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bunnyreaper · 1 year

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hello hello! its me again back at it with the babies bc i am insatiable and i cannot get enough of your writing 😭💕

would you be up for toddler and teenager phases with reaper/gabe? something about the idea of reaper trying to handle a moody teen who takes after him is just- i am going to EXPLODE 🥺🙏

notes: yes i'm living for your requests!! i kind of went off the rails with this, i'm so sorry ;__; i hope you like it though! warnings: f!reader, loose grasp on concepts of masculinity and parenting. Gabriel and Reaper with toddler and teen child HCs (+ bonus drabbles)

Gabriel:

Gabe with toddler is a real treat to see, as he gets to release his more lighthearted, goofy, and imaginative side.

The best storyteller going will do all the voices (but gets a little embarrassed about anyone at work knowing this.)

Keeps up with the bilingual teaching and beams with pride when they start speaking Spanish.

Lets the toddler use them as a climbing frame, swings them around to their heart's content, and never gets tired.

Takes it really hard if he misses a milestone because he's out on a mission. Often someone caught it on camera, but it's not quite the same

Buys them their basketball jersey and baby hoop.

Would enjoy Bluey (because he's a man of good taste after all) and would hate Peppa Pig (same reason)—sometimes whistles the Bluey theme tune, and you can't convince me otherwise.

Gets extremely stressed if they sustain any slight injury at all.

Takes them into Overwatch for office days on occasion as a toddler. They love visits to Uncle Jack's office or when Ana lets them play fight with her.

Still brings them to Overwatch as they grow up, especially when they seem to be going through a tough time. They find everyone at Overwatch cooler than Gabe, or at least that's what they tell him (but they secretly hero worship him and all the others.)

Continues to teach them proper gun safety, takes them shooting and emphasizes the gravity of what guns can do.

Understands Ana's opposition to Fareeha wanting to join Overwatch, and has to have you talk him down from stubborn overreactions when the subject is mentioned.

Does bond with them over sport. Takes one-on-one time with them at their favorite games, and if they play, he'll try his best to attend games around missions.

Teaches them to cook too, especially dishes he loved growing up.

Struggles with the mood swings if they say hurtful things. If his kid ever said they hated him, his heart would shatter into a million pieces.

Tries to encourage openness and honesty, so they can feel safe discussing anything at all with him, even if he squirms like crazy giving "the talk".

Again, has to be talked down from being the stereotype of overprotective father when his kid starts dating, but he learns to trust their instincts and values. After all, you both raised them to value their own autonomy and to have good instincts about people.

But he almost finds himself crying with them the first time they get their heart broken, and he desperately wishes he could do anything to take the pain away.

Loves helping them pick outfits for school dances or other special occasions.

"You ready?" You ask your daughter sweetly, looking her over as she fiddles with the costume.

She frowns, a look you're familiar with indicating that she's feeling self-conscious and shy. "What do you think, mama?"

You kneel down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You look perfect, don't forget to do your impression, okay?"

"Okay." She confirms, yet still seems unconvinced.

"Can we show Papa now?" You ask, readying her for the reveal.

It's Superhero day at preschool, and she knew which hero she wanted to be the moment the day was announced.

She hesitates, the uncertain expression still in her eyes. "Maybe..."

"What's up, baby?" You stroke her sweet face, careful not to smudge the scars you just painted onto her face.

"What if he doesn't like it?" She frowns, her eyes averted from your gaze.

"He's going to love it, promise." You smile, and finally she softens. "Ready?"

She nods, and you call out to Gabe. "Ready?"

"Ready!" Gabe replies from the other room. He was hoping for something cool, maybe Captain Marvel or Wonder Woman, but he was about to get an even great surprise.

You open the door for your daughter, and the two of you walk into the living room.

"Ta da!" You call out, as your daughter crosses her arms over her puffed up chest and dons the most adorable, unconvincing scowl.

"Baby..." Gabe drops to his knees, staring at your daughter with welled up eyes, and he toys with her black beanie. "Baby... are you dressed as me?"

"Yes, papa, do you like it?" She asks, hesitant at her father's reaction.

"I love it." He nods, tightening his jaw and willing away the tears.

"You're my hero." She cries happily as she hugs his neck. "Don't cry!"

"Can't help it." He laughs, and your heart swells as you watch the scene. "Don't tell the bad guys my weakness, okay?"

"Okay." She giggles, pulling away to press a kiss to his cheek. "Te quiero mucho, papa."

"Te quiero mucho, baby." He whispers, casting you a look that shows you just how much his heart is melting. "So I guess once we pick you up from preschool, we better head to base. You've gotta start bossing Uncle Jack around now."

******

"Vete a la verga, papa!" ("Go to hell, dad!") Your daughter shouts as she slams the door upstairs, a loud thud that echoes round the house.

"Cuida tu lenguaje, jovencita." ("Watch your mouth, young lady.") Gabe calls back, anger in his tone as he admits defeat and storms down the stairs.

When he emerges into the kitchen, he's still muttering in Spanish.

"What did you say now?" You sigh, exasperated at the way the two of them have been butting heads lately.

"Ella tienen un humor de perros." ("She's in a bad mood.") He grumbles. "She'll get over it."

Reaper:

Hates the terrible twos and tantrums (because no one is allowed to be dramatic as he is), and sometimes you find him and the toddler both pouting.

Doesn't sweat the small stuff like grazed knees or hands, as he knows it's how the toddler learns. He still keeps a fierce watch over them, though.

His blood boils hearing kindergarten stories about other kids mistreating his child, doubly so if he senses an adult has taken a dislike to his kid.

Sometimes struggles with the high-energy moments of raising a toddler, but thrives when they're sleepy and just looking for cuddles. He makes a great pillow.

Does have to try harder to maintain his patience, and understand the lack of malice in the actions of a toddler. Sometimes he finds it hard to keep his cool when toys are being thrown or bedtime is being avoided.

Tears up more than he likes to admit at milestones and small moments, gets really sentimental and insists on keeping baby teeth, locks of hair, etc.

Keeps their drawings, even if they're just colorful lines and splotches.

Gets a family dog, and thrives seeing the bond between his kid and the dog.

Doesn't like wearing tiaras, drinking pretend tea, or the smell of play dough (deals with it all anyway.)

Feels parts of his soul repair when his kid says "I love you" for the first time.

Regrets teaching his kid sarcasm, because holy shit, do they have it in spades.

Is the overprotective father suspicious of everyone who wants to date his kid, regardless of gender. He might not show it outwardly, but he's often sharing his worries with you and prone to forgetting how scary he can actually be.

Both loves it and hates it when gun lessons show his kid to have an aptitude with shotguns.

Offers to drive them anywhere and everywhere, as it means he can keep tabs on them and keep them safer.

Teaches them self-defense, takes it very seriously.

Gains major cred with his kid for using the correct pronouns for trans/nb friends.

Curses them out in Spanish when they do something especially dumb.

Tries to pick up video games to help relate, finds FPS games annoyingly difficult, definitely grumps if he gets called out on it.

Cries at the high school graduation, begs you not to tell their kid.

Gets called "old man" by his kid, makes his eye twitch 1000%.

"Papa?" Your son's sweet voice interrupts the silence as you and Gabriel sit on the couch reading. Your son climbs onto his father's chest and pokes at his face. "Grumpy." He comments simply.

"I'm not grumpy." He says, yet his brows are knit.

"Papa grumpy." The toddler comments once more, mimicking the frown before fiddling with his face some more. He prods his fingers into Gabriel's cheeks, forcing them into a smile.

"Papa happy." He says with a grin.

"Papa happy." Gabriel responds, finally cracking with a genuine smile.

*****

"I don't know Mom, can I?" Your son responds, completely exasperated. You don't even need to look up to know he's rolling his eyes.

"You can do it yourself. You usually do anyway." He groans and makes his way to leave the kitchen.

His exit is blocked by your husband's heavy frame, his eyes glaring down at your son.

"Don't speak to your mother like that."

He comments, a quiet sense of rage filling him. "Your Abuelita would have your head for that." He growls.

"Good job she's not here then, isn't it?" Your son responds in an instant—the cruelty sounding strange even from his usually sharp tongue.

"Go to your room." Gabriel snaps, his voice raising as he steps aside yet puffs out his chest, unable to look his son in the eye.

Your heart clenches, knowing how the words would cut Gabriel so deep. They already hurt you, but his mother's memory was a sacred one, and your son had crossed a line. Despite his usual teenage ways lately, this was a step too far.

"When did he get so moody?" Gabriel comments gruffly, as you approach him and attempt to soothe him with a comforting touch.

"Hmm, wonder who gets that from." You whisper, pressing a kiss to your husband's cheek.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He pouts, going rigid with annoyance.

You laugh lightly. "Sure you don't."

Gabriel pulls away, the stormy expression still on his face.

"He's been struggling lately. I didn't mean to, but I overheard him talking to one of his friends." You sigh—now was the time to tell Gabriel the truth. "I've been meaning to bring it up."

Gabriel's attention is caught. "Bring what up?"

"You're so hard on him all the time. He thinks you hate him." Once more, your chest hurts. You know it's the furthest thing from the truth, but all your son craves is his father's approval, and your words haven't done anything to soothe him.

"He does?" Gabriel's eyes darken, as a piece of his past self bubbles up inside him—that same feeling he once had to always prove himself. The one that drove him to the police, the army, to the SEP, and beyond—ending in his near death experience and everything that follows.

Gabriel swallows deeply, his anger abating as he turns and heads upstairs to his son's room.

After a knock or two, he's greeted by a disgruntled "What?", before he announces that he's heading in.

"Hey." Gabriel offers casually, yet his boy doesn't meet his eye.

He sits on his bed, swirling the butterfly knife Gabriel got him for Christmas round and round. Gabriel takes a seat beside him.

"You can talk to us, to me, if something's bothering you." He offers, trying his hardest to sound even. He loves his son with everything he has, and he doesn't want him to grow up like him, constantly pushing things down.

His anger most days might be exacerbated by his physical condition, but the experiments only exaggerated what was lurking underneath.

The boy's knife play stops, his expression softening, yet he doesn't turn to face his father.

"I know dad." He sighs. "There's nothing to talk about, though."

"Then why are you acting out with your mother?" Gabriel asks.

"I'll apologize to her. Sorry."

"It would be better if you just explained yourself." Gabriel says, but his son now just falls quiet.

Gabriel studies his son's expressions, sensing his quiet softening and yet his clear reticence to open up at this time.

"Suit yourself." He replies, yet resolves to make a greater effort in the future to change things for the better. "I know you can take care of yourself." Gabriel's words finally have his son looking at him, the validation and approval clearly working.

He slings his arm around his son, pulling him closer. "But we're always gonna look out for you, your mama, and I. I'm proud of you, though."

His son looks sheepish and embarrassed, turning his face away yet not moving from his father's touch.

"Talk over?" He mumbles, his voice higher pitched than usual.

"Talk over." Gabriel nods, pressing a kiss to his son's head before making his way out of the room.

#gabriel reyes x reader #reaper x reader #gabriel reyes #gabriel reyes headcanons #overwatch headcanon #overwatch fanfiction #gabriel reyes headcanon

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primeministerofantarctica · 9 months

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A3! reading club: act one (chapter 1-6)

(cw: talking about parental neglect and abuse, orientalism, one mention of suicide)

Hey, ten out of twelve isn't bad, all things considered! This very well could have gone down in October. Also, since it's February (March if you wanna be generous), does that mean everyone in Harugumi's slightly younger than their Year One ages now? Ack, timelines are confusing.

Izumi casually talking about how Yukio neglected her and following it up with "well, it was probably because he loved this theater so much!" is. Oh, girl. No wonder she snapped when Sakyo suggested he'd abandoned Mankai, because if he hadn't loved it, then why did she have to go through with that?

I'm not versed enough in Japanese particles but I recognize "daijoubu" and Tsuzuru watching this trainwreck unfold and saying something along the lines of "are you guys, like, okay?" is extremely funny.

Then we get to Sakuya and Masumi's family situations, which. From a meta perspective, it makes sense to want to give your minor protagonists the freedom that having parents limits. That's why the trope of "young protagonist in kid's spec fic media is conveniently an orphan" is so common. (was? I think it's becoming less common now.) The problem lies in the lack of willingness to follow through with the emotional conflict it creates, or resolve said conflict in a satisfying manner. Sure, I'm assuming they weren't starved or physically abused, but being treated like a burden when you're a child is still fucking traumatizing! Basically I think Izumi Sakuya and Masumi should start a union. And I'm glad later chapters go the reasonably more toned-down route of "my parents have a reasonable amount of trust in me to make these kinds of decisions".

Also, can we talk about Sakuya and Masumi, because they're one of my favorite brotps here. The way Sakuya appoints himself as Masumi's surrogate big brother? He's so eager to potentially share a room with him ;-;. (personally I hc that Ms. Sakuma was expecting another child before the accident or whatever killed them, so Sakuya's been a big brother without a younger sibling all this time </3)

Wow, that doesn't sound like a metaphor for anything! You're right, Izumi, why would you go the easy route of taking something prepackaged and guaranteed when a bunch of wildly different spices can create a delicious meal if you know how to utilize them right?

Am I grasping at straws here. Probably.

The little ka-ching sound effect is adorable.

Tsuzuru, I'd think "antagonist" should be near the top of the list...also, there's plenty of plays that have been pulled off with two or three actors. Just put on "night, Mother" or something. (Joking. Don't look up night, Mother if you're sensitive to themes of suicide.)

"Tsuzuru, you picked this troupe because it had a dorm, right? ...Then maybe our best bet is to focus on more people in your shoes."

"People in my shoes? In other words...."

"The homeless?"

I CAN'T ASJHGSKSDSK

he's literally doing the 😔 face i'm on the floor.

HE'S HERE! Funny how Izumi's right about Citron not being a regular tourist right off the bat. He may not be from another troupe, but he's definitely "in character" right now.

Also, oof. Citron's my second fave in Harugumi after Sakuya, but it's glaringly obvious how much of his character is rooted in orientalism. Sure, maybe it's an act, but why is he talking about how "shameful" showing skin is when his top is (conveniently for us) THAT low-cut.

On another note, I know people have pointed out his distaste for pig's feet as evidence for headcanoning him as Muslim, but I haven't seen anyone point out how he calls Veludo Way a "mecca" of theatre. Like yeah, mecca can just mean hub, but...why didn't they just say hub? Words Have Connotations. I'm not saying this coding is good or bad, it's just a neutral observation.

AND HERE'S THIS BASTARD (affectionate)

Oh, Kasumi! (insert pointing reaction pic bc I've run out of photo space.) It's Kasumi, guys! :D

#astra rambles #a3! reading club

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hetagrammy · 7 months

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another thing i wanted to talk about is nyo!america and being the first born as a woman? how unlike alfred, she wouldn’t even be considered a candidate for being his heir. matthew having a chance but bc of the misogyny that plagues society then (and still now)

just. misogyny in father daughter relationships is very prominent in within ppls lives (ie, how fathers treat their sons is VERY different how they treat their daughters) and i would love to explore that! especially with ur portrayal of nz being a woman, yknow? :33

This is one of the reasons why I still portray America as a man in my writing/art, because the relationship between Arthur and Amelia would be so so different.

I can still see her as a golden child, but more in the trophy-like sense. I think Arthur would still have her educated in much the same way as Alfred, because his little girl is still brilliant as they come. I can see them starting with a very Thomas and Margaret More-esque parent-child dynamic. Arthur recognizes that aspect of her talent and wants her educated, but the caveat is that she still adhere to feminine standards of the time. In Alfred’s case the tension rose between him and Arthur because he wanted to be given more responsibility as the heir while Arthur felt it was more appropriate for him to remain the dutiful son. With Amelia it’s more a case of her knowing she is everything Arthur could want in an heir while Arthur affirms she serves him best by staying his sweet, bright, but obedient little girl. He expects her to act as a model for Matthew while she fully knows he affords Matthew more gendered privileges and freedoms (or neglect in some views tbh).

Matthew in this scenario is still pretty neglected I think because it does still take Arthur a while for him to actually see him in a paternal way. In a way he’s more of a disappointment because his daughter is everything his son is not. If anything, Matthew better fits what he’d expect out of a daughter: dreamy, sensitive, dutiful. Yet he’s the son Arthur’s got (until Ralph that is). He could get away with murder. Matthew is already very gender to me, but that’s amplified in an Amelia situation.

I think that Eleanor and Arthur are such an odd case because he is more indulgent with her than he ever was with his other children. I think this stems both from her gender and Arthur learning from the past a little. She also takes after him a little more in personality than Alfred/Amelia did, so he has a better understanding of how she ticks. She is less affected and less prone to outbursts than Alfred/Amelia, a bit less idealistic. Eleanor also never occupied the same space Alfred/Amelia had, she’s the youngest, so she never has this expectation of being or succeeding the old man. She still pushes the envelope and wants more independence, just not in the same ways. Arthur allows her to be educated, he allows her a little more freedom. There is still certainly a lot of expectation he has about how she should carry herself, especially in the context of Victorian/Edwardian womanhood. I just think he lays off a little more because of what happened before with his eldest.

This is by no means saying that Eleanor would have been a “better” daughter than Amelia, because they’re both being measured by sexist standards. Eleanor has the benefit of being the youngest and being born in a time period where there’s been more social change regarding women. Amelia would’ve been the guinea pig, dealing with a slightly different set of standards, and importantly dealing with the responsibility and standards of being the eldest on top of the standards placed on a daughter. They would be in different positions with different personalities, which always has an effect.

#ask #hetalia #my thoughts #hws england #hws america #nyo!america #hws canada #hws new zealand #nyo!new zealand #anglo family

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nevalizona · 2 months

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Ohmygod😭😭😭😭 I read a wiki of a killer in d*ad by d*ylight and ohmygod😭😭😭😭 I am so enamored by him! It's like he was made for me. This is going to be a dumb long post bc I just wanna copy and paste some sections from his lore that stood out to me. It's all under the cut. At the end I talk a little about it, but I need to put my thoughts together in a more put-together way. This will do for now.

Oh and trigger warnings for gore and violence.

In the sweltering barn, he stares at the blood dripping from his hammer, feeling as though he were in a dream. Strange. Weird. Unhinged. No. Not a dream. More like... like he's living in a TV show... watching himself from a distance. Slaughtered cows thick and wet all around him. Seven or eight of them writhing helplessly in warm, coagulating blood. Heads cracked open. Brain and gore spilling out. Flies buzzing around him, buzzing in his face, buzzing in his ears, telling him this slaughter is who he is. This senseless slaughter is his worth... his only worth.

The flies circle his face and laugh at him. The high-pitched whining returns. "The pigs got names and you didn't! Duke and Donny." He swats at the flies. Pa nudges him. "Come on, Boy, show'em you can do more with that hammer!" Boy... That's what Pa calls him. Boy... That's what Ma calls him. They think he's too dumb to know he doesn't have a name. A real name. He knows. All his life he knew. He knew and imagined himself as Max... Max Thompson. Imagined his Pa was so proud of him that he gave him his name. How he dreamed to have his father's name... how he dreamed... Pa shoves him.

Ma sobs on the ground with a mouth full of cracked teeth. Boy lifts her with one arm and a flood of inarticulate words rush out of his mouth. Words he only understands. Words the TV taught him. He wants to know his name, his real name, and she just stares at him, confused, lost, desperate. She gurgles blood and chips of tooth slip down the side of her face as she begs for her life. Even if she understood what he was saying she could tell him nothing. "My name! My name! What's my name!" Boy slams his Ma against the ground again and again.

"Why? Why did you hate me? What did I do to make you both hate me so much?" Her face is both beautiful and hideous at the same time. Evil veiled by beauty. He hugs her, harder and harder, wishing everything would have been different, wishing he were one of those damn pigs. They spoiled them with love, affection and time — all that time they spent with Duke and Donny while he groveled nameless and alone in a dungeon built just for him. He tries to lift her, but slips in a pool of her blood. She struggles in his embrace. Every time he asks the question he squeezes her tighter and tighter. "My name... What's my name?" Her struggles cease and she jerks spasmodically.

Boy moves to the side to let him pass and stares at his good work. Stares at the gore dripping from his skull like putty. Watches him stagger left and right in the moonlight. If he were a cow, he'd end his suffering. But he's not a cow. He's something else. Something vile and corrupt. Boy watches him disappear in the shadows. He stares at the darkness until he hears a thud. A strange feeling fills his heart and he... laughs. It feels good to fight back and show them his worth — his real worth.

These deputies seem angrier than the last. He's not sure if it's because he felled their friends or if he ended their cleaning racket with his Pa. Maybe both. He just gets the sense if they catch him they'll make him suffer and squeal like a pig. Those pigs. Those damn pigs they loved so much. Why did they have to love them so much and him so little. Had they treated him like those pigs he would have been happy. He would have been happy and he would have been something else. He would have been a hero like that boy who wore a cape and helped the world all because of how his Ma and Pa raised him.

I don't have anything concise to say, but I love how much being loved by parents and the importance of a name is highlighted throughout all of Max's lore. If his parents had shown him even an ounce of kindness, things could have turned out different. He even goes as far to say that if his parents had treated him as they treated their prized pigs, things would be different.

#stevie.txt #text #d*ad by d*ylight

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salveticn · 1 year

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;; I would like to talk a little about lahabrea , if i may ... especially regarding the pandaemonium tiers . so this post contains spoilers .

before opening this blog , i was undecided whether i wanted to write lahabrea or elidibus , to then choosing elidibus because i am way too fond of lahabrea , and if any bad experience would happen here , i know i would have him ruined forever . i do like elidibus , i've grown very attached to him while writing him in here despite my insecurities initially , but lahabrea is on a complete different level .

you cannot imagine the joy i felt when his appearance was finally revealed and he was everything i wanted from him . i think he looks very handsome , a look that fits his character , you know ? i would have been indifferent if they chose to stick with the interpretation of lahabrea we had , but his actual one makes more sense since he's referred to as very old ( perhaps one of the oldest ancients , too ? )

in any case , very happy with his looks . as for his role in the pandaemonium tier ? we still must come to an end and i look forward to it with impatience ! but i really enjoyed his entrance in the second tiers , and the fact that he is a completely different person from the lahabrea we know made me go :O i mean , i was expecting it , but also :O

now , i get the canon interpretation leaves some people question his morals and parental skills . it could have been written better ( or maybe not , maybe this will open the doors to unexpected ways in the upcoming tier ? who knows ) but i don't think he's a bad father ... heck , not the way the fandom has been treating him at least , because i've read some heavy words from people that just made me feel a little uncomfortable .

lahabrea's intentions were not meant to break hearts , but after suffering trauma , he's made himself indifferent to anything and / or anyone . he's used some words to prompt erichthonios on the way of improvement , even used certain facial expressions that could have been misread -- especially since he's concealed most of his emotions in hephaistos . but none of his doing was ill-intended . he had a secret to keep from erichthonios -- a secret that he knew his son would crumble right before his eyes , were he to discover the truth . while , yes , it's better knowing the truth than living in the shade all the time , lahabrea preferred to be hated by his son than strike him with insufferable pain .

erichthonios is very susceptible to emotion , and this is a trait that lahabrea knew , hence why he refrained from telling him the truth right away . he couldn't just up and tell his child ( who was very young then ) : oh your mom just wanted to exploit you for her own experimentations . every words of encouragement she ever told you , every little attention she had given you , every little thing you did ... she tracked it all down , it was all set for her own end . she had you in her thoughts but only as her own guinea pig . no , he couldn't say the truth to him just yet ... not when erichthonios was still emotionally sensitive . that's why the perfect time was when erichthonios wasn't alone , when erichthonios had grown stronger . that's when lahabrea saw change in him , and knew he was ready to hear the truth .

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

i also saved some snippets from dialogues in pandaemonium :

lahabrea at hephaistos ... this because hephaistos manipulated erichthonios to fulfill athena's experiment , exploiting his sensitive heart for his own good . dad vs dad of the past ( even if a good chunk of athena's essence lives in hephaistos )

ugh , i wished they worded this one better tbh ... a convocation member's role is to fulfill their duty for the sake of the star and lahabrea nearly caused fatal damage to the star by allowing athena to run her tests and experiments in pandaemonium ( even constructing the facility was one big mistake ) bc what if she actually succeeded ? he set himself on the right path after ushering athena to her end . he also says that he couldn't nurture a son while an entire world looked to him for guidance , but not because he couldn't as if he didn't want to , but because his work kept him tremendously busy all the time , leaving him with little time to actually care for a child . but he takes the responsibility anyway .

idk why but i really like this one . he's demanding but his tone sounds composed . free his son unless you want to die . it's such a short sentence but it makes me understand that he really does care about him ...

and this is how i think lahabrea was meant to be written : on the outside , a composed , serious-looking man -- one of those capable of making your blood run cold with a single glare ! so serious that their lips will not budge at the funniest joke . but on the inside ... on the inside he will do anything for the safety of his child , even killing if it means saving him .

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

now , i cannot speak for canon interpretation ( because we simply just don't know ! ) but I would like to blab about MY lahabrea for a moment :

it doesn't differ much from canon interpretation but i like to make characters feel more alive , and not just robots , you know ?

i'll start with ... he's a boomer . he's very composed , serious , with impeccable discipline and mannerisms , but there will be times in which he cannot find his reading glasses ; so you will hear him go "where are my glasses? has anybody seen my glasses?" only to discover he's wearing them , or at least keeping them connected to a chain around his neck . he cannot read without his reading glasses , or he will look like this .

lahabrea finds it hard to express adoration after suffering his trauma with athena , but he still very deeply cares about erichthonios . however , it's a rare occurrance for him to express it verbally ; he will simply make sure that erichthonios finds his favorite meals / food in the fridge / cabinets .

and because lahabrea is a busy man , he had very little time to dedicate to his son but he managed to be present regardless . he left little notes around the house for erichthonios , like : a note inside the cookie jar "you may eat three, but brush your teeth after" ; a note on the fridge "there are yesterday's dinner leftovers, microwave for 2 mins. temperature crystal is already set" ; a note on the counter "i left some sliced apples / lunch box in the fridge" ... you know , notes like this .

and you bet there are days in which he takes erichthonios to work with him ... they're probably very frequent , depending on his schedule .

i have several more hcs about lahabrea , but i hope to have covered most of my points with these (●'◡'●)

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

also , i'm begging the fandom to please stop saying lahabrea has had super s//ex or smth , legit on my knees ... what you call super s//ex for fun is just athena manipulating lahabrea for her own good , because by soul-merging , she would have achieved another step into her experiment .

lahabrea agreed because he believed that by doing so , he would discover whether or not athena kept him in her thoughts . she didn't ... not a single thought was about him , not a single thought expressed true feelings about their love or their relationship in general . he discovered her plans for erichthonios , the very key for her experiment .

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

i'm sorry for the long post ... i honestly planned on writing a lot more but i felt like i would become too repetitive in the end . lahabrea holds a very special spot in my heart so i hope we get to see more of him in the future .

i look forward to pandaemonium tier 3 ! (❁´◡`❁)

#((#one thing that i love and that i always say when chatting with my friends is that ...#erichthonios is all his father fdjfggj he got the best genes u . u and he's very handsome himself #legit you look at his face and it's all his father !!#ugh ;v;#but i'm also like ... damn athena wtf you evil genius ??#that woman was dedicated ... she was d e t e r m i n e d #holy shit i love this patch's raids ...#))#☽ || free from all sense of purpose ;; ooc #tw ;; long post

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captorsicallfriends · 2 years

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Another story- so I'm not gonna tell you everything about my family bc that'd be dumb but I will tell you that my family is full of police officers. Yay. And I didn't think about it much when I was younger but now I'm kind of realising there is no other way this happened than for the purpose of me becoming the main character in a dystopian novel. So I'm sitting at my family Christmas party, surrounded by skinny white able bodied cishet people having, as I'm sure you can oh so clearly imagine, the time of my life (sarcastic). ⚠️This next bit involves racism and mentions of police brutality so feel free to not read this if that kind of thing doesn't sit well with you⚠️ And somehow the conversation switched to the black lives matter movement, and my uncle started running his mouth off on how if George Floyd just "complied" he wouldn't have had to be treated with such force. Oh no. Oh fuck no he did not just say that. Listen listen listen you can deadname me and whine about how disappointing my lifestyle is but the second you come for a whole ass movement aiming for equal rights????? Tell me what you want on your tombstone rn and I'll just write the word moist a bunch of times instead that's how pissed I am. But anyway- I am too shocked to speak like how can you say something like that wtf. So instead of ripping him to shreds like I normally would I just wait until the dinner is over and follow him around the house going "guess who I am", making a bunch of pig sounds, and pointing at him. And Diya when I tell you there is nothing funnier than a grown ass man turning bright red and fuming, winding up his fist going "why I oughta-" while a smug child stands there pushing up their nose and oinking, there really is nothing funnier . This occured the whole night it was extremely funny and I'd definitely be in jail right now if I still spoke to them but anyways. The next morning rolls around and my aunt brings up that murder of the black man who got shot, died, and the cop claims she "thought the gun was a taser". And I go "yeah it's horrific how little coverage that story got and she was obviously racist but if the story she's saying is real by some very very very slim chance it really proves how unqualified cops are to be doing their j-" and was interrupted with "what? No, it was obviously an accident. That poor police officer getting blamed for an innocent mistake 🥺🥺🥺" I'm- if I wasn't surrounded by arseholes 24/7 and also if murder wasn't illegal let me tell you I'd be running this fucking shitshow a whole lot better than like any world leader ever. But the world is a sad sad place so until my mortal soul sheds it's physical form and my primordial existence renews itself with the rage and fury of a thousand suns (approx 2072 if my math is right), we will have to endure more of this bullshit, dear mutuals. But fret not my love's, because we will be forever blessed with the constant opportunity to rebel against the oppressers, and as long as there are people there will be rage and change, no matter how small or helpless it seems. Bet you can't guess what the rest of the afternoon looked like. "Hey hey hey guess who I am" oink oink oink oink oink "that's you" *runs away*

But yea fuck capitalism and I promise one day I'll punch them in their stupid pink faces

that is the funniest shit ever (you imitating a pig and saying it's the cops) and yeah fuck capitalism. acab everyone

#diya answers #anon

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brahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh · 14 days

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im gonna do this cause i see it everywhere and never have but idrk if people care so im just gonna do as much as i want all at once for fun

1 sw 172 hw 205 cw 173 lw 140

2 im 5'5 and a half technically and i wish i was just 5'5 or like a little bit shorter i hate being bigger than other people and i feel like its more ""excusable"" if im shorter? i grew up being the tall kid and hated it so i feel a lot better about it now since everyones grown

3 not posting thinsp0 cause i dont wanna get t3rmd or be too triggering

4 my greatest fears about weight loss are dying, getting forced into recovery again or institutionalized and just generally my mom finding out

5 the real reason i wanna lose weight is definitely mostly for other people i got over a lot of insecurity when i recovered but fatphobias a bitch and people treated me sm worse constantly than when i was at my lw

6 i dont binge probably bc most of the time theres not a lot of food in the house and ive just never gotten into the habit of it

7 i dont think my parents know? my mom might but if she does she thinks im just exercising again and doing it healthy style

8 i dont really have a workout routine im still trying to get back into working out but i do go on 20 minute runs like 3ish times a week and ive been doing small pinterest cardio workouts like burpees mountain climbers and other basics

9 people have made comments since 2nd grade lol thats a big part of why im back here

10 the hardest thing ive given up during weight loss was happiness honestly. it sounds cheesy but eds literally take over your brain food was the only thing on my mind and recovering was like euphoria with this giant weight (lol) lifted.

11 @lxllx3d is my fav thinsp blog cause i dress alternative and the owner seems cool and has good opinions

12 too many hard boiled eggs my cholesterols crazy and i have bagels pretty often as my main meal

13 lmao

14 my ugw is 120 and losertown says ill reach it sometime this summer or august

15 im not vegan or vegetarian but im hindu so i dont eat cow and feel bad about pigs being smart so i dont eat pig i try to eat as much chicken as i can cause protein is very important for not dying w a restrictive ed

16 i first decided to lose weight when i was 9 i would do these workout apps with my also fucked up friend. i saw a nutritionist (fuck you lady) when i was 11 and she told me to start counting calories on myfitnesspal (fuck you lady fr never tell a child to do that)

17 im an0rexic

18 sunflower seeds and pie are probably my biggest weaknesses (which is usually fine for sunflower seeds except like sodium)

19 the last time i ate fast food was probably like a month or two ago i had like fries and i live across the street from a fosters freeze (its like a dairy queen)

20 i dont really do diets i just set cal goals based on what i think i need/can handle

21 i wear like a us medium in tops and a large in bottoms depending on the store obvs

22 i already said but my lw was 140 and i gained bc i recovered (like professionally like i had a dr and psychiatrist and nutritionist(she sucked))

23 media probably definitely played a role in me thinking being fat was bad or just being aware of it in general but i think it was mostly subconscious

24 pro ana and pro mia are pretty dumb terms to me bc almost nobodys actually promoting it to other people or thinks its good we just want community i usually just say ana community or mia or ed

25 i have purged i cant remember the first time but i do remember one time i was hanging out with my friends at my house and we had rootbeer floats and i took a shower a purged it when they were in the other room which was super lame

26 im most excited to just feel lighter and have people notice again

27 idk how i deal with being around food sometimes i eat it sometimes i dont sometimes i give it to other people

28 a thigh gap would be nice bc chafing in the summer hurts so bad but i dont think its realistic for my body type and cause i still wanna be relatively curvy i def want more of a gap then now though

29 i think my definition of beauty is pretty abstract i find most things beautiful and a lot of it for people depends on actions and personality and little things they do i think beauty is ever evolving and cant really be defined

30 10 facts about me!! im an artist(bunch of different things but a lot of portrait paintings), im a smoker (both), im an ambivert but i act like an extrovert, i like kids, im german and have a really cool last name, im passionate about politics and social justice, im really passionate about the environment (i represent my school in this district wide youth environment thing and im taking ap environmental science), im very bisexual, i love riot grrrl music and subculture stuff, im a theater kid :|

#tw ed numbers #@n@ thoughts #@n@ diary #an0rec1a #anatumblr #light as a 🪶#ed numbers

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llycaons · 6 months

Text

ep49 (2/3): I wish jgs was alive so we can kill him again (more painfully)

oh jgy is so good. he developed a fake tell for lying so he can deceive his brother more effectively. come to think of it, xy was also a lying liar who tricked the person who trusted him the most and sent him to his death. I'm sensing a theme

...read a fic once where lwj was gravely wounded at nightless and lxc blamed wwx and then killed him because of it. that was juicy as fuck. their relationship didn't recover for years, not until it was revealed wwx secretly survived. that was a parent trap AU. wild time. anyway

a really powerful move to cement him as the shy, loyal yet socially powerless illegitimate son

oh god oh fuck remember how well this was done? they nailed the tragedy and horror SO well

yayyy uncle nephew time. wwx and jl make me so happy they're FAMBLY!

legitimate greivance! but jgy, this isn't a justification for jin zixuan! you murdered one of the only high-ranking jins who actually liked you and treated you with respect

like if he'd killed his dad and zixun he probably would have been fine. guaranteed a high position and zixuan could pressure the rest of the sect to treat him with respect, which he wasn't close enough with nmj to really push the issue on

yep that IS fucked. jgy's resentment is long-held and justifiable

ugh god I don't even want to insult a pig by calling him that. piece of shit!

okay this was a slay move

this isn't helping your case dude. you just admitted to mass murder

I can't even tell if this is an act anymore. does he actually feel regret over any of this? does he rue the loss of his autonomy, his self-respect?

god what a disgusting person for real.

I refuse to post the quasi-kiss because it's nasty but also IT WAS NOT A KISS!!!! flirtatiously transferring fruit between mouths does not a kiss make!!!

fucking losing it. honestly I get it

buddy. lan xichen. you asked.

I forget if I already mentioned it, but the temple scene is really gorgeous. a good place for emotional showdowns, even if they drag a bit

aw fuck yes half-face shot that looks kind of awkward but metaphorically works PERFECTLY. also I complained about people being taken in by him but right here I was like 'okay finally we get some honesty from him! he's admitting he's a shitty person! it still might be an attempt to glean that very pity, but at least-' and then the ominous music starts and we get this shot

and I was like "FOR FUCK'S SAKE YOU JUST DON'T QUIT'

jc, calling to wwx as if he's trustworthy again...hm

lwj how did you come to that conclusion. what do you know about unorthodox qin string storage

WHERE??!!!! in his hand???

oh jeez he's really going for it. that's more blood than he drew from wwx...for once, someone suffers more than wwx (sorry jin ling)

FUNNIEST SHIT IN THE FINALE. jgy ditching his loyal retainer at the first possible opportunity. to quote that one post I know they fucked and su she is following him around bc he's hoping to do it again. and jgy is clearly not above leading people on to keep them devoted to him

oh my godddd

lsz got thrown in for no reason and also wen ning just showed up so the whole gang's here!!!

but seriously why is lsz here. where did he come from? why is he alone? he doesn't even do anything. I suppose it's so he can stare at wwx and clutch his little butterfly toy very tightly but he is blatantly just shoved into the scene for zero plot reason

it's not a complaint because he doesn't interfere or anything, and another trusted lan disciple relaying the truth of what happened in the temple can't hurt, but it's weird

there's jc again. now he trusts wwx again seemingly immediately, relying on him for information and clarification 🥺

#cql re-rewatch

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moomoorare · 1 year

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sorry if you dont want any stories relating in ur askbox, feel free to delete.

But like, i’ve been fat my entire life - not just chubby, not curvy, but fat. And as a kid, I was always so self conscious because everyone took it as me not taking care of myself, or being sick, but I was just naturally heavier. It took me so long to learn how to love how I look, and my fiance helped a lot - but it means now I really notice how much people brighten up now when I talk abt changing my diet or exercise. They’re always like “oh, are you planning on losing weight?” Like... no. I like how I am. I like the stretch marks and fat. I think I’m adorable and beautiful. And yet when I tell that in return, “No, I like my figure,” people always seem... like, disappointed? I don’t get it. I feel like someone being happy with how they look should be celebrated regardless of what they look like??

First of all!! Hi anon!! :D i admire you and i also, i get it

Same thing has happened to me, i personally don't like moving around a lot bc it's painful and also, I'm not sporty lol. I always get little comments about how i never move or exercise, how i eat "a lot".. just last night i ate lots of pistacchios bc i haven't had them in like, years. And i was really enjoying the food, then a old aunt started making fun of me and the amount i was eating. Me and my dad bought the nuts btw, so they weren't even hers. And she kept laughing at me and hiding her own mount of pistacchios. Like bitch i wouldn't even want them. Also everyone was straight up ignoring her. And she baked stuff that was Soo nasty she looked upset when i didn't like it lmaoo

Hate how people who enjoy food and aren't stick thin get treated when they eat and laugh saying it tastes good. Like... Girl, just because I'm chubby they act like I'm gonna straight up ingest a whole pig, human baby, barn and armchair in one go.I'm just existing, eating pistacchios?? Fu king bitch

#rare letter box #fatphobia

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haitaniapologist · 2 years

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THE OBJECT OF ALL MY DESIRES ( part two ).

pairings — king! akashi takeomi x lady kawata! reader ( mentions of shinwaka ).

genre — angst (because it’s takeomi), fluff, smut.

warnings — an unhealthy obsession with using dashes instead of commas, sentences with strange structures and grammatical errors because english isn’t my first language, yearning, insecurities, typical society rules of the regency, death of a minor character, age gap relationship (reader is 21, takeomi is 31), s*x before marriage, face-sitting, authority kink, nipple play, breeding kink.

word counting — 10k

tagging — @tooweirdforyou @aetheriaess @etheralyonn @lonnie19 @sincerelyraylene @chronic-claire-universe @sanzu-s @aqualesha @winterv-black @softbajis @nanamis-wifey-reye @harufilms

notes — sobbing. i love this fic so much, everyone knows that. a big kiss to aria bc as always, she's the one being my guine pig whenener i sent snippets for her.

find part one here !!!

likes, comments, reblogs, asks, everything is appreacited !!! NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

you hadn’t been yourself since that night in the library, even if you smiled and went on with your life as if your heart hadn’t been shattered into a million pieces.

himari was the first one to notice that your smiles stopped reaching your eyes, and how swollen they looked when you woke up. you didn’t had the same excitement as before, when you first arrived in brahman, and when she asked about the book you were so happily reading, your eyes teared up. but you didn’t cry — nobody could know why you were feeling like that, so you suffered alone, inside the four walls of your chambers. you wished your brothers were with you, but they would only arrive a week before your marriage — but, from what you read from nahoya’s last letter, war against lord south was imminent in toman, and you feared that such a day would go without any family at your side.

senju also noticed something was off between you and her brother, too.

no more exchanging of looks during meals, thinking no one else was observing you two, no more fleeting and innocent touches, and no more small talk over the afternoon tea. takeomi treated you as if you didn’t exist, and you looked at him like you were a puppy that was kicked by him. and that made her worry — she knew how her brother could be, and she knew he was drowning himself in work more and more. the news from toman wasn't helping either, and she watched as the bags under his eyes grew day by day.

he looked the same when prince shinichiro died, and senju felt as helpless as she did before — she was watching her brother losing himself, and she didn’t know what to do, again.

haruchiyo even tried talking to him. as the future advisor of both kingdoms, he was spending more time with takeomi than he ever did — but the oldest akashi didn’t want to open himself. not when his desires would make his little brother sad, and he didn’t want to poison their relationship even more. takeomi’s biggest regret was pushing haruchiyo away when he became king, but now he couldn’t do much to repair what he broke. just like he did with you, and maybe the two of you could bond over shared bitterness towards his actions. but haruchiyo tried to extract the truth from his brother’s lips, without success — and wakasa became the only source of hope the siblings had of helping the oldest akashi.

after a stressful day of meetings and watching as how you dull you looked over the window of his office — takeomi knowing very well that it was his fault —, the king wanted nothing more than to retreat for his chambers and to dwell on his own self-pity, but a knock on his office's door meant that his wishes wouldn’t become true.

lord wakasa entered the king’s office with determined steps, a scowl on his face. was takeomi a fool? he couldn’t believe the words the princess and the prince spilled to him — yes, he noticed how his friend seemed to be in love with you, but he never thought he would be such an idiot and drive you away from him. at first, he didn’t want to believe senju’s and haruchiyo's theory. maybe takeomi was like that because he was tired. war wasn’t something easy to deal with, and even if his friend was known as the god of war by the neighborhood kingdoms, wakasa knew how much takeomi despised it.

but senju noticed how you weren’t like yourself anymore, even if you tried to hide it. your maid even asked her if she knew if something happened, and that was what prompted her to start thinking that something happened between you two. she knew that every night you two met in the library, stopping the late night encounters one night after the ball. the princess told him that they tried to talk with their brother, but he didn’t want to say anything — and wakasa was their last option, because if takeomi did nothing, you and haruchiyo would be put under a miserable fate you three didn’t deserve.

“waka.” takeomi greeted him, a puzzled look on his green eyes. he knew he had skipped dinner, but he preferred to go to sleep with an empty stomach than to see how lifeless your eyes were. “did something happen?” it wasn’t unusual for wakasa to pay him a nightly visit, mostly to talk about a problem that appeared.

“what did shinichiro really tell you when he died?”

“what?” takeomi choked out. wakasa was a blunt person, but that was from nowhere. did he… did he know about you and him? surely senju said something. “what are you talking about, wakasa?”

“do not ‘what’ me, takeomi. you know what i am saying.” the count took a seat in front of his king, his violet eyes burning holes on takeomi’s green ones. “i never bought that bullshit of you promising him you would never marry nor have children because he asked you to. shinichiro would never ask something like that.”

“how can you be so sure of it? you did not know him like i did.” takeomi didn’t mean for such venom to drip out of his voice, but he was tired. in the next few days he would take in weapons again and march against a foreign threat, side by side with a boy he knew since childhood. takeomi wasn’t in the mood to hear a moral lesson from his friend. his mind was already made up.

you were to marry haruchiyo.

“yes, i did not.” wakasa smiled sadly at him, and the sight made takeomi regret what he said. “but we were lovers, and he always told me he wanted you to experience what he felt when he was with me.” the count admitted, and takeomi felt his heart clench inside his ribcage. “and that is why i know he never made you promise to run away from love or to break that poor girl’s heart because of it. be sincere with me, omi. why do you run away from it?”

the king took a deep breath. wakasa had cornered him, and he couldn’t escape now. “because of my father and you, wakasa.” he answered, dropping his head to his face. “my father, he… he was a good man before my mother passed away. he changed so much when she died, and that reflected how he treated my siblings, especially senju.” he still remembered how cold and distant his father was when his little sister was growing up and, when he died, he officially took the role of her father over his shoulders, because, in both of their hearts, he already was. with haruchiyo was different — he wasn’t the one to “kill” their mother, and he had more affection and attention from their father than senju did. “and you… you were miserable when shinichiro died. the look in your eyes was one of the worst things i ever saw.”

wakasa understood, he really did, but it seemed like takeomi had more to say.

“and i do not want someone to suffer because of me. especially not y/n.” his friend’s puzzled look made him continue. “i am a man born to fight. born to find my comfort in war, and i know i will die because of it. i can not make her go through the pain of my death.” he admitted, looking at wakasa through the gaps between his fingers.

“she will suffer your death nonetheless, omi.” wakasa tried to reason.

“but at least she will not love me like she does now.” it was what he hoped. by breaking your heart, he would spare you the heartbreak of seeing his cold and dead body.

wakasa sighed. “how can you be so sure?” he was starting to get frustrated. he knew how stubborn takeomi could be, but he wanted to do nothing more than slap some sense into his friend. “it is better to die knowing you and y/n were able to live your love than dying thinking about what could’ve been. like me and shinichiro.” at the mention of the short time he and his friend were lovers, the count watched as takeomi’s walls crumbled around him.

“i am afraid.” the king whispered, feeling like a child over again. “i do not want to feel the same despair i did when my mother and shin died again.” he choked a sob. “i do not want her to feel like that. i do not want her to feel like her heart is being ripped from her body, for her tears to feel like glass cutting her skin. i do not want that for her. ”

wakasa walked around the table, putting his arms around takeomi’s shoulders. it wasn’t his embrace that he needed now — he was sure he would prefer one of his siblings or even shinichiro — but it was what he could give him.

“there are so many things worse than death or mourning a loved one, takeomi." wakasa spoke firmly, his arms tightening around his sobbing friend. "not allowing yourself to love or be loved is one of them. do not commit this mistake."

—

you weren’t any better, but you thought everyone was more worried about the war than to take with how you were feeling. and, of course, you could feign your sadness as worry for the upcoming battles — because you were. your brothers wrote for you, and you knew it would be their first experience with a real battlefield. tourneys and simulations weren’t the real thing, and your heart ached for them. and for the king and haruchiyo, too. takeomi’s fame of being the god of war was a thing everyone knew about, and you admired how passionate he was in aiding your homeland against lord south.

you just wished he would come home in one piece, even if it wasn’t for your arms.

senju was worried too, and the two of you shared your thoughts about your brothers every day. she was also frustrated about takeomi not letting her go with them, and while you trusted her abilities with the sword and the spear, you agreed with takeomi. that wouldn’t be an easy war, and in his and haruchiyo’s absence, she was the regent of the kingdom. you tried to comfort her in the best way you could, but you knew how much she wanted to prove herself worthy of being the commander of her brother’s armies. her time was yet to come, and you were sure it would come quickly.

you, alongside the other ladies, didn’t have much to do. sometimes you were able to participate in a meeting, giving your honest opinions about how lord south thought he could do the same thing king taiju did in black dragon, but he lacked the support of the common folk to do so — toman’s population was devoted to mikey like brahman’s was to takeomi, and king manjiro had the best sword fighters at his side, too. lord south’s convictions were a lost cause from the start. the council didn’t expect you to know so much about politics, and the look takeomi gave you made your heart race once more.

but the departure day arrived, and you were outside the castle doors with senju, tears falling from your eyes — it seemed like the sky was crying too, as a weak drizzle was falling from the clouds. maybe it took sympathy in your situation. your arms were tightly wrapped around haruchiyo’s middle, his hand patting your head. “do not die on me, haru.” as he promised the first time you two met, he became one of your best friends. you wouldn’t be able to function properly if something was to happen to him. “and… take care of the king for me.” you whispered the last part, your voice a mixture between worry and sorrow — the end of the war also meant the day of your marriage was closer than before. you loved haru, you really did, but he was your friend.

“have i ever let you down, y/n?” he smiled down at you, kissing your forehead. “and you take care of the little gremlin over there for me. do not let her dwell on her worries, she is exactly like takeomi.” you nodded, wiping the tears away. haruchiyo smiled again, and you let him go, watching as senju sobbed in her brother's arms. you wished you could hug nahoya and souya like that too, and not just send your regards towards letters.

thinking about your brothers, you didn’t notice the king standing by your side. he cleared his throat, and you blushed at being so close to him once again. “my lady.” he whispered, taking your small hand on his. the formality of his words were a reminder of what happened between the two of you three weeks ago, and you still could feel the sensation of his lips pressing against yours. “care to follow me?”

you nodded, letting him guide you through the palace gardens, heart throbbing inside your ribcage. you tried to not let your hopes up — he was probably going to break your heart once more.

takeomi squeezed your hand, waka’s words resonating inside his head. he stayed nights awake thinking if he should tell what he was feeling or not — you probably hated him now, but the prospect of dying and taking his feelings to the grave was more frightening than your hatred. he could endure anything, if that meant you felt something for him.

he stopped in the garden's gazebo, shielding you from the rain. before your lips could part and ask what was the purpose of it, takeomi started. “i… war is what i have known. i was raised to be a warrior, not a lover.” he was still holding your hand, and you squeezed it, encouraging him to talk. “but you… you made me wish i was one. and it is maddening the fact that i am sending countless men to their deaths, but all i find myself being able to think of, all i find myself being able to breathe for, is you.” the hand that was hanging at takeomi's side found its place on your warm cheek.

“takeomi…” you whispered, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and he shook his head, as if asking you to wait a little, because he wasn't finished.

“you have bewitched me, y/n, body and soul. i am not deserving of your forgiveness for breaking your heart, nor do i want to know your answer for my feelings now.” he chuckled at the puzzled look you gave him, and he had to restrain himself from kissing your lips once again. “i need something to come home for, and your answer will be my fuel to keep fighting.”

you nodded, a smile making its way to your lips.

“you will not marry my brother. if you do, i will spend the rest of my life wanting you, dreaming of you, and dreading the day i will lose the last shred of honor i have, so i can make you mine.” you blinked at his words, heart hammering inside your chest. did that mean…? “you will marry me, be my queen, carry my heirs.” takeomi murmured against your lips, and you nodded, too lost in the feeling of him to say anything else. however, before you could kiss him as you wished to, a guard interrupted you two, saying it was time for the departure of the troops.

your arms encircled his torso, and you held him tightly, not wanting to see him go. not now, that you knew how deep his feelings for you were. “do not leave me, takeomi. please.” you whispered against his chest, tears already falling freely from your eyes.

“you know i can not, my love.” you blushed at the term of endearment, hiding your face from his eyes, nuzzling it on his chest. “however, i can promise that i will try to come back for you in one piece, yes?” he cupped your face, wiping your tears and tried to smile at him.

“you better, or i will kill you myself.” you managed to joke, smiling through tears at the vibrations off his chest. “will you… will you take care of my brothers?” you couldn’t help but think about them, too. your brothers were the only family you have left, and you would be more than heartbroken to know something happened to them.

takeomi kissed your forehead. “i promise, y/n. they will be my brothers soon, i will put them under my wing.” you squeezed his hand and held it until you needed to be separated, watching as he walked away from you once more. this time however, the dread feeling in your stomach was worse than before, on that night in the library — you didn't know if he would come back to you.

you smiled one more time at him, watching as the rain became worse than it was before. from a soft drizzle, it became a pouring one, as if it was mirroring your own heart.

—

you never expected takeomi to write for you, but he did.

his letters arrived every monday, alongside haruchiyo's, nahoya's and souya's ones. you read your brothers ones first, of course. they wrote to you about how the war was faring, how they managed to defeated fifty men from lord south's side just the two alone, or how they thought the war was going to end soon. words of longing for your company and easy laugh were there too, especially in souya's letter, and questions about how the court was received the news too. you knew they were asked in the behalf of both kings and haruchiyo, too. their letters could probably be stolen by the enemy spies because of their positions, but your brothers being just dukes — and writing for a woman — was a reason for theirs to be overlooked. haruchiyo wrote the same thing your brothers' did — it was funny, because the prince now shared the same place with your brothers inside your heart.

however, the king's letters were filled with his thoughts.

how he hated being on the battlefield, being reminded of his best friend's death. how he dreaded when he needed to write a letter to a family because of their dead relative. or how the adrenaline of fighting made him think he was ten years younger, or how funny your brothers were to be around. but most importantly, how he loved you. how he wanted nothing more than to just come back to your arms, how he needed to kiss your lips once more. it was his fuel to fight, he wrote, seeing your face and hearing your voice again.

you and senju enjoyed gossiping about the content of the letters. she enjoyed hearing what takeomi wrote for you — she was the first you told about his confession, and she almost threw a party because of it. the princess admitted she and haruchiyo were almost locking you two inside a room until one of you confessed, and they even asked for lord wakasa's help. and it seemed to work, after all. in her letters, both takeomi and haruchiyo talked about tactical facts of the war, and you engaged on her talks about it. you knew she wanted nothing more than just occupy her rightful position, and you would be cheering for her when such a day arrived.

but on a monday morning, no letter from takeomi arrived. haruchiyo and your brothers wrote normally, and that made both of you worry. senju tried to comfort you, saying it was expected that some week they wouldn't receive anything from him — he was the king, after all, and he was probably busy.

the answer to why takeomi didn't write came on the wednesday, in a royal caravan with the king's unconscious body.

at first, you thought he was dead. his eyes weren't open and takeomi was pale, as if he was a ghost. the doctor explained that he received a head injury and lost so much blood, and if it wasn't for king manjiro, he'd probably be dead — takeomi was caught in an ambush done by lord south in the middle of the forest, while he and his men were coming back from patrol. you tried not to cry seeing his state, and when senju asked when he would wake up, the doctor said to give him a few more days, a few tears came down your cheeks. the doctor, sensing your distress, said he had already opened his eyes, but they're treating him with powerful herbs, and it was good for him to rest.

he left the room, leaving you three alone, and it was the first time you saw senju crying.

you have cried countless times around her, and you weren't ashamed of that. you were the crybaby of your siblings — nahoya expressed his sadness in the form of quietness, and souya was forbidden to cry, as, whenever he did that, he became too violent to bear with. you thought senju was like nahoya, and whenever she was too quiet, you tried to comfort her.

but the sight of her crying over takeomi's body, murmuring how he couldn't die on her, made your own tears start to fall down your eyes again. you understood her, more than she knew.

your arms found their place on senju's body, her head resting on your chest. “he is a fighter.” you whispered, your hand rubbing circles on her back. it was hard to see takeomi like that, and you didn't know where you gathered strength to comfort her. “i am sure he stubbornly fought lady death until she grew tired of him, and allowed him to live once again.” you smiled when you heard senju's teary chuckle.

when her sobs became whimpers, you and her took a seat at the round table inside the king's room, relaxing at the sound of his breathing.

“i… takeomi is my father.” she started, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “my own never spared me a glance, as he thought me to be the killer of my mother.” your heart clenched at the similarities of your childhoods, a sad smile on your lips. “and he… omi was the one who carried me when i scraped my knees, or the one who slept with me when i was too afraid of the dark.” you watched as she wiped away some tears. “he can not die, not when he finally allowed himself to love.”

you hugged her once more, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. “i… i am also the killer of my mother.” you admitted quietly, remembering the cold gazes your father gave whenever you tried to receive affection from him. “and i know what you are feeling. if something like that were to happen to my brothers, i do now know what i would do.” while nahoya and souya weren't what takeomi was to senju, they had always been your protectors — always ahead of you, but taking your hand and making sure you wouldn't fall trying to chase after them. “but you need to have faith in him. he will not die from only a head injury. he is the god of war, lord south was really a fool to think takeomi would fall so easily.”

you kissed senju's hair, returning to your place at the table. you two spend the rest of the afternoon talking about your experiences, and when time for dinner came, senju obligated you to leave the room to eat and get ready for the night — she didn't want to leave takeomi alone, and when you were ready, she would be the one to go. the implication of you sleeping in his room didn't go unnoticed by you, but you were content that if takeomi woke up in the middle of the night, it would be you with him.

you bid senju goodnight, a book in your hands. you took a seat on the ground, besides his bed, just like souya used to do with you when you were sick. whenever you were bedridden with sickness, the youngest twin would sit beside your bed and read to you until you were feeling better, and you wished your voice could bring the same comfort to takeomi.

you read and read to him, until your eyelids were too heavy with sleep, your head falling down to the comfort of his mattress, and you welcomed sleep as if it was your mortal enemy, keeping you from having your happily ever after with the love of your life.

—

takeomi dreamed of you.

he couldn't remember what it was, but he could hear your voice speaking to him. he wanted to reach for you, but something was impeding him — as if someone was holding his head underwater, not allowing him to take a breath. the last thing he remembered was seeing south terano shouting in front of him, until he held a sharp pain on his neck and everything went black.

and then he heard your voice.

takeomi tried to follow it as if he was a child chasing fireflies, and, when he opened his eyes, he was inside his room — and you were asleep besides his bed, his hand millimeters from touching your skin. he sighed. he was safe. and he noticed, as if lady destiny was trying to prank him, that he almost died as shinichiro did.

why did he survive, and his friend did not? he couldn't be better than shinichiro, no. but before he could dwell on his thoughts, you shifted on your sleep, and takeomi understood why he fought death so hard — so he could see your smile once more, so he could kiss your lips properly for the first time. yes, you were the one who saved him, without even knowing. and it seemed as if you did it again, if the book resting on your lap meant what he was thinking.

his hand was placed on your hair, and he started to stroke it. it was the tenderest touch he ever gave someone, and he smiled when he saw your eyelids fluttering.

you stayed in your position, eyes half open due to sleepiness, love for him dripping from them, thinking it was just a dream what was unfolding before you. but takeomi's voice was a reminder that he was awake, and alive. “foolish girl.” he whispered, his hand traveling from your hair to your cheek, and you leaned on his touch. his skin was warmer than it was before. “why do you love an old and bitter thing like me, when you have a world of possibilities on your hands?” he spoke as if he wasn't just thirty-one, as if he didn't know you couldn't control the desires of your heart — and you wondered what prompted him to speak so bitterly about himself.

but you just smiled at him, grateful that he came back to you. “because you saw me as my own person, on those nights in the library.” takeomi played chess with you like you were his equal, never looking down at you because of your gender. “you looked at me beyond the fact i was going to be the wife of a prince.” he always wanted to hear your thoughts, to hear what you had to say about anything. “i love you because of it and because of so much more, takeomi.” you whispered, planting a sweet kiss on his palm.

“come.” he gestured for you to sit on his lap and you did, thighs straddling his legs and arms around his shoulders, as he manoeuvred his body to be in a sitting position. his head found its place in the crook of your neck and his hands on your waist, and both of you sighed contently.

you pressed a kiss to his temple, worry on your face when you saw the injury in the back of his neck. “death is a jealous mistress.” you felt the vibrations of takeomi's chuckle on your body, and you smiled. “she tried everything to keep you for herself, did not she?” you cupped his face on your hands, your forehead resting against his. you knew how compromising your position on his lap was, and if anyone else entered the room, they would faint from seeing the prince's betrothed straddling the king’s legs.

“but i am all yours.” he whispered against your lips. “she will never win my heart as long as you are at my side.” takeomi promised, sealing his words with a kiss. it started out gentle and caring, but as the bottled feelings from weeks of not seeing each other were opened up, it became raw animalistic.

takeomi couldn't get tired of drinking on you. he was finally able to hold your body against his, to finally feel how soft your skin was under his fingertips, to feel what he fantasized every night when you left the library. he could see everything under your nightgown back then, and he had to almost restrain himself physically to not rip it and bend you over one of the desks and made you his, back then. but the gods were kind to this poor son of theirs, and the reward for being such a patient man was better than he could imagine.

he detached his lips from yours to plant kisses on your neck and collarbone, hands roaming on your back. yours were at his hair, messing it up and tugging on a few strands when he softly bite on your skin.

your body was hot against his, and the kiss left you breathless and reactionless too — takeomi could do anything he wanted with you that you would say yes, if that meant having him this close to you. it was almost like the effects of a drug you heard some knights saying once. now that you have experienced his lips and his touch, how could you live without it? how did you manage to survive without it for so long?

“i love you.” he admitted against your skin, his lips marking your throat. mine, it was what the marks meant. he held your head between his hands, and looked at you — and the more he did it, he came to the conclusion he loved you more than anything he had ever seen or imagined on earth. you would be the reason why he kept fighting every day — if someone spoke about you on his grave, they would watch as how the simple mention of your name would make him crawl back to the world of the living.

you smiled, tears making your vision glossy. it was what you always wanted to hear, what you fantasied him to say to you every time you came back from the library. something you deemed to be just a foolish dream. “and i, you.” takeomi was the dream your soul was unable to stop dreaming about, even if it tried its hardest to forget about him. and you hoped that from such a dream, others would come — others which would be a lifetime’s worth.

“i will start the preparations for our marriage as soon as i am out of this bed, do you hear me?” you nodded eagerly, a loving smile adorning your lips. “i can not wait to finally call you mine.” his hands started to roam your body again, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

“i already am.” you whispered back, and takeomi smiled. you loved it — and you loved to be the cause of it.

“then, would you mind if i do this?” takeomi asked while lowering down the straps of your nightgown until your breasts were exposed to him, and you felt your cheeks heat up. you never had been so intimate with a man like that, but you weren’t an innocent girl either. he did nothing, still waiting for your reaction, and you nodded shyly. “or this?” his thumb started to caress your hardening nipple, and a gasp left your lips. he hummed contently, his lips pressing a kiss in the valley between your breasts. “if you want me to stop, say so, my love.”

you shook your head in disagreement. “i… i want this. please, my king.”

takeomi chuckled. you were, indeed, the bane of his existence — but also the object of all his desires.

he took one of your buds in his mouth, warm tongue encircling it. your gasps and whispers were the most perfect melody he ever heard, and he groaned when he felt you grinding on him. but he did not stop his ministrations on your nipple, his hand pinching the other, and his other free hand holding you still in your place. he wouldn’t mind having you dry humping him, but he wanted to make you cum, not just from the friction of your underwear on his trousers.

takeomi looked up at you, and you were the most beautiful masterpiece he ever saw. cheeks flushed and eyes glossing with tears, lips parted to let your sounds grace his ears. but you couldn’t hold the lewd image of the king sucking on your nipples for too long, your eyes averting to the wall behind you two. he let go of your breast with a loud plop sound, adjusting the straps on your shoulders again.

“sit on my face.” he commanded, parting your legs even further to make a way for him to slide between them and be met with the sight of your clothed sex.

you gave him a puzzled look, and takeomi chuckled. “do you trust me?” you nodded shyly, and he grabbed your thighs, pushing you near his face by them. “i promise i will make you feel so good, my dearest.” he whispered before pushing up your nightgown, and you just whimpered in anticipation.

takeomi was a skilled man, yes, and on his younger days, he had fucked almost every single whore in the kingdom. his father wasn’t in approval of that, but he stopped as soon as the crown was put on his head — but he knew how to please a woman, and he was proud of that. he yanked your underwear down your legs, helping you to take it off before manoeuvring your hand to hold the front of your nightgown at your belly. grabbing your thighs again, he squeezed the soft flesh there, kissing the inside of one tenderly, but then making you yelp as he bit it. “make my face your throne, my queen.” he murmured before making your bare cunt meet his mouth, and you swore you saw stars.

it was hard to keep the grip on your nightgown with the way takeomi licked and slurped on your folds, as if he was a starving man who finally had his first meal in years. sometimes you touched yourself, learning how to do it with books you found in your brothers' room, but the sensation wasn't the same. your fingers could never be compared to takeomi's tongue, and you wondered how many women he did that before you. a wave of jealousy crashed over you, but before you could even think about it, you loudly moaned his name when you felt his tongue encircling your clit and toying with it.

tears of pleasure were coming down for your eyes, and grasped his clothed shoulder, trying to concentrate on the feeling of your nails entering on his skin rather than the way he was making you feel.

you tried to stay quiet, but you were sure everyone knew what was happening inside the king's room — and for the first time in your life, you didn't care. you didn't care how loudly you moaned takeomi's name when he made you cum the hardest you ever did in your entire life, you didn't care what you were being intimate with a man without being married to him. you didn't care for any of those things because you loved takeomi, and he loved you.

the king manoeuvred your body, so you were sitting on his lower abdomen instead, and you blushed seeing his face wet because of your juices. “you did so good for me. so good.” he whispered while getting up and, when he did, you scooted closer to his chest, feeling his hard on picking at your already sensitive entrance. “come, taste yourself on my tongue, my queen.” he cradled your face with one of his hands, eyes hooded with lust, and kissed you — and you let his tongue inside your mouth, moaning because of your taste and from the lewd action.

the kiss ended when he started grinding you on his hard on, and you whimpered. “please, takeomi.” you didn't even know what you were pleading — you felt as if he was going to ruin you.

“please what, y/n?” he asked in faux sympathy. you just whimpered, your hands starting to undo the buttons of his shirt, but he caught your wrist. “no, my dearest. we will only see each other fully bare on our wedding night, do you hear me?” you nodded, heart racing with such prospect. “but i need to know what you need.”

you opened your mouth a few times, watching as how his face gained an amusing expression. takeomi knew what you wanted, you came to such a conclusion, but he wanted for you to say it. he wanted the words to leave your plump lips. your hands started to fiddle with the waist of his trousers. “please, my king, fuck me.” you couldn't believe such words were leaving your mouth, and you were sure if anyone saw you like that, they would be horrified.

“as you wish, my queen.” who was he to deny you what you wanted?

in a few swift movements, takeomi freed his heavy cock from the confines of his trousers, aligning it with your entrance. he watched you to see if there was any hesitation on your face, and, when you nodded, he started to sink down your hips. “it is going to hurt. if you want to stop, tell me.” you nodded again, already dumb at the feeling of the head of his cock stretching you, but he needed to hear it coming from your lips. “y/n, tell me if you understood.” takeomi commanded, sinking your hips a bit more on his length, and you whimpered.

“y-yes, i understand.” he smiled at you, closing the distance between your faces once again. maybe his kiss would be good to distract you from the foreign feeling.

tears were glossing your vision, and you let out a shaky breath when takeomi let go of your hips, his cock fully burried inside your walls. it was a… strange feeling, but you needed to move. his fingers rubbed your swollen clit for a few moments, trying to give you pleasure instead of pain — and also to distract himself, but he could cum just from the feeling of your thigh walls around him. “omi, please, can you move?” you asked, grabbing his shoulders in desperation.

“you should be the one moving, my dearest.”

you whimpered, and he chuckled, cooing in faux sympathy at your pleading eyes — but takeomi grabbed your hips and started to move them for you, bouncing you on his cock. at first, it was at a low pace that made you desperate for more, but once he felt both of your highs coming, it became animalistic. your hips would have bruises from how hard he was grabbing them, and the sound of skin against skin, as well as your moans and his groans, could be heard from miles away from the castle. it was shameless and the smell of sex was intoxicating, but none of you was in the right mind to care if anyone was listening.

“play with your clit for me, yes? need to feel this sweet cunt tightening even more around me.” you nodded, hand shyly making the way towards your bundle of nerves and toying with it as you did many nights before you met takeomi or even went to brahman. the king groaned loudly at how tighter you became with your orgasm approaching, and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

he rested his forehead against yours, quickening the peace of your hips. “i am going to give you a b-baby.” he managed to say in between his groans and your whimpers. “going to make you a mama, would you like it, my dearest?” takeomi slammered his hips hard against yours. “your pussy is telling me yes.”

you nodded, almost desperate. “please make a mama, takeomi. i want to have your babies— please, please, please.” you babbled, as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you came for the second time that night.

the feel of your walls clenching around him was too much, and soon takeomi's seed was painting your walls white. you were breathing hard, and you fell limp on his chest. he helped you to slid out of his cock, smiling at the mess his pelvis and your thighs were.

you nuzzled your face on takeomi's chest, not wanting to move. “i am sorry.” you blinked your eyes at him, confused. “for breaking your heart.” you opened your mouth to answer, but he put a finger over it. “it was wrong of me to push you away while the only thing you did was love me.” he kissed your head, and you sighed, contently. “i hope you find yourself being able to forgive me, so i can mend what i broke.”

you giggled. “do you really think you need a better answer to this than me carrying your seed in my womb, takeomi?” you asked, a playful tone lacing your voice, smiling at the pink shade dusting his cheeks. it was funny how embarrassed he looked, even though not two minutes ago he was saying the most lewd things to you.

“let's get cleaned up, shall we?”

—

takeomi was a man of his word — and when he said he was going to make you a mother, he really did.

everyone inside the castle was overjoyed to see their king walking in the morning after he arrived from the war. you were helping him, your hand supporting his back while he leaned a bit on you for support, and you cried alongside senju when she saw her brother awake — even though she scolded him for being a workaholic that couldn’t rest for five minutes. takeomi explained he had an urgent matter to discuss with his counselors and the princess smiled knowingly at the two of you.

at the end of that day, you were betrothed to the king of brahman, instead of the prince.

the news was, surprisingly, well received. there were, of course, some courtiers who said you were a witch who put a spell on their king — mainly jealous mothers that had hope of seeing their daughter as queens one day. haruchiyo was more than overjoyed with the news, senju as well, and your brothers just said that you should do whatever made you the happiest you would be. people back in toman, souya told you in the day of your marriage, were quite surprised to know one of them was going to be takeomi’s queen, but king manjiro approved the fact that takeomi wouldn’t have any hindrances to help toman if war came again.

the war ended two weeks after you and takeomi became betrothed, with king maniro killing lord south in battle for what he had done to his brother’s best friend. instead of a typical celebration party, all kingdoms were reunited in brahman to witness an event they never thought would happen. manjiro, emma, ken and keisuke were in the altar alongside senju, haruchiyo, benkei and wakasa — your families would now be one. you walked down the aisle with your brothers, and you swore you saw nahoya shedding a tear. the coronation came after the wedding, and you blushed under the intense proudly gaze takeomi was giving you.

you smiled at all the kings and queen around you, all of them eager to ask how you managed to defrost takeomi’s heart. manjiro was the first one, and you recalled foundly moments of your childhood. then came izana, the king of tenjiku, accompanied by his loyal advisor, kakucho and his wife, who had a noticeable bump — you and takeomi shared fondly looks watching as how kakucho treated her, hoping to be you and him in a few months. the last was king taiju, a towering man who seemed to have greatly respect for your husband, and his wife, that you recognized as the cousin of the late royal family of black dragon. they were polite, but you could see the daggers the queen of black dragon threw at her husband with her eyes every time he touched her.

the night ended with the typical bedding ceremony, emma and senju helping you to get ready for your husband, while takeomi and his friends waited outside, chatting and drinking. that night, he didn’t let you sleep, seeing that three weeks without your body under him was the worst martyrdom he ever went through.

two months after your marriage, you discovered your pregnancy, himari at your side.

the kingdom was overjoyed to hear the news, and you held takeomi as he cried and kissed your belly, promising to not be like his father to his unborn child — saying he would love them regardless of their gender, and that he would always support and be proud of them. haruchiyo and senju were already making preparations for the baby, and nahoya and souya were too, but to be with you when you were in labor. everyone was cautious about it, and you told the doctors about how your mother died in your labor, almost three years after the birth of the twins. they calmed you, saying that nothing would happen to you.

marriage life was a blessing, and you proved to be a reliable queen.

you, wakasa and benkei were the trustworthy advisors of the king, and the duke even joked saying they were indeed in need of a feminine gaze. even if sometimes pregnancy forbidden you from participating in meetings — despite what they said, the doctors were keeping a close eye on you — you were always the first one takeomi searched for when he needed an opinion.

you two needed each other, for big and small things.

“omi, my love, stay still.” you commanded him, razor in hand, while his face was covered in what you supposed was shaving cream. “i will not be able to clean your face if you keep caressing my belly.” you huffed, giggling when he caressed it again. you were sure the baby was going to pop out at any time — himari said your belly was huge, and she could feel the little baby kicking when she helped you bathe. “i might even cut you.” your husband wasn't an expert in shaving himself, and you always scolded him when he appeared with small cuts in his face. asking your brothers for help wasn't a delightful experience, but since their last visit, you started to shave takeomi's face weekly.

he just smiled at you, and you rolled your eyes. “how do you want me to keep still when i have two of my favorite people near me?” the love shining on his face was adorable, and you asked yourself why he didn't find himself to be worthy of such a future.

“keep still.” you whispered, and he obeyed you, even though takeomi's hands were shaking from not touching you. the king was anxious to meet his child, more than anyone would know.

you finished right when himari entered the room, helping you get ready to start the day. you and takeomi had a routine of your own, and it was mesmerizing how in sync you two were with each other's needs. he knew what you wanted for breakfast just from looking at your face, and you knew when he needed to take a break by the glint in his eyes.

breakfast was delicious, as always, and the talk was about yours and takeomi's baby — everyone was excited to meet them, the future ruler of the kingdom of brahman. especially his aunt and uncle. they already loved them so much, and you couldn't ask for a better family to marry into. nahoya and souya were already jealous, but since they were already coming to visit and stay until the due date, you knew your child would know the love of their three uncles in the same intensity.

after breakfast, the family was reunited in the study room. it was supposed to be a day off for takeomi, but it seemed that he had important matters to discuss.

“y/n.” haruchiyo called you, and you redirected your attention to your brother-in-law, closing the book you were reading. “do you want to know a secret?” you nodded, watching as senju seemed interested in what he had to say too. “if i run and leap at takeomi, he will most definitely catch me.”

“i dare you.” senju was the one who spoke, and you nodded in agreement.

haruchiyo smiled at the two of you, getting up from the sofa. “coming through!” he said before running in the direction of your husband.

“no haruchiyo, wait, i have paperw—” you and senju watched mesmerized as how takeomi let go of the papers as haruchiyo jumped on his arms, and the sight of a twenty-two grown man being held by a thirty-one one was too much for you and the princess to bear.

laughter filled the room, but yours died as soon as you felt a sharp pain in your lower back. tears pricked in your eyes, and you were brought back to reality by takeomi's hands cupping and caressing your face. “y/n, my dearest, what is happening? are you alright?”

“i think… i think the baby wants to meet everyone now.”

—

it has been five hours.

five hours since himari put you in the birthing chambers, five hours since only she and senju were allowed to be with you.

five hours since he started to hear your screams, and takeomi couldn't do anything to ease your pain. he wasn't a stranger to labor — he was ten and eleven when his siblings were born, and he knew how painful it was, just from the screams of his mother. but now it was different. he loved his mother, yes, but seeing the love of his life screaming as if she was being tortured was too much for him to bear. was it what his father felt when he and his siblings were coming out of her womb? was it because of the pain of losing their mother that made him such a cruel and heartless man?

he understood, now. if anything happened to you, takeomi knew he would burn down a kingdom to avenge you.

haruchiyo, wakasa and benkei were waiting with him in the room across the birthing chambers, food and drinks untouched. all of them had worry expressions in their faces. your screams weren't ones of a woman giving birth to a child — they seemed like the ones of an animal being eaten by its predator.

wakasa was giving side glances to his friend, knowing exactly what he was thinking. that you were going to die, that he shouldn't have married you or even allowed himself to fall in love with you, how he was only bringing pain into your life. but before he could say something, anything, that would put takeomi's mind at ease, the doctor left the birth chambers. that was not a good sign.

“my king.” the doctor bowed, takeomi's eyes bore holes on his figure. “i am afraid you might need to make a choice.”

“... what?” takeomi voice was small, almost breathless, and that wasn't the king speaking. it was the prince, the boy who, twenty years ago, was sitting with his father and his advisors in the same room, watching as the doctor proclaimed the same words, but regarding his mother.

the doctor gulped. “if the situation worsens, who should we save? the baby or the queen?”

silence filled the room. nobody dared to say a thing, not before takeomi got up and pressed the doctor on the nearest wall, his hand holding him by the neck — almost choking him to death. “if you… if i lost either my wife or my child, i will hang you in the public square for treason.” his voice was low, but in the quietness of the room it seemed as if takeomi was screaming. ��you will save both of them, are you listening to me?” he let the doctor go, watching as he nervously bowed, returning to the birthing chambers, your screams returning.

how his father said the doctor could kill senju? how could he have almost given up on his child so easily? both you and the baby were equally important for takeomi, but he knew — deep down, he knew he would prefer you to be alive. and that made bile rise up to his throat, and he saw red.

his animalistic instincts took over, and he started to kick and punch and scream at anything in front of him. the food and the drinks were spilled on the floor, the tables were broken on their legs, the nature painting above the fireplace was ripped down by his bare hands. nobody dared to say a word — it was the most emotions they saw the king displaying since prince shinichiro died, but the three spectators were worried. worried takeomi could do something to hurt himself if he lost you, worried he could do something to the innocent doctors and nurses who were trying to make his wishes come true.

the king fell down to his knees, his throat sore and tears streaming down his face. he couldn’t lose you, he couldn’t — you were the light inside him, and if he lost you, he would fall to darkness again. but he couldn’t wish for his child to die too. they were innocent being, and takeomi hated himself for having such thoughts. “mama…” he whispered, wishing nothing more than to have her warmth and her kind words to soothe him from such excruciating feelings. his hands hid his face while his body was wracked by sobs.

his body was enveloped in warmth, not his mother’s, but takeomi broke down.

“i am not mama.” haruchiyo whispered, his arms around his brother shoulders, his long fingers caressing takeomi’s hair. “nor do i know what she would do if she was here.” he only knew what person his mother was from his brother’s memories, as their father refused to speak about her. but both he and senju resemble her in appearance, and he wished he had had more time to be with her. “but i am sure she is looking down at us and protecting y/n. as her mother is, too. mama would never let lady death take y/n away when she makes you so happy.”

takeomi nodded, his head hid on his brother’s shoulders. he was pathetic, wasn’t he?

“you are not pathetic.” benkei spoke up, a hand on takeomi’s shoulder. did he say that out loud?

wakasa kneeled down next to them. “you love her. how can such a beautiful feeling make you pathetic as you think you are?”

takeomi nodded, and haruchiyo's arms tightened around him, benkei letting go of his shoulder. “i… i love you, takeomi. and it hurts me to see you this way.” the younger akashi confessed, his own eyes wet. it wasn't easy for him to see his best friend suffering like that, and his brother — the man who raised him, who made him the man he was now, even though their relationship was strained from last mistakes — suffering in consequence, was too much for him.

the king stiffened around his baby brother's arms, too surprised with his words. oh, if he could turn back time — he would never have pushed haruchiyo to be something he didn't want, he would never say harsh and rude words to him, trying to prepare him for court life, he would never push him away when he only needed comfort to make him stronger. “i love you, too. so much, haru, so much.” now it was time for the older brother to embrace the younger, and takeomi engulfed haruchiyo in his arms the same way he used to do when they were kids. “i am sorry.” haruchiyo just nodded, and takeomi opened one of his arms, giving his friends a small smile. “come in, you two. you are my family, too.”

the four men stayed in each other's embrace for what seemed like hours, until senju appeared in the room, a big smile on her face. “y/n is calling for you, brother.” that meant everything was alright, right? kissing his sister's forehead, he walked to the birthing chambers — a walk, that in the last time he did, he had his heart heavy.

the doctor and the nurses bowed when he entered, and takeomi's eyes fell into the birthing bed, expecting to find you like his mother was — pale, with heavy eyes and not an ounce of strength on your body to hold the baby. but you were glowing. even though your hair was glued to her head due to sweat and your gown was tainted with your own blood, the smile you gave takeomi could rival the sun. and in your arms rested the proof of his love for you, the promise he made you when he tired of pretending you didn't make him wanting to have what shinichiro told him to. his vision became glossy again, and he smiled at you, walking and kneeling in front of you.

“it is a baby girl.” you whispered, watching as how your husband seemed dumbstruck looking at your little baby. his eyes were wide, and his mouth was slightly agape, and you contained the urge to pinch his cheeks. “our baby girl.” you cradled her even more in your arms, smiling down at her when he opened her eyes — big and green, just like her father's. “do you want to hold her?” you asked your husband, giggling at how excitedly he nodded.

she was so tiny. takeomi didn't remember his siblings being that small, or if he was the one who grew up too much. “i thought i was going to lose both of you.” he whispered, his daughter's eyes looking curiously at him, as if she could recognize his voice — from the countless hours he spoke to her when she was still inside your belly.

“we would never do that to you.” you shifted in the bed, trying to get more comfortable. “but she is stubborn as you.” as if your daughter didn't look like her father already. “and she decided she did not want to come in last minute and made me work harder than i was supposed to.” the green eyes and the small plums of black hair were already proof that she would be the carbon copy of him. you didn't care, though. “the doctor said you threatened him.” you gave your husband a dirty look, and the rumble of his chuckle made the baby girl more aware of her surroundings.

“i really did. i should apologize to him.” takeomi chuckled once more, getting up with his daughter cradled in his arms. she was just a few minutes old, and she already had him wrapped around her tiny fingers. he kissed your forehead. “i love you.” he whispered, and you murmured the same words back, a tired, yet proud smile adorning your face. you didn't notice when everyone else entered the room, and it seemed like senju was needing to restrain haruchiyo from meeting his niece.

you smiled. you loved your family, and couldn’t wait until your brothers met their little niece.

takeomi looked at you again, and you nodded. “all hail to the future queen of the kingdom of brahman, etsuko akashi.”

#akashi takeomi x reader #akashi takeomi #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #— june writes.

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liquorisce · 2 years

Note

Just for fun but Mikasa is a career corperste exec with no time for dating or men (doesn't help that many of the men in his work are dickheads or pigs). One day her car is acting up so she brings it into a shop, where she meets Eren; he's rough and uncouth but he's also ruggedly handsome, muscular and treats her with every courtesy her Co workers never could. He gives her a fair price and tells her to come back tomorrow to pick it up, which she does. Deciding to put put caution to the wind for once in her life, she asks him out and Eren just can't turn down such a beautiful woman.

This is so her!! She’s such a go-getter, ambitious and smart and so focused on her career. It’s that attitude that actually puts her in this mess - her car’s been crying for attention for days but she’s like “meh, it’s functioning so I’m just going to keep driving it to work and back.” Until one day, on the way to a very important meeting, it refuses to listen to her anymore.

She tries fixing it herself, opens the hood and stares at the engine and all the other stuff, tinkers with things she has no knowledge of until it makes a really horrifying noise and splutters gunk all over her suit. That’s when she gives up. She just barely manages to make it into the nearest garage, which just happens to be Eren’s and she’s nearly in tears bc her immaculate suit is ruined and she is late for her meeting.

Handing it over in a hurry, she rushes to take the call over Skype, having to deal with yet another male marketing executive who talks less business but more unnecessary flirting along the lines of “It would have been more fun to talk about this if I could see your pretty face in person,” and she’s this close to telling him she’s thankful she doesn’t have to see his ugly one for one second more than necessary.

She swears so loudly after hanging up, she forgets that she’s still in the garage until she hears Eren laughing, and then she blushes. “Rough day, huh,” he asks her, his head still in the bonnet of her car. “Rough work,” she says frustratedly, until he looks up at her, arching an eyebrow sardonically. “Sorry,” she mutters, “… I can imagine it’s not the kind of rough your job is.”

He’s incredibly handsome she suddenly realises, tall and broad-shouldered, looking incredibly fine in his black vest. “Nah, working with cars is incredibly smooth. It’s people that are tricky.”

She can’t agree more. “Anyway,” he says with a smile, “… I can imagine you’re a busy woman. I’ll have your car ready by tomorrow, and I can write you up a receipt so you know how much it’s going to be.”

…

She’s back the next day, earlier than the time he gave her, something she never does for work meetings because the men she has to work with almost always use the time to behave inappropriately. But if she’s honest with herself, she’s been waiting to be back here since the minute she left, and it’s not just because of her car. He’s cute, this mechanic who’s name tag said “Jaeger”, and a small wry smile that stayed with her the whole day.

She wants to smack herself because it feels like she’s the one being inappropriate now. But she can’t help the way her heart skips a beat when their eyes meet, when he smiles in that way of his again, and he waves his hand to tell her that he’ll be with her in a sec. She watches him hand over his tools to the guy he works with a shorter guy with dark skin and closely shaved hair. His colleague elbows him playfully, and winks and she can see Jaeger swat him off, looking slightly embarrassed.

When he comes closer she can see that she was right, his cheeks still faintly pink, and it’s actually really fucking cute. His hair is pulled into a man bun, a style that she never thought any serious man would ever attempt, but she’s starting to think she should be a little less opinionated about these things because he’s making her reconsider a lot of things.

“I see you were in a hurry to get your car back,” he says, glancing at his phone. They still had 15 minutes to the pick up time. “Ah yeah, I just thought to try my luck,” she says, trying not to sound uncharacteristically shy.

“Well then, you’re in luck,” he smiles, pointing at her car. “I actually fixed it up last night, you’re good to go.” And he fishes out the keys from his pocket and hands it over to her.

“Thanks,” she says brightly, albeit somewhat disappointed that this exchange already seemed to be over. She doesn’t know how to ask more about him, how to ask his first name maybe, what does he do for fun, is he single.

She’s low-key embarrassed at how much she’s been thinking of this, it’s something she’s never done - she’s always been the careful, meticulous kind. He has such an intriguing grin, she can’t help but smile back and mutter a goodbye as she takes the keys and slides into the car.

As she starts the car, her heart’s pounding, and she watches him get back to his colleague who seems to be asking something animated, and Jaeger just shrugs, runs a hand through his hair.

There’s something about him that’s just easy, relaxed but not completely carefree. Warm smiles that have treated her with more respect than any of her shitty colleagues ever have. It makes her want to believe in men again.

Before she knows it, she’s lowering her window, and yelling, “Jaeger!” It’s the voice of a woman she can barely recognise and when he whips his head back in surprise, a small smile on his features she can’t help but smile back. He walks back towards her and asks, “… Can I help you with anything else, ma’am?”

She blushes at being called that, wonders if he’s teasing her in a way, if he knows what’s on her mind. “It’s Mikasa,” she says shyly and his green, green eyes crinkle attractively. “It’s a pretty name,” he says. There’s a moment, an awkward moment, where she doesn’t know what to say - just an incredibly hot mechanic with his arm resting on her car, peering down at her through her window, with his handsome face. “… Do you um,” she’s stuttering - she never stutters - “… have time for a coffee sometime?”

She wants to hide herself, because it’s stupid, so out of the blue, and it’s never going to be successful because she’s never responded well to these kinds of advances herself. But instead, he just yells to his colleague, “Connie, can you hold down the fort for a bit?” And then looks to her and says, “Yeah, what about now?”

- love these two so much ❤️❤️❤️ -

#eremika #anonymous conversations #hot mechanic eren

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cupidmybeloved · 3 years

Text

valentine's day│georgenotfound

summary: if there's one thing george hates, it's valentines day. this year, y/n decided against being alone and set up a surprise movie night for her and her dateless neighbour. when the day ends george comes to the conclusion that maybe valentines day isn't so bad after all.

warnings: none

a/n: ngl i kinda really hate this post but oh well i'm posting it anyways. also oops valentine’s day post in april

wc: 1k

george let out a sigh as he read the date in the bottom right corner of his laptop. february 14th. the day known best for stuffed animals, hard heart-shaped candies and, most importantly, love. the majority of people looked forward to the 14th, wondering if they had received any chocolates from secret admirers. george however, despised it. every year red hearts were plastered wherever he looked. unfortunately for george, instead of the bright red and pretty pink, all he saw was an ugly and unpleasant shade of brown. not to mention, he was lonely every year as well.

a buzz from his phone caught his attention. a text message from you. come over was all it read. george cocked an eyebrow in confusion but nonetheless, he complied. after all, anything would’ve been better than moping all day in his dim-lit room. as george made his way to your door he pondered about why you, his next-door neighbour whom he may have a teensy tiny crush on, wanted him to pay a visit.

just as george’s knuckles were about to knock onto the wooden door that stood before him, it abruptly opened, slightly startling him. george was instantly met with your charismatic smile (one of the reasons you were his favourite neighbor, unbeknownst to you).

“hey! you’re finally here” you greeted, excitement lighting up your eyes.

“calm down, it was only what? five minutes? what did you need me here for? i could’ve been on a date for all you know.” joked george.

“oh don’t be silly, you and i both know that the day one of us gets a date is the day pigs fly. which is why i invited you over. together we’re going to celebrate loneliness!” you exclaimed.

“celebrating loneliness without being lonely? sounds legit to me” he replied, a witty smirk etched into his face.

“oh shut up, you know what i meant. now close your eyes and follow my lead so i can show you the surprise. don’t peak or i’ll make sure both sides of your pillow are warm.” you giggled as you grabbed onto his pale, slender hands and cautiously dragged him inside.

your short journey didn’t end up being so cautious after all, as george had managed to bump his head into almost every piece of tall furniture and decor you owned. in your opinion, it was just his fault for being so lanky.

“you can open your eyes now” you said.

george didn’t waste any time opening his eyes, head filled with anticipation. george’s eyes finally adjusting to the brightness of your living room, noticed different shades of blue littering the space. there were heart shaped balloons, bunting banners, streamer garlands and even blue flower petals laid across the floor. this was completely different to the disgusting colour he had grown accustomed to seeing annually on valentine’s day.

“do you like it?” you squeaked out, eyes trailing down towards the ground.

without warning, you were swiftly encased in a suffocating hug, large hands wrapped around you. looking up you noticed how big george was smiling, in the three years of being his next-door neighbour, you’ve never seen him this joyous before and it filled you with triumph knowing that you could make him so happy.

“how did you find all these valentine’s day decorations in blue? did you get them custom-made? that would’ve cost you a fortune. oh please tell me you didn’t get the custom made for me-“ his worrisome rambling was cut short with your giggles.

“no no don’t worry i got them for almost nothing, party city got shipped a misprint and had them in the clearance section, i saw them and instantly thought of you. oh and some of the decorations are for gender reveals” you answered sheepishly as you pointed towards the tablecloth with it’s a boy! written all over it in fancy gold lettering.

he bursted out into laughter, you joined in chuckling. george’s knees felt weak from all the laughter and he almost fell to the floor thinking about how only you would even think about using gender reveal decorations for valentine’s day.

as georges dark brown eyes trailed across the tablecloth they stopped at the giant load of treats and chocolates carefully arranged on the table.

“come on, let’s grab some snacks and watch a movie together” he suggested, still in hysterics from the gender reveal decor.

and so the two of you spent the night cuddling against one another whilst discussing theories and watching films. your favourite theory to talk about was that giants had once existed. you enjoyed rambling on about it as much as george enjoyed listening to you go on and on about it.

the netflix show was playing quietly as your eyelids fought to stay open, not so you could keep watching the show but so you could continue admiring george and little details that you adored oh so much, like how his mouth would twitch on the left every time a character would say something snarky or how he would clench his fists in anticipation for a jump-scare.

“george?” you whispered.

“yea?” he mumbled.

“thanks for keeping me company today, i appreciate it” you drowsily muttered as you let sleep win you over and fell asleep on top of him, head huddled into his neck and arms sprawled across his chest.

george glanced down and smiled at your sleeping figure.

“those pigs must’ve touched the moon by now” george hummed to no one in particular.

aha get it? bc earlier on she said the day they would get date is when pigs fly? no? mkay i’ll leave

#georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound #fluff #gnf #gnf x reader #dsmp x reader #dsmp x y/n #georgenotfound x y/n #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader

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the-hopeless-haze · 3 years

Text

Oh, My Precious Whore

A/N: didn’t really think I’d ever be posting fic on here again… but I am tired and need a distraction so… have this as a treat

Pairing: Claire Underwood x f!reader, implied Duncan Shepherd x f!reader

CW: derogatory pet names, implied smut (will not occur in full until the next part)

Description: idk this is just pure filth bc there’s a severe lack of f!reader fic and… Robin Wright is hot af. Also had to throw in some Duncan in there bc I love Cody Fern

Maybe you should feel worse right now about what you’re doing, but you don’t.

You, at the very least, should feel scared. The Underwoods, or well, Underwood... she was a powerful woman and if you stepped a millimeter out of place your life was likely in danger. Or so they said. Your in-laws were wary of her, you know, but she was wary of them, too. You think. She’s a difficult woman to read.

The rumors concerning the crimes her late husband supposedly committed are lengthy and convoluted, but you suspect they hold some truth to them. Most rumors usually aren’t based totally in fiction. Her husband was truly a ruthless motherfucker. Claire... Claire doesn’t seem to be ruthless. Nor does she seem to be what you would describe as a motherfucker.

No, she’s a cold hearted bitch. A bitter, sociopathic cunt.

But you never wanted what was good for you.

Sometimes, you swear you love Duncan and you wish it was easier to convince yourself. He a good husband, all things considered. Perhaps a little too focused on work, but... he treats you well to make up for it. He is loyal to a fault, if anyone ever was. You met him through a friend, and though it makes you feel guilty you used him in a vain attempt to get closer to Annette.

But Annette didn’t swing your way, as she told you in not so many words. Or, rather, she said, “Just be a good pet and marry my son. You on his arm will do well for everyone all around. Your dalliances on the side are no one’s business as long as you keep them secret enough that not even Duncan finds out.”

So you agreed, and accepted his proposal you figured she no doubt hounded him into. It’s not so much that you don’t like men, you do, and Duncan is such an attractive man, and he’s a thorough lover... it’s just you suppose you have a preference for women. Older women. You used to joke in high school that you wanted to be a high-end escort for rich older women getting away from their CEO husbands for the weekend.

But your parents would have never approved of that plan. So you went to law school instead. Which was fine. You make decent money without Duncan, but with him you’re somewhat of a young, hot power couple. You’re not really interested in policy the way his family is - you just like ingratiating yourself amongst these people with influence. You get off on brushing shoulders with the powerful. Parties don’t mean much to you. Everyone is truly an evil son of a bitch, no matter what they say when the cameras are on. No one cares about progress, not unless it’s self-serving.

The first time you met Claire, you thought you might die. She barely gave Duncan a second glance but you? She stood and chatted with you about your latest case your firm had taken - how she knew about it among all the other things on her mind, you don’t know - but it was a pleasant conversation, all things considered. You know her and Annette used to be close. You wonder how much Claire does know about you.

You know you can’t trust her. At all.

But after that incident, Duncan grinned and shook his head. “Wouldn’t want to give credence to those rumors. She might have it out for you.”

“Rumors?” You asked, panicking already. Did he know?

“That Claire is a lesbian. It’s been floating around some circles, that that’s why she wasn’t truly upset at her husband’s death, that that’s why she’s pushing so hard for female rights. It’s interesting. It is the first time I met her, but having done so it wouldn’t entirely surprise me.”

You can tell. That woman probably isn’t a lesbian, or if she is, she’s very good at utilizing her charm to make it seem as though she’s not. If anything, you’d peg her as asexual. She uses sex as a weapon. Fair enough. You’ve seen even weaker women feel the need to use it.

You wonder if she’s ever had sex purely for herself and not for manipulation purposes.

You wonder if she could even do that. You reckon you don’t really care if you found out the hard way.

It’s a few weeks later that you receive a message stating the President required your audience. And you know you should tell Annette, or Duncan at the very least, but you don’t. You know you shouldn’t show up at all. But Annette said to keep your dalliances secret. So secret they will stay.

“How loyal are you to the Shepherds?” Claire asks when you arrive. Straight to the point. Good.

“As loyal as I have to appear,” you tell her.

Claire smiles a little. “Why did you marry Duncan? He doesn’t seem quite your type.”

“And what do you presume my type is?”

“Perhaps more feminine. Older.”

“Mm. And what is your type, Ms President?”

“Why did you marry him? Did Annette threaten to out you?” she repeats.

“Not in so many words,” you say.

“Hmm. Interesting. He has no idea, I presume?”

“Why did you call me here?” you ask, your anxiety getting the better of you.

“I need information on the Shepherds. And I believe I have something you’d want in return.”

Your head starts spinning, but no, spinning is an understatement. It’s fucking doing somersaults. You cannot believe what she’s proposing.

“You want to prostitute yourself to me for information?”

And Claire does the last thing you ever expected the bitch to do. She walks across the room and slaps you across the face. Hard enough to sting, but not as hard as you bet she could. You feel the cold metal of her wedding ring press against your cheek as she grabs your chin, her cold blue eyes piercing through to your soul. “Don’t you dare fucking accuse the president of the United States of debasement, and don’t ever assume you have the upper hand.”

“Claire—“

“Are we on first name basis, slut?” she asks, her hand slithering down to your throat. Holy shit, you think. This bitch might actually fucking kill me. You think you’d care more if this wasn’t possibly the hottest thing that ever happened to you. “I didn’t think so. Now. What are your loyalties? Who are you closest to?”

“Duncan, obviously. Annette lets her guard down around me because she likes that I think she’s hot, but she still doesn’t like me. Bill and I don’t get along.”

“Interesting. How much does Duncan know?”

“I know more than Duncan.”

“Really, now? Are you just saying that? Because if you don’t prove to be useful...”

“What? You’ll kill me?”

Claire laughs. “No, you’re much more fun to me alive. But tell me… do you know where Duncan came from?”

“I mean, I truly don’t know how Annette’s cunt could birth anything, given how much of a bitch she is, but…”

Claire smiles. “Yes. Much more fun alive. Duncan is not her child.”

“Well, that’s a relief I don’t have any chance of keeping the Shepherd bloodline alive,” you snicker. “Where did he come from, then?”

“I’ll tell you… in time. But you have to tell him, too. In front of Annette and Bill. I want them all to know.”

“They’ll skin me alive if they knew I was here.”

“Do you want to fuck me or not? These are my terms.”

“So that is why I’m here?”

She only smirks at you, the wrinkles around her blue eyes crinkling as she does. “Your attraction to me is far more interesting than... well, men are pigs, right? I’m sure you are well aware. But you, you look at me like you want to fuck me, sure, but you also know your place. You respect me, even if you try to talk back. Men don’t know any better.”

“Have you ever slept with a woman before?”

She only smiles. “Does it matter?”

“Just wanted to know if there was credence to the rumors.”

“Rumors? You’re quite bold. I’m the one with my hand...wrapped around your throat.”

“It’d be pretty messy for you if you killed me right now,” you retort, wincing and rubbing your legs together as she increases the pressure on your neck.

“You’ll learn not to talk back, whore. To think you’re a married woman...”

“Yeah? Did you hold your marriage sacrosanct?”

There’s that smile again. She’s beautiful, ethereal, but there’s something so inhumane about the way her lips move upward to smirk at you. Maybe you should learn to shut your mouth, but you always were a brat. Besides, it’s more fun this way.

“I did.”

“Liar,” you accuse, smirking at her as you do, and she lets go of your throat and before you can miss the feeling too much she slaps your face again, the right cheek this time, much harder than the first time. You let out a startled, strangled moan on impulse, stumbling back a little against the wall.

“Oh, did that hurt?” she coos at you condescendingly, fixing a piece of your hair that fell out of place as you stand back up, pressing your back flat against the wall for stability. Claire crosses her arms and stands directly in front of you.

“I can take it. I can take more than that,” you say boldly.

“Oh? What else do you like, slut?”

“You name it, I’m game.”

“Anything? Handcuffs? Whips? Knives?”

You nod at everything she comes up with. Jesus, you would let this woman carve out your heart if she wanted it.

“If I make you bleed?”

“Better.”

“Interesting. Does Duncan play these little games with you?”

You laugh. “No.”

“You only want a woman to do these things to you?”

“Precisely. Are you kinky, Madam President?”

“Whatever my partner requires... I make certain I provide.”

“But what do you want?”

“I’m a hard woman to please.”

“Oh. Is that the kind way of saying Frank wasn’t good in bed?” you ask, feigning sympathy. She only smirks again. “I’m surprised you didn’t slap me for that. He must have really been awful.”

“You think you could do better?”

“Women do everything better,” you laugh, earning perhaps the only genuine smile you’ve gotten from this woman the whole time. “That’s why I wanted to know if you’ve been with a woman...”

“No. But I’ve thought about it. Never had a woman as interested as you.”

“I find that very hard to believe. Maybe you just never noticed. What gave it away?” You’re aching for her to touch you again, give you anything, even pain, but she stands still in front of you.

“I can just tell. Besides, I was interested to meet you. You’re the Shepherd’s weak link. I knew Annette didn’t vet you carefully enough.”

“Are you saying me being gay is an issue?”

“Are you so naive to think it wouldn’t be, given the state of this country?” she retorts. “But that’s not all. I can tell you don’t like them. I could tell you were easy... on more than one account.”

You roll your eyes. “I fucking hate Bill. I mean it’s awful to say, he’s not doing well physically, but he’s just made life a living hell for me.”

“Why?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.

“I don’t know. Maybe he hates gay people. Maybe he hates women. Both. Don’t know.”

“So everyone knows but Duncan? Funny how he’s kept out of all the good family secrets that concern him.”

You sigh. “See, sexuality’s a funny thing. I like Duncan. I do. And sometimes sex with him is good if not great. He’s a good partner. But I just prefer women.”

“Must be nice to have it figured out. Your generation did have it easier.”

You look at her questioningly. You never thought someone like her was human enough to struggle with such a thing, but perhaps that’s an unfair assessment.

Or she’s playing you.

Still. She’d have to be quite a good player - not that you should underestimate her skill - to talk about something as personal as her struggles with sexuality. Straight people just don’t get it. Would she really be this easily well versed if it was a game?

“There’s still a long ways to go,” you say.

“I intend to rectify that.”

“Of course you do.”

Her eyes narrow at you and she tilts her head. “Do you think I should be doing better?”

“Yeah. Come out, for starters.”

“Says the woman in a sham marriage.”

“It’s not a sham. I love Duncan,” you protest.

“Then why are you here, selling out his family just for a chance to fuck me? You’re not much better than I am.”

“I don’t think I’ve told you anything yet. Besides. It’s not his real family… as you say.”

“No. You haven’t told me anything I didn’t already know. But I haven’t fucked you yet either, have I?”

“Touché.”

“Come over here,” she beckons, leaning against the desk and once again it strikes you where you are - the fucking Oval Office. Are you seriously going to have sex in the Oval Office? Conservatives would be disgusted by this (although it wouldn’t be the first time this office was defiled). “Don’t look so scared now. You can’t back out at this point.”

You nod, trying not to look as nervous as you feel and walk the few steps over to her, your legs inches from hers. God, you’re practically dying from the anticipation alone.

“Does Duncan ever tell you how beautiful you are?” She asks. You’re absolutely shellshocked. There’s no trace of sarcasm in her voice.

“Sometimes,” you murmur.

“Just like men to not appreciate what they have.”

“Mm. Frank didn’t appreciate you, Claire? Didn’t make you feel good? I would. If you were my wife I’d make you come every fucking day,” you say, and boldly you decide to punctuate that statement by pressing your lips to hers.

Mistake. Or maybe not, you don’t know.

Her hands tangle in your hair and you feel her stand up, press against you firmly before backing you into the desk, pushing you onto it until your back is flat on the wood, and she’s hovering over you, her lips ghosting yours.

“I’m a hard woman to please,” she reiterates and you realize she never fucking lost her breath while you feel like the wind was knocked out of you. “I’m ambivalent about attention in general. But look at you, whore. You crave it, don’t you? Just want someone to tell you that you’re a good girl... oh, look at you squeeze your thighs together. Are you wet for me, slut?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” You ask, spreading your legs slightly for her.

She shakes her head, her straight platinum locks shifting as she does so, brushing against your face. “See? You’re not a good girl. You’re a dirty filthy whore and you just don’t know when to shut that whore mouth or close your fucking legs.”

You stay silent - you’re not sure what to do now. Do you antagonize her, push her further, see if it will rile her up again? Or do you try and kiss her again?

Claire has other ideas. “Beg,” she hisses in your ear. “Get down on your knees and beg for me.”

—- and I am evil and ending it there! Plz let me know if I should continue this!

#claire underwood #Claire Underwood x reader #duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x you #Claire Underwood x you #duncan shepherd x reader #house of cards #hoc #wlw smut #wlw fic #robin wright

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