax you, what kind of sweets to indulge you with when you’re particularly clingy and depenent on him – something he’s much too stoic to admit he’s very much looking forward to.)

 What keeps you up at night?

(Learning your greatest fears will give him not only a better understanding of you, but also set Shinsuke up for success in calming you down when you wake from nightmares, giving you comforting, lulling words and letting you cry into his chest while he runs his hands along your back, whispering praises and soft nothings as you try to calm down, his own heart hammering in his chest because god, he can feel every inch of you pressed against him like this.)

Shinsuke can and will learn it all, and he’ll remember every last detail to the tee, ingraining it into his brain because all he can think about half the time is you, and he needs material to work with.

He’ll pull random facts out of his back pocket, especially early into his obsession with you; things like your favorite foods and colors, little stories you’ve told him in passing that you don’t expect anyone to remember, small things that make you blink and stare at him in slight shock, flattered because why did he remember something so small and trivial?

It’ll shock you, but it’ll make you feel good, because you’ve never had someone pay as close attention to you as he does, and isn’t it flattering to know that Shinsuke Kita, a man with muscle, smarts, and integrity, cares about little old you?

Even if you aren’t initially romantically interested in him, this particular habit will have that slowly changing, until you reach the point that you’re willing to give him a chance, because it’s the least you could do, right?

But while this habit starts off sweet and romantic, as his relationship and infatuation with you progress, he’ll slowly start mentioning more and more of the things you’ve told him – except, you’re pretty sure you’ve never told him where you keep that extra stash of cash in your bedroom for emergencies.

You don’t think you’ve ever mentioned to him about the order with which you get dressed, or how long it normally takes you. He’ll start casually mentioning things you know you haven’t shared with him, and you’ll slowly begin questioning how he knows everything.

You’ll more likely than be wondering how the hell he knows how many pillows you sleep with at night, but while this may initially concern you, there’s something so calming about Shinsuke, something that’ll just have you shaking it off as something you must have mentioned off handedly, and that Shinsuke just has a really good memory.

And for a while, it works - you start forgetting about how strange it is that the gray haired boy knows so much about you; but once you wake up in his basement, laying atop a soft mattress with nice, wrinkle free sheets waiting underneath your body (that’s been changed into a clean, white pair of pajamas you’re sure aren’t your own) and Shinsuke himself holding you against his chest, telling you to rest and take it easy because the drug is still in your system, you can’t keep brushing it off.

Because once he’s mentioning facts you’ve never disclosed to anyone (like the number of various moles on your body or that you always think of a certain fantasy when you masturbate), you’ll have to recognize the fact that you should’ve known.

You should’ve seen the signs, not laughed off his more questionable behavior, because now that he’s got you stuck with him forever, there’s absolutely nothing you can do.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Because of Shinsuke’s views on life and how he perceives his belongings and others, jealousy is something he is not accustomed to.

Before you, he didn’t really understand the concept - you should be grateful for what you have, not envious of those around you for their own belongings. Frankly, he thought extreme jealousy was a sign of a lesser man – ungrateful, selfish, and overall an unpleasant person.

He strived to never feel jealous in any capacity, and for the most part he managed - however, once you enter the picture, his maturity and principled thoughts of gratitude fly out the window.

There’s this ugly feeling that grows in his chest when he thinks about you interacting with another man who intends to court you. It’s suffocating, the way the feeling spreads from his stomach up into his throat, making his mouth feel puffy and swollen, his fingers flexing and clenching, his every muscle tightening as he clenches his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. It’s overwhelming, the way his head begins to ache, his toes feeling numb while his palms grow sweaty and clammy. It makes him physically shake, the feeling so, so very unpleasant, to the point that it makes him feel physically sick and simultaneously enraged.

Once he recognizes what this feeling is, shame crawls through him, along with confusion. Is this jealousy? Why is it so strong?

Frankly, his mounting jealousy towards other men you spend time with is one of the first signs that alerts Shinsuke that there’s something wrong about he’s feeling for you. Sure, jealousy is normal for romantic relationships, but this?

This isn’t like what he’s heard described – this is strong, raw, overwhelming. It’s hard to think of anything except his anger, like it’s drowning him – and Shinsuke doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like that he can’t stop feeling it, that the sinking feeling only gets worse and worse the longer he watches another man interact with you, the longer he doesn’t step in and do something, anything.

He’s immediately getting pissed the moment he sees another man even coming close to you – he knows what kinds of thoughts they have when they see someone as pretty and innocent looking as you, what kind of sick, depraved, monstrous thoughts are running through their minds when they see a gorgeous woman like you – a woman who’s walking all alone, with no one there to ward off any unwelcome attention.

He knows they’re thinking about hot your body is, how soft and good it would feel to fondle you – and how you look weak enough to not be able to fight them.

They’re thinking about your pretty chest, likely imagining the way your tits would bounce as they fuck into your with careless abandon.

They’re probably staring at your ass, seeing the way it sways as you walk, imagining how you’d look on your hands and knees, pretty hole presented so perfectly to lick and finger.

They’re probably licking their lips at the sight of your legs, perfect to throw over their shoulders and grasp as they pound into you hard enough to get you seeing stars.

He knows they’re thinking about getting you to go out with them, romancing you and getting you drunk so you’re your guard is let down, so that you’re agreeing to everything and spreading your legs for them like some common whore –

(Shinsuke knows all of this because they’re all thoughts he’s had, too – except the difference between him and them is that he loves you, so it’s different. It’s different when he fantasizes about fucking your throat, or when he imagines the way the soft globes of your ass would feel against his palms. It’s different when he’s the one imagining taking you out on a nice date, the wine tasting good but the anticipation of getting you naked and writhing underneath him later tasting even sweeter. It’s different, because Shinsuke needs you – not only sexually, but just you.)

Honestly, at first he isn’t even sure why he’s feeling jealous - you spend time with the farmer himself and give him your attention, so why is he feeling this way?

Why does he feel so horribly inadequate when he sees another man around you that’s a bit more handsome than him, more social or funnier?

He’s not sure, and that itself angers him too, combining with the jealousy to form an enraged, insecure mess.

 But once he sees the man gently place a hand on your shoulder while laughing with you, it all makes sense. He’s angry because that piece of shit is touching what’s his, tainting someone as perfect and wonderful as yourself.

He’s mad that this man has the audacity to simply touch you, to invade your personal space and claim your attention as his own, to put those filthy hands on your body and make you scared and confused and in need of Shinsuke to swoop in and save you.

He’s infuriated that this stranger seems to think of you so familiarly, and if he’s willing to laugh with you, what else is he wanting to do with you? And to you?

And really, how can Shinsuke just stand by and allow you to be taken advantage of by this son of a bitch?

He tends to jump to the worst possible conclusion, automatically suspicious of anyone who approaches you, and while it’s out of character, he’s not really willing to give anyone benefit of the doubt.

He knows he needs to do something, that he’d be a poor excuse of a man to call himself your protector if he’s simply watching you walk into a situation in which you’ll end up bruised, hurt, crying, or any number of horrible outcomes that he can stop.

So, he’ll clench his jaw, stare at the offending man, and roll up his sleeves. He’s not letting you be stolen from him. 

Because Shinsuke doesn’t have much experience being jealous of other men in a romantic context, he’s at first at a bit of a loss on how to terminate the situation he’s presented with; there’s a man you’re talking to, his blue eyes staring at you just a bit too intensely. Shinsuke is sure he has bad intentions; there’s no way he’s not imagining ripping your clothes off and fucking you until you’re sobbing.

There’s no way he’s not planning moves to get you totally at his mercy, wanting to make you emotionally dependent on him so that he can string you along and leave you a sobbing, broken mess, your heart in tatters and likely your bank account, too.

He’s absolutely sure that’s where this man’s intentions are, and yet you’re just laughing with him, entertaining his horrible jokes. Why don’t you laugh with Shinsuke like that?

Why don’t you smile at him so widely, your laugh ringing in his ears until he thinks he’s in heaven?

It’s not fair, and this feeling of inadequacy combined with his rage at the man trying to take advantage of you has his feet moving before his mind can catch up.

His usual method of dealing with rivals for your love and attention is to simply play off of his natural strengths - although he isn’t the tallest man in the world, his aura and muscles are enough to give anyone a small shiver up their spine, and those cold brown eyes of his are capable of staring right through the soul. Years of working the farm has made every muscle in his body stand out, his biceps defined enough to have visible lines.

(Besides, as he marches towards you, he thanks himself for having asked Osamu and Aran for advice on how to deal with jealousy - they’d both separately looked at him a bit puzzled, before telling him to just be yourself, when you’re mad there’s nothing scarier. Shinsuke had cocked a brow and wanted them to elaborate, but neither man was willing to and instead changed the topic of conversation towards something more light hearted – something that wouldn’t get them lectured.)

He’ll nearly running up the two of you, standing next to you and just completely staring the man down - his gaze will hold such judgement, such discontent that the stranger will likely falter, unsure of why he’s being so silently aggressive.

In Shinsuke’s defense, the man had been staring at your body for far too long – and subtly, too, in ways he’s sure you must not have noticed.

He was licking his lips and stealing glances at your chest, your top being just slightly revealing today, and Shinsuke will be damned before he let some digusting pervert ogle your body, to objectify you so unabashedly.

Shinsuke’s arm will wrap around your waist, pulling you into his side as he continues to stare, not letting the stranger have a moment of reprieve while you watch in confusion, unsure of what’s happening or why Shinsuke is being so touchy.

When the man stops speaking to you and instead just simply stares, Shinsuke will turn to you and politely ask about your day, acting like the same traditional, courteous man you know.

He’s completely ignoring the other man, pretending as if he doesn’t exist, and in many ways Shinsuke wishes he could just forget about the stranger.

You’re so pretty like this, looking at him and only him, but once you answer with a ‘good, how about yourself’ in an unsure voice, a strange glint will cross his eyes as he glances at the man standing awkwardly in front of you.

He’ll respond with how his day was going wonderfully, until he stumbled upon this man wasting your time, wasting your energy and patience.

It’s rude, shockingly blunt even for Shinsuke, and before you have a chance to be offended and protest the horrible treatment, the man in question just gapes, before apologizing and scampering off.

And before you can get your tongue working to ask him what the hell that was all about, Shinsuke will smile softly, telling you to follow me, there’s a lovely café down the street; you like crepes, yes? I’ve heard they have the best in town; my treat.

Because when Shinsuke wants to be intimidating, he’s very successful - who would want to cross someone who’s stare is so intense?

Who would want to argue with such confident words, his tone of voice belittling and so honest?

And even if you scold him for being so blunt and rude, he’ll take it all in stride - he can always fall back on the social awkwardness card, claiming that it’s simply how he is, and why are you trying to change him?

He’s not trying to guilt you as he blankly looks at you and explains that it’s just how he is; he’s being honest, really, and in a lot of ways Shinsuke can’t understand why you don’t seem to see the issue with another man trying to steal you away.

Can’t you tell that Shinsuke loves you?

He puts his all into making sure it’s plain as day, because it’s all worth it to have your attention back on him, your eyes looking up at his own and your body facing his. It’s all worth it to keep you away from the prying eyes and fingers of other men who would just hurt you and ruin you, things that Shinsuke would never do.

Because really, to Shinsuke anything is worth it so that you stay focused on him, just as you should be.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Because Shinsuke airs on the more lucid side of things, he knows rationally that kidnapping you is wrong. It goes against everything he wants your relationship to be – natural, passionate, loving and consensual.

Of course, the idea is tempting - very, very much so. It’s so tempting, in fact, that he’d be a liar to say he hasn’t imagined it in vivid detail.

He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t love the concept of you living under the same roof, the lock on the door always set so that you stay in the house, pretty and accounted for while you cook, clean, draw, anything your little heart desires.

He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t vividly imagined the way seeing all of your belongings mixed together makes his heart swell – your toothbrushes laying side by side (perhaps you’d even share one – just the thought gets his cheeks flushing pink), or your clothes hanging up in the same closet (ideally you’d be wearing his clothes, but he understands that your physiques are different – and you’d look pretty in a few dresses with pretty flower patterns, wouldn’t you?)

He’d be wrong to say he hasn’t daydreamed about falling asleep with you in his arms, content with the knowledge that you can’t leave the house, and therefore you’ll be there when he wakes up – perhaps you’ll be in the kitchen making breakfast (doubtful, considering Shinsuke always wakes up before you), or maybe you’ll be in the bathroom, washing your face and wiping away the sleepiness from your eyes (he wishes you’d let him do that for you – you’re so cute when you’re all glossy eyed and sleepy, the remnants of the night still visible in the way you smile so softly at him, the imprints of the pillow and sheets against your cheeks).

He’d be a liar to say he hasn’t imagined the way you’d look so pretty perched on the armchair in the living room, a pair of knitting needles in your hands as you make him a brand new scarf for the upcoming winter, made of your favorite color (now his favorite, as well).

All the while, he’d be outside working the farm, perhaps in town selling his wares, only to come home to you, who’d of course be so overjoyed to greet him because he’s the only other person you ever see anymore, excitedly showing off your nearly finished scarf, telling him you’re knitting your love into it as well, so that he’ll never be cold in his heart because you’ll always be with him.

After a long day of working in the fields and then running errands, you’ll welcome him home with a smile and kiss to his cheek, asking how his day went at work. You’ll help him shrug his jacket off, laughing lightly when he mentions something about a group of rowdy kids in town nearly knocking him over while he was hauling his bags down the street.

Dinner is already in the oven, waiting and staying warm until he’s ready to eat. The food is delicious when you both sit down, the tofu hamburger (his favorite) sitting oh so perfectly on his plate as he places his hands together, praying to the Gods and thanking them for this meal, and more importantly thanking them for you. Shinsuke’s appreciative hums and small compliments are enough to have you beaming, pride swelling in your chest because he likes your food, and you strive to make him happy.

The night will culminate in perhaps reading together on the sofa, then making your way to bed where he’ll either snuggle you up tightly in his arms under the thickest wool blankets, or he’ll kiss you and caress your sides, his kisses going lower and lower until you’re grasping onto the sheets while he tells you in that low, raspy voice he gets when he’s aroused that perhaps it’s time you had a rowdy kid of your own.

It’s a fantasy, but despite how appealing it all sounds – having you permanently in his home, that is – Shinsuke knows he shouldn’t.

You’d hate him if he were to do that. Every fiber of your being would resent him, the man that stole you away from your life and trapped you by his side.

No, he could never set himself up to be in a position where you’ll so easily dislike him, even though it makes his chest ache every moment that you’re not together.

And so, Shinsuke won’t not kidnap you – frankly, you’re most likely already living with him at this point, and he’s all but forcing you to stay home – he’ll convince you to quit your job, to instead let him provide for you, to stop worrying about things like independence and being a ‘burden’ to him. He has to be careful and tread lightly, though, because if you were to realize what he’s trying to do – limiting your time in the outside world, that is – you’d be upset, and then Shinsuke would have to resort to some unsavory methods to get you permanently by his side, just where you belong.

And so, he won’t explicitly kidnap you - with the one, very large caveat of you getting into a life-threatening situation. If your life were at risk, then the farmer would throw all caution to the wind, rationalizing that even though you may hate him for the rest of your life, it’s better than having your pretty body lifeless, your blood smeared on the sidewalk, your eyes empty and your fingers cold.

And so, when the car swerves and manages to hit you, your scream of pain before you black out has Shinsuke’s heart dropping, his own scream echoing past his lips as he holds you in his arms, the nearest hospital not nearly close enough.

He’ll let you recover at the local hospital, coming to visit you everyday until you’re safe enough to return home – except, that home you’re imagining?

Well, even as much as it pains Shinsuke to mention, you won’t be seeing those familiar walls ever again – your new home is him, and he’ll make sure you grow to love it.

You have to love it.

As a captor, Shinsuke isn’t too terrible - if you can get over the fact that he’ll never leave you alone and that he’ll be doing absolutely everything for you in fear that you’ll hurt yourself, then life under his rule will be good.

He hovers over you constantly, letting you know that he’s there and ready to protect you should the need arise, and while it’s absolutely suffocating, at some point down the road you’ll almost find it endearing how much he cares.

Because really, even when he’s got you trapped in the separate apartment shed out in the corner of the farm (where he compromises on letting you reside if he’s taken you because of unforeseen circumstances, and you’re not quite at the stage he needs you to be in order to force you into sharing his bed or letting him hold you at night), he’s so very attentive to your every need.

He’s constantly checking in that you’re warm enough, that you’ve eaten enough, that you’re happy. (That last one always makes you angry when he asks, yelling at him and crying because of course you’re not happy, but he’ll only watch in silence, disappointment in your behavoir and guilt sitting heavy in his stomach – maybe tomorrow when he asks you’ll give a better answer, one that he can stomach and one he likes. Eventually you will – eventually you’ll grow to love him, the Stockholm Syndrome kicking in because he’s all you have left.)

Shinsuke just wants you to feel safe and protected, and if you can get past how many locks are on the door, how there’s nothing in the entire space that could cut through skin, and that his chocolate eyes are always on you, you may even find yourself falling for him.

After all, with every blunt compliment he sends your way (‘your hair needs to be cut - there are many split ends, although it is still quite beautiful’) and every caring coo he sends your way while you sob in his arms, your walls of defense and hate towards him will slowly crumble. Because if you’re stuck here, living out the rest of your life with a man who is absolutely obsessed with you and your future together, there isn’t much you can do besides just let it happen.

And Shinsuke couldn’t be happier. And in the meantime, as you slowly become defenseless against his consistent, oddly undeniable charms, Shinsuke will be trying everything he can possibly think of to win you over.

He’s getting advice from his grandmother (disguising the kidnapping as helping you recover from a car wreck, which gets her tutting and pulling him into a hug, telling him he’s so sweet, she’ll surely love you after you take care of her).

He’s buying you flowers regularly, all in shades that remind him of you. There’s roses, tulips, dahlias, baby’s breath, anything he thinks looks pretty – you’ll find them in a vase on your nightstand, a crisp, white card tucked beside the clear glass of the vase with your name scribbled across it. It’s predictably not long considering it’s from Shinsuke, though the words are precise, meaningful, telling you that he saw these today and they reminded me of you. Perhaps when you’re feeling better we can go and see the flowers together – I’d like very much to take some photographs of you surrounded by the wildlife.

A shiver will run down your spine at the prospect of him photographing you – you’ve seen peeks of the collection of photographs he has, all candids in which you’re unaware of the lens pointed at you, taken with the mental justification that since you’re not naked or doing something extremely personal, it’s not wrong for him to take them.

(At least, that’s what he tells himself – you’d argue that brushing your teeth is personal, that sleeping is very intimate, but Shinsuke begs to differ – besides, you were just too fucking cute to not photograph all drooly and softly snoring.)

He’s bringing home your favorite candies, because while he still feeds you a steady stream of healthy, balanced meals, he likes the way your face lights up when you see the chocolates, how you look at him with a small smile when he tells you that he thought you might enjoy them, and you’ve been very good lately; you deserve a reward.

Shinsuke just wants to woo you, and while he may still be rigid, a bit unapproachable, frankly a bit scary with the way he simply stares, eventually you’ll become used to it, his doting actions becoming familiar.

You’ll accept the way he’s tucking you into bed, laying and arm around your waist as you pulls you into his chest, his soft voice telling you to sleep well my love, I’ll see you in the morning.

You’ll grow used to the way there’s a piping hot breakfast laid out on the table when you wake up, steam still coming off the eggs even after Shinsuke has left for work, the fields taking him away from you.

(His thoughts are still revolving entirely around you as he works, however – thinking of your pretty smile, your voice on a loop in his head, the way you say his name, imagining what it would sound like to hear you say I love you…)

Shinsuke is a determined man, and while he may be a bit guarded and set in his ways, you’ll eventually grow used to being treated as if you were incapable – it’s coming from a place of love after all, and isn’t that just so sweet?

 Isn’t it kind that he wants to spoil you, make sure you never have to worry about a thing, make sure you can never hurt yourself again?

PUNISHMENTS:

Because Shinsuke is more lucid than anything, punishments are not something that occur frequently.

He doesn’t like the idea of disciplining you in a negative way; sure, when you act out, something must be done in consequence, but there’s something about the prospect of purposefully hurting you that makes Shinsuke feel sick, his stomach twisting in knots.

He doesn’t want to punish you – he doesn’t like the idea of harming you in any way, but he can be swayed to, begrudgingly, reprimand you for your poor behavior.

It’s got to be something large that drives him to these measures, however; the strongest trigger for him is any attempt by you to escape.

It’s not even that he’s angry with you -  he is, of course. Furious, even. But really, what drives him to overcome his own mental blocks against harming you is the prospect of you running off into the big, wide world, without any money, orientation of where you are, who you are, what you need.

He’s scared you’ll be taken advantage of; maybe some strange, nefarious man will pick you up as a hitchhiker, taking one look at your shivering, unarmed form and decide you’d be the perfect target.

Maybe some truck will drive by you, speeding so fast they don’t even see your figure until it's too late and there’s a horrible thud and suddenly there’s only blood –

Just the prospect is enough to get Shinsuke’s eyes wide and watery, a hand clutching at his shirt above his heart, his knees shaking because he absolutely cannot have that happen.

He has to protect you, and if you just run off like that, how can he?

He doesn’t want you to hate him – he’s sure you already do, what with him kidnapping you, but he doesn’t want to make your opinion of him worse. Just the mere thought keeps him up at night, his eyes fixed on you as he holds you in his arms, his thumb tracing your cheekbone as he tries to devise ways to make you understand the gravity of your actions without you being harmed.

He considers all kinds of possibilities – isolating you, locking you up in the basement with a bit of food and water so you can reflect on what you’ve done. He ultimately decides against this, though, because he worries you won’t actually eat or drink anything without him there to watch you and force you to.

He considers restricting your access to your hobbies or things to keep you from growing bored while he’s working. It would leave you to, once again, reflect on your poor behavior, and would force you to wait anxiously for his return, because at least then you’ll have something to entertain you, even if it’s your captor. He decides against it, though, because he doesn’t like the idea of you withering away all day, growing bored to the point of insanity, even if it means you’ll willingly hug him and beg him to talk about his day.

He even considers threatening someone you love – it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, both because he doesn’t approve of violence, and because he wants your family to approve of him. (You won’t get to see them much, anyways, but maybe after you’ve accepted your role, accepted him, he’ll let you attend some family functions, introducing him as your husband and gushing to your mother about how perfect he is.)

It’s a fine line to walk, and eventually Shinsuke will sigh and give up, deciding that there really is no way for him to get the point across and still look like the good guy.

He has to be firm about any sort of discipline regarding your negative actions; he’ll look weak if he doesn’t, and having a weak resolve on punishing you will allow you to act up more, will make you more willing to defy him, to try and escape, to hurt yourself, to do all manners of things that make Shinsuke’s heart race in a horrible way.

He has to present himself as the man in charge – he calls the shots, and while he appreciates your input in telling him what you want and how you’re feeling, ultimately Shinsuke knows best. Because while he very much feels that women are equal to men, there’s something about you that makes him pause for a moment, the old stereotypes of men taking care of women seeming oddly appealing.

Because really, isn’t this how nature intended things to be? For him to be in charge, to love you and care for you and know what’s best for you?

Eventually he’ll begin to think that way, and while some small part of him knows it’s wrong to be in such control of your life, Shinsuke can’t find it in himself to care – how can he, when he’s got you by his side, so sweet and pretty as you eat the food he cooked you, sleep in his arms, in his sheets, in his bed?

So really, while Shinsuke is lenient in most every way regarding punishments, if you cross him he will meet your actions with consequences – consequences that leave you sore and unable to sit for a few days, just to remind you of what you’ve done.

He��s had a long day – the rice fields were scalding today, leaving his skin burnt and his agitation levels high.

He’d slipped and gotten mud all over his clothing, leaving him feeling sticky and sweaty and wanting nothing more than to shower and settle down beside you on the couch, a book shared between the two of you as you read and he plays with your fingers. He smiles at the thought – you always smell like vanilla and honey, curtesy of the shampoo he’d gotten you, and he can almost smell it now as he unlocks the front door, swinging it open with a new spring in his step.

And then he’s immediately freezing, his brown eyes narrowing as he takes in the sight before him.

You’re standing there, gaping at him with wide eyes and trembling hands, a paperclip grasped between your fingers. It’s been bent as straight as you could manage, the very tip of it dented and split, as if you’ve been shoving it in something, turning and twisting and forcing–

 It all becomes very clear suddenly; you’re trying to escape. You were taking advantage of the fact that he was working today, that he’d be back in the fields, busy and unable to notice you sneaking away, leaving him, and you were going to run.

Everything is silent and still for a moment, his eyes boring into yours as his lips parting slightly, this kicked, hurt look in his eye that makes you cower ever so slightly, this weird, unplaced sort of shame settling in your gut.

But then he’s suddenly springing forward, arms wrapping around your waist before you can even yelp, the paperclip slipping from your fingertips as he drags you further into the house.

You’re kicking, flailing and feeling tears already slipping down your cheeks, the door getting further and further away, and along with it, your chance at freedom. Shinsuke grits his teeth, the sound of you crying making his heart ache, but the overwhelming sense of anger and betrayal is too strong to ignore. You were trying to leave him.

You were to trying to run away, to get away from him, to never have to see him again and leave him alone, cold, lonely, missing you so desperately it would kill him. His muscles are firm, hard, and even as you push against him, trying to drag your feet or pry his arms off of you, you don’t make so much as a budge.

The mud caked into his working cloths gets onto you, the pretty loungewear set he’d bought you (in your favorite color, of course) now stained a dirty, sludgy brown. Soon he pushes you down onto the couch in the living room, with a force you’ve never felt from him before.

You land with a soft cry, bouncing a bit on the couch, before scrambling away from him, trying to put distance between the two of you. The action only furthers the sense of hurt he’s nursing, and his lips quirk down as he stares at you.

You were attempting to escape. His words aren’t a question, so you don’t answer.

He stares at you for a beat more, before swallowing harshly and sitting down on the end of the couch. You watch with baited breath and confusion, anxiety prickling in your stomach because you’ve never seen him this angry before, and it scares you.

But then he’s reaching out and wrapping his fingers around your ankle, yanking and sending you falling towards him, your lands reaching out to press against his thighs to catch yourself. Behave, he warns you as he shuffles you further up, so that your pelvis is pressed against his thighs, laying across his lap.

His words have you frozen in place, and although you’ve never really considered the possibility of him physically harming you, there’s something about the way he’s breathing uneven and the harsh way he handles you that has you wondering if that’s a real concern.

He’s always treated you like you’re made of glass – gentle and breakable, but with the way his fingers dig into the waistband of your shorts and pull, ripping the material right down the middle, Shinsuke’s a totally different person. He’s a stranger as he repeats the action with the pretty purple underwear stretched across your ass, and for a moment you wonder if perhaps physical harm isn’t the worst of your concerns – you’d be helpless if he decided he wants what’s in between your legs, thoroughly unable to do a thing to stop him.

But luckily, Shinsuke isn’t that much of a monster, and instead he’s resting a hand on your ass. His hand is dirty, and you feel the film of dirt and plant debris and mud sitting against your skin.

You were attempting to escape, he repeats, and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. What was your plan? Do you know where you are? Who would you have contacted, and how? You have no money, and all your relatives and friends think you’ve shunned them. Who would help you?

You freeze at his words, an uncomfortable feeling settling in the back of your throat because he’s right.

It’s reckless and stupid to rush into a situation that you haven’t planned for. You’re being careless; this is why I can’t trust you to be alone yet. You make poor decisions, and now you’ll be punished for them.

Suddenly, his hand is coming down, a harsh, loud smack ringing through the living room as his palm makes contact with your bare ass cheek. It makes you cry out – it hurts, his strength surely leaving your ass sore, and distantly you think back to all those videos you’d seen of his high school years playing volleyball. You can’t get too lost in thought, though, because his hand comes down again, not giving you a second to think.

This is why you need me. You aren’t capable of making good decisions on your own; you need someone to watch over you.

Smack.

I protect you.

Smack.

I provide you with a warm house, food, and love.

Smack.

You are ungrateful; I’ve taught you to be better.

Smack.

I’m disappointed in you; eventually you will be happy with me. You’ll eventually love me, and you’ll be happy here. With me.

Smack.

Stop trying to fight fate; you’ll never win.

Smack.

The spanking is quick, only taking roughly a minute from start to finish, but it feels like a lifetime to you. Your ass is sore, bruises already forming, and as Shinsuke rests his hand on your upper thigh, you can’t help the tears slipping down your cheeks.

The sight of your shoulders shaking and your sniffles makes Shinsuke bite his lip, eyebrows drawing inward because god, seeing you cry is so fucking painful, but he steels himself. This was necessary, inevitable – you don’t understand just what he can provide you, yet.

You don’t understand just what he can give you, yet.

You don’t understand just how much he can love you, yet.

But you will, he’s sure of it – and so as he steps into the shower, having settled you onto the bed, laying on your stomach with an icepack resting on your ass and a blanket thrown over you, he’s nodding his head at himself in the mirror.

You don’t understand that this is for the best yet – but as you avoid escaping in the future, too scared of this new side of Shinsuke, he’ll be pleased.

The longer you stay with him, the more you’ll come to realize that he treats you well – or at least, as well as he can, given the unhealthy nature of his feelings.

You’ll realize how much he does for you – he could’ve done much, much worse than simply spank you, and eventually you will recognize that.

You’ll come to understand that while he’s forcing you to stay with him, to be his housewife and start a family with him, he does genuinely love you. It’s twisted, sick, too much, but Shinsuke is consistent, steady.

You will bend to him, he's sure it. You will love him, even if you don’t believe it yet.

OVERALL DANGER:

6/10

At his core, Shinsuke does love you in some strange, perverse way – he’s enamored with you, obsessed in every possible way, and although he tries to control himself and fight the way his heart pounds and hammers and nearly bursts when you look at him, smile at him, touch him, he’s a lost cause.

He’s not particularly dangerous, despite the depth of his feelings for you – he mostly just wants you to be safe and sound at all times, completely removed form the possibility of hurting yourself, wanting to make sure that you’re taken care of and properly attended to so that you never, ever want for anything. He wants to spoil you, to keep you as his little housewife that he can come home to and kiss and hold, his sweet little thing that enjoys living a quiet, peaceful life with him.

He wants to live out the perfect domestic fantasy with you – he’ll be your hardworking husband, working long hours in the rice fields to provide food and money for you, while you stay inside and cook and clean, your belly swollen and a baby nursing at your breast, your smile wide and pretty and all for him.

 He just thinks you’re perfect in every possible way, and although he wants your relationship to be as normal as possible, his overprotective tendencies will bar that from ever happening.

It’s not normal to not allow you near anything sharp; you’re a fully grown woman, capable of handling a razor or a knife.

(Once he trusts you enough to actually chop things, you’ll be getting a dull chopping knife under the strict stipulation that if you get injured in any way, you will not be given another opportunity to chop things for yourself for quite some time – the next few months will see Shinsuke on chopping duty, while you watch him and see the way his forearms flex and compliment him because you’re a very good cook, dear.)

It’s not normal for him to always be staring at you, those brown eyes fixed on your form like a moth to a flame, always always always watching and observing, making you feel like you’re under a microscope with how his gaze breaks you apart.

Shinsuke is scary, sure, but eventually you’ll come around to him – he’s steady and consistent, and although he’s uprooted you from your life and keeps you trapped in his home, he’s oddly sweet. His blunt compliments take a while to get used to, but his touch is soft and firm, the way he holds you is comforting, and sometimes, when the lighting is just right, he even looks handsome.

Eventually, you’ll become a victim of Stockholm Syndrome, and you may even find yourself slowly returning his feelings – after all, he really does take care of you, doesn’t he?

Doesn’t he pay more attention to you than any man has before, and doesn’t he know you better than even you know yourself? Maybe he’s right; maybe you are meant to be his wife, the mother of his children, and maybe you really will be happy like he keeps promising – life can’t be that bad with him, right?

After all, you’ll never have to worry about anything you did before he came along – money, a job, strangers, anything of the sort. He’ll take care of all of it, so just smile at him and let him kiss you – it’s the least you can do, after all he’s done for you.

[afterair]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃

DIABOLIK LOVERS + INTRODUCTION.

 ❬ WORD COUNT: ❭ 3000

❬ WARNINGS: ❭ Mention of sexual and mental abuse , neglect , manipulation , experimentation , human sacrafice and metaphorical mentions / canon backstory of the Sakamaki household : all information gathered from anime , games and wikipedia.

sakamaki - ' reverse winding '

EVE / THE CHURCH BRIDE

' 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄. 𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒, 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄. 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐒𝐎 𝐈 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄 '

𝐊𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐈 ⎯⎯ ( 小森 ユイ )

' Komori Yui ' , the last known ( living ) sacrificial bride , ' Eve '

She was bought to the Sakamaki household at Karlheinz will , he wishes for her to choose one of his sons to become Adam - later killing him and becoming the king and queen of the demonic world.

a short young women with curly platinum blonde hair and sherbet-pink coloured eyes. Komori Yui is often seen wearing a button-up dress shirt with a frilly neckline with her black school blazer over the top , beneath her blazer is a white bow that rests through the V shaped neckline of the vest she wears with another bow coloured red , tied to her neck above the other bow.

Komori Yui can rarely be found by herself , even in the bathroom - there is a vampire on the other side waiting ( sometimes ) , but she can be found by following a vampire. At the Sakamaki mansion, she can be found in her bedroom or with a vampire. ( if in doubt , find a vampire )

Komori Yui is an extremely unlucky young woman. Komori Seiji is her adopted father , taking her in after being given to him by Sakamaki Richter - Karlheinz’s brother , Sakamaki Ritcher was also the lover of Cordelia and after her being pushed from the balcony , at her request : he cut out her heart and implanted it into the Eve. When Komori Yui was seventeen , she was told that her father was moving abroad and she was to be sent to Japan to live with another family , she later finds out that she was adopted when she finds Komori Seiji’s diary and , that she was given as a sacrifice.

Has multiple nicknames - is nicknamed by ,

Sakamaki Ayato , ' Pancake / Breastless ' : Chichinashi

Sakamaki Raito , ' Little Bitch ' : Bitch-chan

Mukami Ruki , ' Livestock ' : Kachiku

Mukami Kou , ' Masochistic Kitten ' : M Neko-Chan

Mukami Yuma , ' Sow ' : Mesubuta

Mukami Azusa and Karlheinz , ' Eve '

MENIS / THE SON OF WRATH

' 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐋 , 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐙𝐙 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄. '

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐔 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ( 逆巻 スバル )

' Sakamaki Subaru ' , the sixth born son and the youngest legitimate child.

He is the youngest of the Sakamaki brothers , he is the only son of Christa ( third wife ) and Karlheinz and has no siblings.

a pale man with light-lavender hair that reached below his ears , shades of deep rouge filling his eyes with a slight pinkish hue. Sakamaki Subaru wears a silver necklace with a tight black shirt and a longer white shirt beneath with rips that hang over his hips , he wears the school blazer over the top with the sleeves just below his elbows where a small silver looped chain rests on the bottom left side of his jacket.

Sakamaki Subaru can be spotted alone in the back of his classes or alone in the cafeteria with a scowl on his face. Or , at the Sakamaki household , he can be spotted in the gardens or the greeting room ( he will never be there for long )

Sakamaki Subaru is known as ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴡʀᴀᴛʜ because of his quick temper when it comes to ‘ mild annoyances. ‘ As a child , Sakamaki Subaru was doomed from the beginning and any prospects of having a happy childhood were taken before his birth , his mother , Christa was mentally ill and bipolar because of her husband / cousin ( however , she often thought of him as her ‘ kind big brother. ‘ ) Karlheinz sought out his cousin , Christa , in order to conduct an experiment on incest born children and when she learnt of this - she began to hate and love her husband as he was ‘ her kind big brother ‘ and the man that dirtied her , while loathing her unborn son because he was ‘ something impure that could ruin her beauty. ‘ When ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴡʀᴀᴛʜ was born , Christa demonstrated extremely destructive traits and often belittled and degraded her son , calling him a ‘filthy abomination ‘ and asking him to kill her repeatedly to be done with her life - because of the degradation , Sakamaki Subaru grew up believing he was unwanted and a monster. For a long time , the youngest son believed it to be his father’s fault that his mother was ‘ broken ‘ and tried to protect her , when he did so - she slapped him across the face and ran into her cousin’s arms : demonstrating that at that moment , she was not entirely influenced by Karlheinz and giving her son trust issues , making him believe all women were ‘ two-faced ‘ or liars. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴡʀᴀᴛʜ soon began to believe that she simply hated him and did not ever want him , he was only a monster to her - because of the lack of support and refusing his ideologies , he turned to anger to deal with his sadness and is extremely destructive. 

EPITHUMIA / THE SON OF LUST

' 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒. '

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐎 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ( 逆巻 ライト )

' Sakamaki Laito ' , the fifth born son , regarded as the ' perverted brother '

He is the youngest born triplet of Cordelia ( first wife ) and Karlheinz , Younger brother to Sakamaki Ayato and Sakamaki Kanato.

a slender man with shoulder-length reddish coloured hair that faded into a lighter blonde and shares the same piercing green eyes as his older brother, Sakamaki Ayato ; he is often seen with a fedora pulled above his eyes , slanting down and a grin on his face. His uniform consists of a black jacket with faux fur imbedded into the hood , an unbutton dress shirt ,and a skinny , black tie around the collar.

Sakamaki Raito can be found by listening to the moans or elated screams of the young women and men who follow him around. He can be seen wandering hallways or sitting in his selected classes. In the Sakamaki mansion , he can be heard playing his piano or watching over the household from shadowed corners.

Sakamaki Raito is regarded as ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʟᴜꜱᴛ because of his lewd actions and perverted mindset which was evidently , caused by his mother. As a child , Sakamaki Ratio was the firstborn son but soon had two younger brothers - he became the youngest triplet due to japans culture. Sakamaki Ratio had a lot of free time as a child because he had no ‘ responsibilities ‘ like his brothers during the day , but , as Sakamaki Raito got older - Cordelia found a different ‘ use ‘ of him. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʟᴜꜱᴛ and Cordelia began an incestuous relationship when the youngest triplet became of age , Cordelia used sexual and mental manipulation to believe that the intimate touches that they shared , were acts of love. Sakamaki Raito never outright told anyone but , ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ had suspicions. However , their father - Karlheinz , quickly found out , ( most probably by Cordelia teasing the relationship to gain some sort of jealous reaction from her unaffected husband ) and punished the young boy by forcing him to remain in the dungeons : Cordelia sought to break her children’s minds and make them succumb to her whims out of devotion and started to make Sakamaki Raito jealous when she visited the dungeons to torment her son , saying she had ‘ found another ‘ and was having ‘ entertainments ‘ with someone else ( demonstrating to Sakamaki Raito that he was not special and she was not his lover , against his own thoughts. ) This was further pushed when she had these ' entertainments ' in front of him , this caused Sakamaki Raito's warped perception of love. When Cordelia had relations with other people , he saw that as cheating on him and often killed them out of jealousy , later on gifting them to Sakamaki Kanato to mutilate. Once Cordelia was reaching her end by the eldest triplet’s hands , she ran to ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʟᴜꜱᴛ for him to save her : she stated that she only had love for her husband and she would kill him , as he would kill her - ( killing a vampire , as a vampire , is an ultimate form of love ) this caused for Sakamaki Raito to push her off of a balcony and down to the gardens , where she was burnt by the second born triplet.

ADEPHAGIA / THE SON OF GLUTTONY

' 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄 , 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐄. '

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐎 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ( 逆巻 カナト )

' Sakamaki Kanato ' , the fourth born son , and owner of a room full of wax brides.

He is the second born triplet of Cordelia ( first wife ) and Karlheinz , Younger brother to Sakamaki Ayato and older brother to Sakamaki Laito.

a short boy with light purple hair and the eyes to match : Sakamaki Kanato has dark under-eyes and an uncomfortable smile normally plastered on his face. His clothes that are typically worn are a white vintage dress shirt with a ruff styled collar , and dark plum waistcoat

He is never seen without his beloved teddy bear , ' Teddy ' .

Sakamaki Kanato can be found inside his classes at the designated times as he isn't big on causing trouble unless insulted at Ryoutei Academy. However , at the Sakamaki household , Sakamaki Kanato can be found in his own room or his private room - where he keeps his wax figures.

Sakamaki Kanato is nicknamed as ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ɢʟᴜᴛᴛᴏɴʏ because he is a glutton for being the sole focus of somebodies attention. During Sakamaki Kanatos’s childhood , he was desperate for a sliver of attention from his mother since he never received it no matter what act of desperation he performed - however , he was only called upon when Cordelia wanted him to sing ‘ Scarborough fair ‘ for her ( only asked for him to sing because it aroused her ) which he did , happily. Cordelia however , often had affairs with different men in order to get Karlheinz’s attention and at some point in time , Cordelia received a ‘ teddy ‘ bear from a lover and gave it to her second-born, this led to ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ɢʟᴜᴛᴛᴏɴʏ becoming infatuated with the gift and separating himself from his brothers. Sakamaki Kanato , like his brothers - soon began to resent Cordelia because she did not shower him in affection , because of this resentment; he helped his brothers in finishing her off when Sakamaki Ayato was hunting her and Sakamaki Raito threw her off of the balcony - he found her battered body and lit her alight with a flame. 

" Hysteric " ( ヒステリック- Hisuterikku ) - Sakamaki Ayato

HUPEREPHANOS / THE SON OF PRIDE

' 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 '

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ( 逆巻 アヤト )

' Sakamaki Ayato ' , the third born , household troublemaker and refers to himself as ' ORE - SAMA '

Eldest triplet son of Cordelia ( first wife ) and Karlheinz , Older brother to Sakamaki Laito and Sakamaki Kanato.

a tall boy with reddish coloured hair and piercing green eyes and a small stud in his right ear ; is often seen with an undone red tie wrapped around his fair neck. His uniform consists of a half done-up cotton shirt , a black blazer and black pants with the right leg pulled to his knee.

Sakamaki Ayato can always be found yelling in a classroom , ridiculing those who insulted his strength , in the cookery room trying to force a student to make him his favourite dish if he cannot find Komori Yui or , in the gym hall - showing off to anyone who would watch. However , in the Sakamaki mansion , he can often be found in the living room with his ' younger ' brothers : plotting a prank or berating them for taking humour in his self appointed nickname ' Ore - Sama '.

Sakamaki Ayato is seen as ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ because of his attitude towards others and his brothers. During his ‘ adult ‘ life , Sakamaki Ayato has presented himself as a narcissistic troublemaker with an acumen for others’ misery however , this was all caused by his mother because of the responsibility she threw onto his young shoulders. Sakamaki Ayato was a very blunt young boy and would often complain to his mother’s face when separated from his ‘ younger ‘ brothers and was forced into studies without further argument ( similar to how the ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴏᴛʜ was treated by his own mother ) as he was desperate for Cordelia's affection and praise. Soon , because of all the neglect and psychological abuse - his need and desperation for pride was tainted and his views on Cordelia became abhorrent , this lead to him hunting down Cordelia and injuring her - she later on died by his brothers hands.

' worthless boys must spend eternity at the cold, damp, bottom of the lake, all alone where no one can help them ' - Cordelia : ( his punishment was often being dropped to the bottom of the lake , this is how his fear of water ( thalassophobia / aquaphobia ) was developed.

PHTHONOS / THE SON OF ENVY

' 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 '

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ( 逆巻 レイジ )

' Sakamaki Reiji ' , the second born , self appointed ' manager ' of the Sakamaki household and works as the heir , a job that Sakamaki Shuu should be partaking in.

son to Beatrix ( second wife )and Karlheinz , Younger brother to Sakamaki Shuu.

a slender young man with dark plum hair ( fades to blonde at the tips ) and pale magenta eyes ; is often seen with a pair of white gloves on and rectangular glasses with silver frames. His outfit is typically formal wear that consists of a black shirt , a grey toned vest and deep plum waistcoat paired with a purple string neck tie.

Sakamaki Reiji can always be found in his classroom at the correct times or patrolling the hallways looking for his brothers if he has no obligations , making sure the Sakamaki name is not tarnished and does not provide an unwelcome visit or scolding off of his father. In the Sakamaki mansion , he can often be found in his room with his chemical instruments and drinking tea or reading a book in a sitting room , away from his elder brother.

The antisocial pessimist , Sakamaki Reiji is seen as ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴇɴᴠʏ because of his childhood and how he was treated by Beatrix. Sakamaki Reiji is an ambitious man and so , as a child , he was encouraged to study by his mother to become the best ' right-hand man '  his elder brother could have - ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴇɴᴠʏ felt shadowed in his brother’s glow and that he could never match up to Sakamaki Shuu in his mother’s eyes. Sakamaki Reiji developed a deep loathing for his older brother throughout his childhood because he never received the attention and dedication that his brother received from their mother and decided , in a fit of half thought out jealousy , sought out to burn Edgar’s village to the ground. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴇɴᴠʏ felt that this would gain the praise of his mother and recite some sort of responsibility onto his brother , to show him how careless he was. However , this had adverse effects and didn’t alter the relationship between himself and his mother , this caused a bitter taste to settle on the second borns conscious so , he then sought to be rid of his mother and hired a vampiric hunter to be rid of his mother and hired a vampiric hunter to be rid of her. She died with a proud smile on her face.

" tableware otaku " ( セブングラス shichisan megane ) - Sakamaki Ayato : ( collects tea sets and tableware )

ACEDIA / THE SON OF SLOTH

' 𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐄 '

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐔 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ( 逆巻 シュウ )

' Sakamaki Shuu' , the eldest brother , the heir to the Sakamaki household , and master of the Sakamaki mansion.

son to Beatrix ( second wife ) and Karlheinz , Older brother to biological brother Sakamaki Reiji.

a young man with curled blonde hair and light blue eyes ; constantly has earphones in his ears and is seen with his MP3 player ( attached to a wire that is wrapped around his pale neck ) , his outfit is typically a beige sweater and unbuttoned white dress shirt with his school blazer over the top, resting on his shoulders ; like a blanket.

Sakamaki Shuu is often found asleep in two places - on a stairwell or more likely , the music room in a far back corner of the school as he is never interrupted by other students in Ryoutei Academy , he is also surrounded by instrument's he can play at his will. However , at the Sakamaki mansion , he is often seen in his bathtub or the living room - asleep with his earphones in to silence the ruckus of his brothers.

Sakamaki Shuu is regarded as ᴛʜᴇ ꜱ��ɴ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴏᴛʜ because of his mannerisms and regular attitude throughout his adult life. As a child , his mother Beatrix saw him as a ' win ' in the competition with the first wife , this led to Beatrix pushing Sakamaki Shuu to become barricaded with responsibilities and lessons - as a result of this , he often ran to the village where he became friends with a young human boy , Edgar , who was a source of peace for the young master. Beatrix became deeply upset whenever her eldest ran away and this caused the second-born son , seeking her approval and out of pure jealousy , to burn the human boys village to the ground. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴏᴛʜ watched his friend desperately run to save his parents and never come back out , this caused the eldest fear of fire ' pyrophobia ' and , he soon began to develop his own world of comforts to soothe the ache of his best friend - he quickly shut himself off from his family and developed a apathetic view on the world and didn’t concern himself on mortal concerns. 

" good-for-nothing " ( 役に立たない - Yakunitatanai ) - Sakamaki Reiji

©2023 desthom do not share, copy, or translate any of my work without my permission

[devondespresso]

My Sunshine

G | 815 words | also on ao3 | cw: minor reference to child neglect and a dysfunctional household, mild blood

STWG prompt: Sunshine

Thank you so much to @stellarspecter and @vegasol for betaing and helping with clarity! You guys are truly amazing 💕💕💕 Dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 💛

Steve is 8 years old again.

That’s old enough to form memories that will last longer than a year or two, and he's starting to hate how that's the way time has to work, with the old stuff mostly forgotten. This memory, even, he didn’t realize had slipped away.

But all it takes is the vague tune of a song, and he's 8 years old again.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine."

Steve is 8, before she learned about the cheating, before he had to learn what that meant, before screaming, and before all of that was taken to New York, Chicago, then Seattle, because she said too quiet was better than too loud. 

"You make me happy, when skies are gray."

He is 8, and he is laying in bed. He has two scraped knees and an ever uglier elbow that Mrs. Hagan almost fainted at the sight of. He is a little tired, but he is not ready for Saturday to end.

"You'll never know, dear,"

But his mom is sitting on the side of his bed and running a hand through his hair. She is wearing her rose-tinted Sunday best. And she is singing.

"How much I love you."

Steve isn't eight years old.

And he definitely isn’t 8 years old.

He's nineteen, too close to twenty, sitting in the doorway of a room that isn't his, in a house he didn’t grow up in, stopping himself from getting comfortable leaning back on a door frame despite the current strain in his back, because it would only hurt the wound there more.

He's on the outside this time, looking over because no one told him he had to leave yet, as Ms. Henderson sits on the side of Dustin's bed and hums the tune like he isn't nearly fifteen years old.

And then, of course, the song is over, because it's always been too short.

And Steve is not eight years old.

There's too much strain on his back, so he brings his legs in carefully and pillows his head on his knees as she starts humming a new song that’s not as familiar.

Tews pops his little head into the room, looking at all his options before deciding to bump his head into Steve's legs and start purring, like he doesn't already have plenty of food in his bowl.

"You have food, you little rat," he whispers, petting Tews' head.

Tews leans into his hand, but still meows, circling to his other side to bump into his other leg.

"Mhm, pretty sure it was still half full five minutes ago.”

Tews meows again and darts behind him, trying to lead him back down the hall. Steve leans back a bit to try and find him, but he can’t.

Tews sticks a paw on his stomach, right where his bites are freshly bandaged, clearly thinking he was jumping on a lap before Steve yelps and shoots a hand over to get him off.

“Tews, Tewsie, c’mere,” Ms. Henderson calls from the bedside, a hand still in Dustin’s hair, and with a little sound all cat people somehow know how to do. Tews meows at him again with the same tone, then runs over to Ms. Henderson.

“Sorry, bud,” Steve whispers, holding the spot as he tries to relax again, laying his head back on his arm.

Tews bumps his head into her ankles, circling back and forth before meowing again.

“Too sweet for your own good,” she chides, picking Tews up so he can curl up in her lap.

And she starts humming the song again.

And Steve is not an eight year old.

“You okay, honey?”

Steve looks up.

“Yeah, just hit the edge of it, it’s probably not bleeding or anything.”

She nods, but she doesn’t believe him.

“Alright, Tewsie, up–”

“No, I can get up,” his hand finds the door frame to make it easier, and he stands without a fuss. “There, easy peasy.” 

Then he joins her and Tews, because it’s easy. 

Ms. Henderson pats the bed, just barely so it doesn’t wake Dustin, and Tews goes to the spot. Steve pats his head again.

Ms. Henderson stands, and offers a hug.

Steve’s nineteen, but nobody can really say no to a Henderson hug.

She avoids poking at the wounds on his back that are too fragile to handle it right now, somehow holding only around them, almost like there's nothing there. Steve might be bleeding.

And she starts singing a song only moms seem to know when to sing.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.”

And he closes his eyes. 

“You make me happy, when skies are gray.” 

And he hugs tighter.

“You’ll never know, dear,”

He’s bleeding, and it’s going to fall onto the shoulder of her sweater.

“How much I love you.”

And–

“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

And Steve is 19.