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iceunhie · 20 days

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HEART TO HEART — aventurine

premise ⁠☆ the five times aventurine bares his heart out to you, and the one time it works in his favor (or, in which aventurine says he loves you, in his own little ways.)

a/n ⁠☆ lovesick aventurine, i repeat super lovesick aventurine this is not half-assed, originally for @aventurne but then i decided it was for all but mei you will forever be known as the one who started this all ily, reblogs are appreciated. reader is the same reader from make a bet !!

The first time Aventurine opened up to you, he thinks that you looked like what starlight could be in human form.

Granted, no starlight would be able to keep him on his toes this much, though.

He speaks your name like a victory falling upon his lips, a measured weight in its cadence. Aventurine relishes in the way you look alert, placing your attention on him (and him alone), sticking to his side like the faithful subordinate that you are.

He's come to learn that you don't exactly do friends—you are the very image of professionalism, never crossing the lines you shouldn't cross; and if he’s not careful, you could disappear at the slightest touch, just like starlight. (Would it kill you to stay just for him?)

“Have I ever told you that you look prettier when you smile?”

You pause from your game, looking up from the chessboard you and your co-worker, boss, and give him a look that one can truly only enjoy if they were either a masochist or someone who enjoyed another's disgust of them. “About 25 times now, Aventurine.”

“You've been counting? I didn't know you loved my praise that much.”

Sometimes he feels the urge to always compliment you—because this is the only way for you to keep your eyes on him, to only look at him, and Aventurine has always loved looking at your eyes. (If he kept looking, would he convey his heart to you?)

You scrunch up your face. Cute. “What?”

“Nothing.” Fondness bleeds from within him, the Kakavasha of old seeping into the cracks of his hollow shell. Aventurine plays gambles, risks death, yet this feeling of elation is something that triumphed in all of that.

He wonders if you notice; if you know that his honeyed words are genuine, as genuine as a liar like him can be. Aventurine wonders if you can tell that every poke and prod hides the underlying meaning of desperation—the words he can never bring himself to say because he thinks he's far too unworthy (for you). Still…

“I hope you know that it's true.” Just this once, he’ll let you see, just this once. “I mean it. You look prettier when you smile.”

Just this once, Aventurine thinks. He’ll bare his heart to you just this once. It's a gamble, a risk; a gamble he wants to risk.

And indeed, perhaps this is what Gaiathra’s blessing is for.

He sees you bristle like a cat, so wary—but he sees the flush coating your cheeks, reaching well up to the tips of your ears, and he knows he's won. Checkmate. “That's such a lame compliment.”

“How cold.”

(To love is such an unpredictable thing.)

—

Aventurine has only three words to describe himself: loser, liar, and murderer.

He can think of other words too, like useless, stupid, disgusting, unworthy… a plethora of ugly, demeaning, visceral words—how fitting for a person like him.

There's another, too. Greedy. He's greedy. Whether as Kakavasha or Aventurine, the hunger to consume all lingers fresh in his mind. It's a need that knows no end, embittering all he cherished, cherishes. Like an iron chain upon his neck. He's greedy for solace, freedom; death, and—

“Aventurine, are you okay?”

(You.)

How truly fortunate he is to behold your expression, when your concern is as slim as the chances of a collision of planets; when the expressive range of your emotions towards him range from either exasperation or irritation.

His smile feels rotten today, unbearably sweet. “Are you worried about me?”

“You…” the traces of care don't slip from your expression despite the annoyance that betrays your tone. “Be serious here—you haven't been sleeping, have you? What is it? Is Sir Diamond assigning you yet another impossible mission?”

“No.” He doesn't know what's more agonizing. Knowing you care (and always have cared) for him, or knowing that he's making you go through all this trouble just to care for him. He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “It's just a minor upset, don't worry.”

He doesn't want to be indebted to you. Rather, he doesn't want you to see him; vulnerable, weak. Allowing you to freely enter his study as he's buried under piles of duty bound work just to come across one of the rare times where he's just Kakavasha—alone, and shouldering everything even if it kills him.

Worst of all, Aventurine feels that if you see him, you’ll find out just how ugly he truly is. And then—you’d leave. Like starlight, out of reach; never to be seen again. (Humans cannot survive without the light.)

“Then I'll get you something to eat at least, so you can-”

“No, wait.” He speaks your name like a plea, and you stay. Relief floods through his senses.

Aventurine thinks that perhaps because of the vulnerability he's exposed, you've even become softer. Because why else would you look like that, looking at him like he's worth something? “What is it, Aventurine?”

“Can you stay by my side?” There's a crack in his voice that he wishes to hide, but you don't mind anyway. “Just this once.” Please.

“...Okay.” He doesn't know if he wants to comprehend the meaning of your expression. “I'll stay. As- As much as you want.”

Aventurine thinks that his heart has already been consumed, his greediness becoming his downfall. Why is he just like a fool whenever he's with you? Do you know how dangerous this is, saying these words to him? At this rate…

They say that to covet what must not be coveted is one’s downfall, and Aventurine is no different. His eyes trail over your form, every inch of the stardust that make you. “Thank you. Really.”

Aventurine has only three words (and more) to describe him: liar, loser, and murderer.

“Don't thank me, Aventurine. Just—get some rest. I'll be there when you wake up.”

But now, watching you stay by his side; he supposes he can add another one to his list.

A fool. (a lover.)

Well, he’s been called worse.

—

Envy is a face Aventurine has long grown accustomed to seeing.

He saw it as Kakavasha; the look others give when they see his eyes, when they look at his profile. As Aventurine, he sees it in the eyes of space traders as they gaze upon his wealth, how the eyes of others fall onto him as he walks past.

But the fact that he also wears its mask is ironic, especially given the subject of his envy.

The third time Aventurine bared his heart out to you, it had been an accident. In his foolishness, Aventurine had slipped up.

He shouldn't be jealous, envious of those who get to help you with the IPC’s missions. It is the right, sensible thing to do; because you make him feel illogical, unable to comprehend in the haze of longing.

(Perhaps lovesickness isn't too far off a word.)

This is why you make him break free of his self-imposed apathy at seeing you off. Aventurine checks the file you'd be heading off to. Pier Point.

In a sense of uncharacteristic recklessness and perhaps brought upon by his longing; Aventurine ends up seeing you off.

“I'll get going now- Aventurine….?” your words falter when you watch as your co-worker strides toward you, terribly fast. “I thought you weren't coming to see me.”

“I can't have my dearest friend leave without seeing their handsome colleague’s face.” he says, like a liar. Small mercies to his ability to divert his inner feelings—and to not think about the fact that seeing you makes his heart throb in an ache no hunger can satiate.

You scoff, and thankfully you don't seem that irritated. If anything, you're in a good mood today. Even let him see the way your head tilts to bite back a smile. “How fortunate of me then.”

(He is.)

“Extremely.” he calls your name like a wager, seeking an answer. “How long are you going to be away this time?”

“Almost a month, maybe.”

“...I see.”

He's sulking, you can't help but laugh. Like a golden retriever. “Why so glum? Don't tell me you'd miss me.”

And for all his grace at maintaining his carefully crafted mask, Aventurine's whole world stops when he hears the sound. “How could anyone ever not miss you?”

You pause mid-laugh. Aventurine feels his face heat. He slipped up. Again, because of you. Because you always made him feel as though the universe could stop and end with you; and that this rotten hunger that gnawed at his bones might just be that he cared for you far too much for his own good.

…And now he felt like he wanted to fall back into a sandpit and hide there forever. “Is that what you think, Aventurine?”

(The way you say his name is so intoxicating.)

“Maybe.” He can't look at you right now, or else he'll imagine it—how could you ever feel the way he feels for you? When you were you and he was… him.

“Then come with me next time.” you look at him as though he'd break at any moment; tender. There's something else, too. “If you'd miss me that much.”

You flash him a cheeky, lovely smile, and Aventurine falls.

How unfair you are, capable of reducing him to bits; bringing him to your light and making his heart set off like fireworks in the night.

For now, he will be Aventurine—he could never resist such a tempting offer, not when its weight was far more valuable than any treasure of all. “It would be my pleasure.”

—

Aventurine has always thought that the space in his heart is empty because it was meant to be.

Because he is not worthy of feeling—he is a tool to be used; every part of him taken away and exploited away by others at their whim. In short, he is his best bargaining chip at any stability in his life.

“Aventurine, you’ll catch a cold if you keep forgetting to remove your coat.”

But you don't think that way, and it confuses him, to say the least. Like a shooting star, traces of your existence are specks in his life that have become far too important for him to let go.

Whether it be indulging in his whims of poker, allowing him to see the sight of your expressions in embarrassment and resignation, or the subtleties that have led him to believe (at least, he hopes to believe) that you do care.

And each time, Aventurine embeds your name into his heart even further.

Even now, as you hand him a towel and take his wet coat out of the way, Aventurine doesn't know if this is a blessing or a curse. You are always like this—overwhelmingly blinding, tethering himself to you without warning with your compassion. “I won't get sick.”

“Uh huh. And I'm Qlipoth the Preservation.” your eyebrows raise, and you take him inside. “I don't want to end up taking care of you if you will, so consider this a precautionary measure.”

“Seems I'm in luck, then.” He laughs, genuine. You're probably the only one to be able to bring out this part of him. “Such an angel you are.”

“Stop patronizing me and dry off already.”

“Alright alright, no need to get so fussy.” he throws up his hands in surrender, and he waits until you leave his quarters, strides measured as you give him privacy to change.

Aventurine wonders if you know just how much he loves you. Because he knows he does.

(He has already reached a conclusion.)

Perhaps the reason the space in his heart is empty was because you had been dictated to fit in it, and that Aventurine knows he’d never want you to leave.

—

Grief haunts Aventurine like a ghost, an old friend. Anguish whispers in Kakavasha’s ears and dictates its path to be his destiny.

But love comes in the form of Aventurine’s adoration for you.

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to die?”

(Yes, he did. He has always wondered.) “No.”

“Why are you asking?” It is a mundane question, spoken atop the glamourous balcony as you and him look down at the glittering streetlights in Penacony below, watching the people of the dreamscape live the life their reality never brought them.

“No reason. Just… I wondered.” You hum, and Aventurine notes the miniscule shiver of your body, the lowering of your gaze; you're thinking about something again. (He wonders if you'd let him listen to what you want to say.) “What death might be like in this dreamscape.”

Instead, his silent question comes in the form of his coat draped around your back. There's no motion of rejection from you, which makes him feel nice—even if it's just for a while.

“Thank you.” You didn't need to thank him. Aventurine knows that he'd do anything for you anyway even if you don't ask a thing. Because he knows that no matter what, this game with his heart on the table shall always lose in favor of you.

“For what it's worth,” Aventurine says, the characteristic lilt of amusement in his voice gone, replaced with something authentic, “I wouldn't want you to die.”

Never. “I don't want you to die either.”

(If only you knew.)

“Hehe, I wouldn't go down without a fight.” he says, and Aventurine takes you in—the ways in which you gaze upon the scenery below, watching how you chuckle as you hear the loud countdown to the fireworks, the way your voice has always been the light, his adoration for you a stone to grab on in his gamble in life.

There's silence. Loving you is like loving the way the air fills your lungs as you breathe, because loving you was as natural as breathing in the sandy dunes of the place he once called home.

(Instead, you took its title for yourself.)

He speaks your name like it's the last thing he could ever do, and that through you, Kakavasha lived, and Kakavasha loved you.

And like always, it's there. Your attention, on him, as he always knows it will be (and as he always hopes it shall be.) as you gaze at him like he's the brightest star in the sky. “What is it?”

And when Aventurine finally bares his heart to you for the fifth time as the burst of fireworks ricochet across the skies, he hopes those three words will reach you.

bonus: the time aventurine bares out his heart to you, and he gets rewarded.

Aventurine’s hair has always reminded you of the color of gold. It is the color of the sunlight as it gently basks against your skin, the color of expensive champagne the man next to you so favors, and the color of the edges of his sunglasses.

(You've always been fond of yellow.)

"Aventurine?" you say, tone light, urging him to wake up. He's truly relentless, adamant on sulking as though his most valuable treasure would slip away from his grasp like you are right now because you were running late. "Can you let me get up now?”

“Good morning to you too.” purple eyes greet your form and an arm winds itself around your waist, pulling you even closer. “And unfortunately for you, I'm afraid I don't want to.”

“I'll be late. You know Jade hates tardiness-”

“-And I would be devastated to not have my lover by my side and leave me heartlessly.” Aventurine feigns, the falsity of his hurt not affecting you at all.

“You…” You frown at him, and Aventurine kisses the crease of your eyebrows of your face, enjoying the way your cheeks flush the like burn of alcohol down one’s throat. “You're so insufferable.”

“Mhm, whatever helps you let out that ire of yours.” he looks at you like he would the most precious of ores, the most valuable of cards—Aventurine looks at you unabashedly, wholly, in affection.

“Will you ever let me be on time?”

“Would you ever let me stop loving you?” he presses a kiss to your palm, tender as his hand traces circles on your palm. Aventurine already knows the answer.

“Really, you're just…” you sigh, but it's exasperatedly fond, and Aventurine’s heart skips a beat. He finds his answer when you press a chaste kiss upon the edge of his mouth. “So insufferable.”

Aventurine laughs, and the die is cast. “If I am, let's make a bet then.”

“Ugh, not another one of those.” you groan, but you make no notion to refuse anyway.

“Sway my heart enough to let you go.” he smirks, cunning as ever.

You roll your eyes, though it's nothing if not affectionate, determined glint shining in your eyes just like starlight.

“Deal.”

Recently, he's come to a conclusion; Aventurine thinks that if it's with you, no gamble is worthier than this.

end notes im gonna kms i hate the ending like actually hate it this fic is the product of boundless hatred and the urge to never show it to the light ever but here i am

#mhie's spirals #—stellaronhvnters #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine HSR #aventurine x reader #everyone say thank you to ieyn because she was the one who said the ending had to be fluff instead of aventurine dying in reader's arms ^^

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sainamoonshine · 2 months

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The scene in Exit Strategy where MB is recovering from accidentally deleting its brain is always so funny to me because basically its been telling us all along that it doesn’t know what it wants but as soon as it wakes up with no filter, no memories and no ability to control its mouth it sure as hell tells us what it doesn’t want lol

Like it immediately wakes up and starts complaining like

- I don’t want to be a pet bot

- I don’t want to be human

- I don’t like Gurathin (but Ratthi is my friend I guess)

- Your ship is old and shitty

- I don’t like planets

And then it hits us with the emotional hit of « I don’t like planets because 1. Something is always trying to eat the humans and 2. They’re harder to escape ». And like ouch because yeah okay MB just told PresAux that escaping is always on its mind, but it also just told them that escaping is always its second priority after protecting the humans 🥲

But mostly its grouchy and complaining about everything and that is just deeply funny to me. Deadly murder construct get its opportunity to express its deepest, most unfiltered thoughts for the first time and just immediately starts airing petty grievances and telling you your ship sucks ass

#murderbot #the murderbot diaries #exit strategy #gurathin

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incognit0slut · 3 months

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Right Kind of Wrong (Epilogue)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Series Masterlist Part Summary: The couple finally finds the happiness they both deserve. Part Warnings: nothing really just implied smut, fluff, and happily ever after

Author's note at the end!

...One year later...

"WE NEED TO LEAVE."

The urgency in his voice carried a subtle tone of exasperation as the words softly left his lips. The urgency wasn't overtly pronounced, but it lingered in the air, urging her to quicken her pace. She focused her attention on the bathroom mirror, hastily slipping into the dress chosen for the occasion of the night.

"Give me five more minutes!"

"We're already five minutes late!"

"And whose fault is that?" she retorted, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

She could almost imagine the incredulous expression on his face from the other room as he responded, "Mine? Really?"

"Who insisted on spending this afternoon watching a documentary about the wonders of deep-sea exploration?" she teased.

"In my defense, it was fascinating," was his immediate reply. "Did you know there are creatures down there that look like they're from another planet?"

"I know, Spencer, we watched it together, remember?"

"You fell asleep halfway through it."

"Well, in my defense—" She paused, struggling with the zipper of her dress. "You were really warm."

His laughter resonated from the other room. "So it's my fault you're taking forever to get ready now?"

"Absolutely, it's a cause-and-effect scenario," she replied, her arms stretching behind her in an attempt to reach the stubborn zipper. A sudden strain and a high-pitched groan escaped her lips. "Ouch!"

His concerned footsteps approached and he appeared at the bathroom doorway. "What's wrong?"

She winced, rubbing the sore spot on her back. "I strained my muscles trying to zip up this dress."

He raised an eyebrow. "Need a hand?"

She shot him a mock glare. "Are you insinuating I can't handle a zipper?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Of course not. But if we want to make it to Rossi's place on time, maybe a little help won't hurt."

She glanced at him from the mirror as his gaze lingered on her dress, tracing the contours that hugged her figure. She noticed the subtle appreciation in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the effect the outfit had on him. A playful smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she sighed in mock defeat.

"Fine, but no funny business."

He slowly approached her, gently taking the zipper in his fingers. "No funny business."

She felt his presence as he settled behind her, the air carrying a subtle warmth that seemed to dance across her skin. Instead of immediately tending to the zipper, his fingers, gentle and deliberate, traced a tantalizing path along the exposed skin of her back. His eyes met hers in the mirror, and for a brief moment, time seemed to slow.

"Spence," she breathed out, the name carrying a subtle plea for him to continue or to stop—she wasn't entirely sure which.

"Hmm?"

"I thought we were late."

He smiled, the corners of his lips lifting in a playful yet knowing expression. He held her gaze as he leaned closer to her, brushing a feather-like kiss on her shoulder.

"I believe we can spare a few more minutes," he replied, the timbre of his voice holding a warmth that echoed through the space between them.

She couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. "And what, may I ask, do you plan to do with these 'few more minutes'?"

His lips lingered on her shoulder for a moment longer before he pulled back, still maintaining their proximity. "Well, I was thinking of using them to properly appreciate how beautiful you look tonight."

Her cheeks flushed with a combination of flattery and playful embarrassment. "Very smooth."

She could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin as he spoke, and a teasing glint sparkled in his eyes. "After all, punctuality can sometimes be overrated, don't you think?"

She chuckled. "Coming from someone who likes to be punctual."

"Maybe I've learned a thing or two from you." His fingers traced a gentle pattern on her exposed back, and he murmured, "Besides, Rossi wouldn't mind. We have more important matters to attend to."

She arched an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips. "And what might that be, Dr. Reid?"

He pushed the strap of her dress down her shoulder, his touch gentle yet filled with a subtle urgency. His fingers traced a delicate path along her skin, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake.

"You," he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down her spine.

As his lips met the exposed curve of her shoulder, a soft sigh escaped her. "Baby... are you really trying to have sex right now?"

"Why wait when the opportunity presents itself?"

She couldn't help but laugh at his sudden change of mind. "You're impossible, you know that?"

He grinned, a boyish charm lighting up his features. "Guilty as charged."

Before she could respond, he dipped his head and sucked on a spot right below her ear. She breathed out a moan and leaned back into him, giving him better access. When she felt him tug down her dress impatiently, her rational thoughts flew out the window.

"Fine," she agreed, letting her dress fall around her feet. "But make it quick."

As if to answer her challenge, he scooped her up in his arms with unexpected strength. Her laughter mixed with a surprised gasp as he carried her towards the bedroom, his lips finding hers in a hungry kiss. Quick was a concept they never quite understood when it came to their sexual needs, but maybe they could entertain the idea, starting from now.

They were an hour late.

Fifty-six minutes, according to Spencer, because apparently, he measured the exact time it took for them to arrive at Rossi's house.

Although calling his place a house seemed like a mockery considering how big the property was. It was more like a mansion, and even when Spencer had taken her here a few times ever since the early stages of their relationship, Rossi's place never seemed to seize her amazement.

The host of the night didn't even bat an eyelash when they arrived, he didn't mind their tardiness. The other team members, however, couldn't resist making comments about the couple's late arrival, and the teasing became even more persistent when the girls cornered her at one point in the night.

Penelope raised an eyebrow with an impish grin. "What took you two so long?"

She wasn't sure how to answer the question. Should she just be honest and tell her she was being fucked in different positions? Penelope didn't seem to be the type to judge, granted, the first time she was introduced to her, the perky blonde woman didn't have much filter on her mouth to begin with. But she also didn't want to discuss her sex life with her boyfriend's colleagues.

She contemplated her response, weighing the balance between honesty and maintaining privacy. Penelope's inquisitive gaze lingered, and she decided on a response that offered some truth without delving into the details.

"We lost track of time," she replied instead, keeping it intentionally vague.

Emily leaned in, a smirk playing on her lips. "Is that so?"

She laughed, her cheeks flushing even more. "It's not what you think."

JJ joined in the teasing, "Well, someone is glowing tonight. I hope you at least have a good excuse for being fashionably late."

"Actually, we were discussing the intricacies of deep-sea exploration."

The girls exchanged amused glances, and Penelope quirked an eyebrow. "Deep-sea exploration, huh? Is that the code for something?"

She laughed. "It's about a documentary."

They exchanged a knowing look, clearly unconvinced by her vague explanation. Despite the embarrassment, she couldn't deny the warmth that spread within her. It was a strange yet comforting feeling, knowing that they had something special that others could only speculate about. When Penelope and Emily left to refill their drinks, JJ leaned in closer to her.

"We're sorry," she insisted. "Spencer never had a serious relationship before, we couldn't stop teasing."

She smiled appreciatively at JJ's sincerity. "No harm done. I understand it comes with the territory, especially with Spencer."

JJ smiled, her expression softening. "Just wanted to make sure you're okay with it."

"I can handle a bit of teasing. Besides, it's all in good fun, right?"

JJ nodded, a friendly smile on her face. "Absolutely. He's a great guy, and we're just happy to see him happy."

She followed JJ's gaze, watching Spencer engage with the kids. His eyes lit up with childlike excitement as he performed a silly magic trick, and the children erupted into giggles. The older child, who initially seemed to act as if he was at a big boy age, now wore a huge grin and eagerly urged Spencer to perform another trick.

She couldn't help but smile as she witnessed his effortless connection with them. It was a sight that made her heart swell with affection. A year ago, she could only dream of such moments. The happiness that Spencer brought into her life was beyond her wildest expectations. Not only was she in a happy and steady relationship, she was welcomed into his world.

The memory of visiting Spencer's mother, a year prior, resonated in her thoughts. Witnessing his patience and tenderness with his mom had moved her to tears. It was a moment that spoke volumes about the depth of their connection and the kindness embedded in his character.

Now, a year later, even when she had interacted with his teammates before, she couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude. Their presence made her feel as if she was embraced as an additional family member to this tight-knit group. The realization touched her deeply, and her eyes lingered on Spencer with so much affection, reaching a point where her heart felt like it was on the verge of bursting.

"He's really good with kids," JJ suddenly said, bringing her back to reality.

She smiled, a warm feeling coursing through her. "Yeah, he is. It's amazing to watch."

JJ nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Have you ever thought of having your own?"

The question hung in the air, and she took a moment to consider it. The idea of starting a family with Spencer had crossed her mind, but discussing it with someone else made it feel more tangible, more real. She took a moment, her gaze drifting back to Spencer, still enchanting the kids with his magic tricks.

"I... I think about it sometimes," she admitted, her voice soft.

JJ's smile widened, and there was a glint of genuine happiness in her eyes. "You two would make wonderful parents."

The compliment warmed her heart. The thought of a family with Spencer, navigating the joys and challenges of parenthood together, painted a vivid and hopeful picture in her mind. Yet, it was also a conversation they hadn't explicitly delved into.

She looked back at Spencer, his laughter mingling with the children's joy, creating a symphony of happiness. The idea of sharing these moments with their own children felt like a dream she hadn't dared to fully embrace. His gaze suddenly met hers and he waved in response.

JJ leaned in, her voice softer. "Whenever you're ready for it, just know you have a whole team here ready to support you both."

A mix of emotions swirled within her. Spencer, seemingly sensing her emotional state, excused himself from the impromptu magic show and approached them.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his brows furrowed with concern.

JJ gave her a knowing look before patting Spencer on the back. "Just sharing some girl talk, don't worry."

He quirked an eyebrow but didn't press further. JJ slowly excused herself and now that they were alone again, he pulled her closer to him, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She leaned into his comforting embrace, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, I'm more than okay." Her eyes then trailed over to JJ and her kids again. "They seem to adore you."

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with genuine happiness. "Well, I adore them too."

A comfortable silence settled between them. She wasn't sure it was the right moment to have this discussion, but she found herself voicing her curiosity, even when her heart was beating fast. "Have you ever thought of... having kids?"

Spencer's gaze softened as he considered the question and she waited with bated breath for his reply.

"I used to, but then I've always been focused on my work and solving cases." He paused, his fingers gently tracing circles on her back. "Although lately, I find myself thinking about it more, especially with you."

She let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding. "With me?"

"Who else would I be thinking of having a family with?"

She couldn't help but smile at his response, a warmth blooming in her chest. "Fair point."

His thumb continued its gentle movements on her back. "The idea of creating a home together, it—” he let out a sigh. “It sounds like a dream."

Her heart skipped a beat. "It does, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. "It really does."

They stood there, wrapped in the warmth of shared dreams and the quiet excitement of the future. But then her smile faltered, a subtle cloud of worry casting a shadow on her face. Spencer sensed the shift and gently tugged her. "What's wrong?"

Her eyes reflected a hint of concern. "I... I haven't had my period this month."

His own brows furrowed as he performed a quick calculation in his head. "Of course, you haven't, you're due—" his words trailed off as his gaze met hers. "...two weeks ago."

She wasn't sure which one was more surprising—his knowledge of her menstrual cycle or the fact that she was two weeks late. The weight of the situation settled in, and just as anxiety started to swell within her, Spencer's face transformed into a wide grin.

"Oh my god," she gasped. "Spence—I... what if...?"

His grin widened, eyes filled with a mix of excitement and joy. "What if we're going to be parents?"

She threw him a ludicrous look. "How are you not panicking?"

He laughed. "Didn't we discuss how great it would be to start a family?"

"Well, sure, somewhere in the future, not now."

He led her away from the festive atmosphere surrounding them to a quieter area out on the back porch. When they were finally alone, he stood in front of her, making sure his body was shielding her distraught face.

"Hey," he said gently, cupping her face in his hands, "This could be a wonderful surprise. We just talked about it, right?"

She nodded, but uncertainty still lingered in her eyes. "Yeah, but it's so sudden. I didn't expect it to happen a minute later after we discussed it. What if we're not ready? What if—"

"No one is ever fully ready for a significant change, but we have each other, and we'll figure it out,” he cut in, his thumbs caressing her cheeks.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "But... w-what if I'm not a good mom?"

His gaze softened, and he cradled her face in his hands. "Are you kidding? You'll be an amazing mom. I've seen the kindness, strength, and love in you. Those are the qualities that make a great parent."

Her heart swelled at his words. She sniffled, a small smile breaking through. "You really think so?"

"I know so," he affirmed, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

A sense of calm washed over her as she absorbed his words, holding him closer. It was scary, yet nothing was certain yet, and there was no use in her worrying. He gently wiped away a tear she wasn't even aware of.

"We'll take it one step at a time. And no matter what happens, we have each other and a lot of people who care about us."

Her eyes traveled towards the group of people behind the glass window. The same people who had saved her life, the people who took care of her, the people who embraced her with open arms.

She slowly nodded, feeling a mix of emotions—fear, excitement, and so much affection. "Okay," she whispered.

"You know I love you, right?"

She softly smiled, a tender warmth enveloping her. Her thoughts traveled to the first time he confessed his love for her, remembering how flustered and embarrassed he had been. Now, those three words came effortlessly, carrying a depth that only time and shared experiences could carve.

"I do," she whispered, her gaze lingering on him. "And I love you too."

He smiled affectionately. "We'll get a test pack on the way home."

He then brushed a strand of hair away from her face and leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The irony of her initial thoughts about how wrong it was to be involved with him crossed her mind. The circumstances that once cast shadows of guilt over her feelings now seemed to dissolve, replaced by an overwhelming sense that everything was right.

Their bodies melded together seamlessly, and the way his lips brushed over hers felt nothing short of perfect. She couldn't help but feel that what initially seemed like the wrong path had led them to this moment. It was the right kind of wrong—a beautiful contradiction that had crossed their lives together in ways they could have never predicted.

And the two lines greeting them later that night were evidence of how right everything was going to be.

Author's note

When I started this series, my goal was to give him the happy ending he deserves and a proper love interest. One that had a back story, one that clearly didn’t die, and one that would make him a dad! I wanted to portray a story as if you were watching a Spencer-centric plot on the show. (Although with the amount of smut here, I doubt it could be aired)

And with that being said, I apologize for any inaccuracy of the crime/mystery plot. Although it's not perfect, I'm pretty happy with how this turned out throughout the eight months this story went on. Yep, EIGHT MONTHS. This was my very first post on this blog and I'm deeply attached to it.

So thank you for reading, commenting, sharing, interacting, and just accepting me and my ideas. It's also safe to say that I won't be writing another series in the near future, but I will still be posting other things.

Again, thank you so much. I love each and every one of you💕

taglist #1

@tereresrock @casthings @vader-is-hot @maevethelesbian @whereintheworldisspencerreid @reidverseq @niyahwhoreworld @l4venderia @theintrovertedthespian @lovelyxtom @tayzerr-72 @mulbsstuff @dorothleah @stevenknightmarc @prettyboyspenceee @gracesmusings @kalulakunundrum @fearlessmoony @r5court @simp4f1 @thecrazytealady @nyeddleblog @ghostheartbeat @comfortzonequeen @iiheartbowie @busy-buzzing @imtherealslimmoony @baeofevery @elamultistan @lyxennz @additi @donttrustlove @notahappystan @daisiesfor-mylove @pinkpantheris @jamieeboulos @thegeniusreider @bxtchopolis @kr-1-sta @emotionalsassqueen @shqwqrma @super-nerd22 @violetvsworld

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redstarwriting · 11 months

Text

the clash | ii. time bomb

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 1.5k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, y’all almost fight twice lmao

a/n: felt bad only posting the first chapter, so here’s the second one as well! i’ll get the third one out as soon as i can, but a bitch has work tomorrow and the next day. please enjoy chapter two everyone! and if you wanna be added to the taglist just let me know! :)

now reading: ii. time bomb

previous chapter: i. hey, ho! let’s go!

next chapter: iii. black planet

───────────────────────────────

Hobie swings his way to where he’s sure Gwen is, and in doing so he will probably also find Miles and Pavitr. He’s sure he looks like if someone said the wrong thing to him, he would punch them in the face, because honestly? He just might. And he doesn’t care. You pissed him off. With your stupid opinions. People like you are the reason anarchy can never succeed, you’re either all in or you’re all out. He hates the way you dismissed him, which is a shame because he really thought you were drop-dead gorgeous.

Speaking of drop, that thought makes him drop. Like, actually. He face plants.

He groans. Fucking hell, he’s never had to deal with this type of hatred before. Usually, it’s just cut and dry ‘I hate you cause xyz’, but fuck you are making it hard. While he hates you for what you said, he loves your style, and he respects you standing your ground and not giving into him with your beliefs, but at the same time, you piss him off. He glances around, “Meant to do that.” No one in particular hears him, but he quickly webs off again. He searches for bright blond hair, and sure enough, he sees Gwen. She’s chilling in the common room Hobie claimed as his own a while back. He claimed it by… redecorating. He just made it feel more like home, and since Miguel is such a lame ass, he didn’t appreciate all the colorful spray paint and broken furniture. But Hobie doesn’t really give a fuck. As he gets closer, he can see that Miles and Pavitr are there too, and… absolutely fucking not.

He lands directly next to you with an unamused look on his face. “And who invited you into my home away from home?” You look at him and roll your eyes. “This your place? Well, that explains why it looks like someone gave Mayday Parker a 50-pack of markers and told her to go to town in here–”

“Ha ha. Funny.”

“–and to answer your question, I invited myself,” you say smugly, and he narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t try to make me like you, it’s not gonna work, love,” he growls, and everyone can tell by the way he said love that he certainly did not mean it as a term of endearment. “I wouldn’t dream of it, mate,” you say, imitating his accent in over-exaggerated way. “I don’t think they are actually calling him their mate,” Pavitr whispers to Miles, who gives him an expression practically dripping in ‘no shit.’ Hobie tears his gaze away from you and looks at Gwen. “We need to show this twat around,” he huffs, and Gwen raises her eyebrows. “We? Isn’t that your job,” she says, and Miles nods. “Yeah, I remember you said you made a deal with Miguel that–”

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s my ‘job,’ when have I ever followed the rules of a fuckin’ job?” he seethes, and you snicker. “Aw, how endearing, the punk rebel has a job. I’ll be sure to go to Miguel and tell him you’re doing amazing, so that you don’t get fired, in fact, you could get promoted!”

“That’s it,” Hobie growls and turns to you, grabbing the neck of his guitar and getting ready to use it. You smirk and slightly crouch, ready to jump away or towards him, based on his next move. “OKAY! Okay, we’ll help you just put the damn guitar down,” Miles says, jumping between the two of you. Hobie looks at him before looking at you with a deep frown. “I don’t need help. I just need to make sure other people are here, so I don’t murder this nitwit,” he says, tossing his guitar back so it hangs off his back again. “If anythin’, you’re helpin’ them.”

“I don’t need help either. Especially not yours. I’ll find my way around here myself,” you say, crossing your arms. He turns and offers you a smile. “Well now that you say you definitely don’t want my help, looks like I’m gonna be that friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and assist you.”

“My hero,” you say sarcastically, pushing past him and walking out of the room. He motions for the others to follow you first, and walks out last, slinking in the back. Gwen takes up the role he usually plays in showing everyone around. You nod and listen, occasionally asking a question and cracking a joke. He hates to admit it, but your jokes are actually very funny. It’s refreshing to hear deadpan, straightforward, dry comedy instead of the puns and silly jokes all the other Spider-People love to make. But he doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even crack a smile. Just watches you.

‘Like a creep,’ you think, catching him staring at you for what feels like the 50th time. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the attention you were getting from him. Truthfully, he’s probably the most attractive person you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Such a tragedy he’s also the worst person you’ve ever had the displeasure to speak with.

“Your suit is so cool, by the way,” Miles says to you, and you give him a grin. “Thanks. Made it myself.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” you hear Hobie pipe up, and your head snaps towards him. “Because it’s so stylish, fashionable, and better than anything you could do yourself?”

“No. ‘Cause it looks like it was put together by a colorblind toddler. If you look close enough, the blacks don’t even match,” he says, smirking. Now this was a lie. All the black in your suit was a perfect shade of raven, he just knew it would piss you off. And it did. “Fuck you. At least my suit doesn’t look like a twelve-year-old who just discovered Hot Topic for the first time,” you hiss, and he scoffs. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth there, mate.”

“You watch yours, mate.”

“Okay, both of you shhhhhhh!” Gwen says, and you both look at her. “Don’t tell me what to do–”

“Stop talking like me!”

“What?! You stop talking like me!”

“Oh my God, the romantic tension is through the roof right now!” Pavitr suddenly pipes up, and now the both of you are staring at him, dark expressions on your faces. “I’d rather be eaten alive by a single piranha so it would take days until I finally succumbed to the sweet release of death,” you hiss and Hobie nods. “Finally. Somethin’ we agree on.” He turns and looks at you, and you roll your eyes at him. “Way to de-escalate, buddy,” Miles whispers to Pavitr, and Pavitr sighs as Miles walks a little faster to catch up with everyone else. “But I was being serious…”

Gwen continues to show you around, and when she finally finishes, you all are back at ‘Hobie’s common room.’ You walk back inside and sit on the tattered and broken-down couch. The way the room is decorated is kind of cool, you must admit. You’re just not a fan of the mismatched colors everywhere. And it could use a couple more decorations. Like bat skeletons. Or just live bats. That would be adorable. “Thanks for showing me around,” you thank Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr. “Not you, though,” you say to Hobie and he snorts. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to thank me for anything.”

“Why do you two hate each other so much? Didn’t you literally just meet?” Miles asks, looking exhausted from the snarky remarks coming from both of you. “We did,” you confirm. “And we don’t get along cause they don’t have any strong belief system.”

“Yes, I do! I’m just realistic, and he can’t understand that,” you say and he rolls his eyes. “Realistic, eh? I already told you I led a rebellion.”

“And I told you it doesn’t matter because everyone is shit. How many villains have you fought since this rebellion you led?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.”

“So, you’ve fought at least one. What did that rebellion get you then, huh?”

“I recommend you shut your fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you.”

“Please, do try. I need a new skeleton for my collection,” you growl and the two of you jump at each other. Luckily, Gwen and Miles web both of you and hold you back. “That’s enough of that,” Gwen says. “I have an idea,” Miles says, “why don’t we go visit your universe, (Y/n)? Maybe then Hobie can see why you’re so… negative.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere near that place,” Hobie nearly yells. “Good. I don’t want you there anyway.”

“On second thought, I think it might be very eye-opening to see the world you grew up in. Maybe I can team up with your sinister six and put you in your place,” he spits out at you, causing you to glare at him and flip him off again. “A field trip sounds fun, especially after all this just happened. Maybe it will help the two of you lighten up,” Pavitr says, and you both roll your eyes. “Fine. You can all come. But if you step one toe out of line, Hobie–”

“What? You’ll yell at me?”

“No. I’ll torture you to the point that you would beg me for death.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

───────────────────────────────

『 tag list 』

@casmosmoon* @khaleesihavilliard @sparklyphantom @weyrrii*

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spider-punk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

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not-the-droid · 2 years

Text

Keep You Alive

The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Reader

Synopsis: He would burn down the entire galaxy to have you back in his arms.

Warnings: some pretty graphic descriptions of violence and injuries, reference to torture but not described in detail, description of blood, this is angst to the max

Word Count: 1.7k

Request: Hi hi hi. I’ve been needing a heavy angst to happy fluffy ending so badly. Maybe with Din x Y/N ?? Maybe reader gets taken or kidnapped and badly injured and he thinks she’s dead , but of course our fav tin can saves her just in time?? Idk. I wanna cry but also need fluff lolol - anon

The Mandalorian didn’t think he was capable of feeling such pure panic.

When he returned to the Razor’s Crest after a brief pit stop on some outer rim planet, he fully expected to be greeted by you scolding him for being out much longer than he’d promised. Instead, he was met with the metallic smell of blood and the cockpit completely destroyed.

The supplies he held dropped onto the ground in an instant as he called out your name as he searched the ship, praying to the Maker that he was dreaming or hallucinating or anything that would make what he feared had occurred not true.

But you didn’t respond.

Mando returned to the destroyed cockpit after a few more frantic calls of your name. He winced as he noticed a patch of blood, its dark crimson taunting him against the light gray of the Crest’s wall. The front glass was cracked from what he quickly recognized as a blaster shot.

Then he remembered the surveillance footage. In his panic, he had completely forgotten that the Crest had footage being collected at all times, just in case they ended up on some particularly nasty planet where they needed to keep an eye on their surroundings.

He quickly booted up the system on his control panel, his breath catching as a projection of the Crest’s interior from hours before floated in front of him.

His heart tightened in his chest as he watched you walk into the cockpit, peering out the window in search of something.

You. Mando told himself, self-loathing tearing at his soul. She’s checking to see if you’re coming back.

The expression on your face changes, backing away from the window, placing yourself strategically out of view. Mando could hear the loud banging on the Crest’s entrance, watching helplessly as the invader flung it open with ease.

Mando cursed himself for not locking it properly, for being too distracted by wanting to quickly get the supplies and back on the ship.

The intruder stepped into the cockpit, pacing around the room with his blaster at the ready.

“Come out, Mandalorian!” The intruder called, his voice dripping with hatred.

Mando searched the footage for where you were, finally spotting you ducked under the control panel, a small knife gripped between your fingers.

The intruder pointed his blaster toward the window, just above where you were hidden.

The tang of blood filled Mando’s mouth as he bit down on his cheek harshly as the blaster went off, hearing your involuntary gasp at the sudden blast right above you.

Rage flooded Mando’s body as the intruder cocked his head to the side, walking over to where you hid.

“What do we have here?” The intruder asked, his dirty fingers wrapping around your arm to drag you up toward him. “Didn’t know the Mandalorian had himself a little friend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spat, hiding the knife behind your back with your free hand.

Mando ground his teeth as the intruder pressed his blaster to your temple. “Now there’s no need for us to get nasty with each other. I’m here for the Mandalorian.”

“He’s not here.” You replied, looking the intruder directly in the eyes, head held high despite the blaster pressed against it. “You’ll have to come back later if you want to talk to him.”

The intruder scoffed. “Oh no, I don’t think there’ll be much talking. No, I’m going to murder your Mandalorian just like he did to my friend.”

Mando watched as your fingers gripped the knife tightly. The intruder let his grip on your arm loosen a bit, allowing you to strike.

The intruder let out a sharp cry of pain as you sliced through the skin of his cheek, leaving a dripping red gash behind as you bolted toward the exit.

Your fingers brushed against the door for a half second before the intruder regained his composure, grabbing you from behind and sending you slamming into the opposite wall.

A mixture of rage and heartache tugged at Mando’s chest at the whimper of pain that escaped you, your fingers touching the wound on the back of your head. Blood covered your fingers as when you pulled them away from your injury.

“You’re gonna pay for that little trick.” The intruder said, pulling you up harshly. He pressed his blaster against your temple once more, his fingers hovering over the trigger. “Now, where is he?”

Mando felt helpless as he watched the projection, wanting desperately to reach out to you. To bash the intruder's head against the cold, hard metal of the Crest before wrapping you safely in his embrace.

The intruder's expression changed after a moment, a sick smile pulling at his lips as he watched you close your eyes, prepared to die before giving up Mando’s whereabouts.

“How about we play a little game with your Mandalorian? Let's see how good of a hunter he is.” The intruder taunted, running his fingers over the skin of your cheek.

Mando shut the protection off, unable to watch as the intruder gagged you with a dirty piece of cloth he ripped from your shirt before dragging you off of the Razor’s Crest.

His gloved fingers shook as he touched the patch of nearly dried blood against the wall. Mando felt his heart pound against his skull, slamming his fist into the cold metal, leaving a deep dent where your blood had stained. A constant reminder to himself that he was the cause of what had happened to you. That he hadn’t been there to stop it.

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

It took three days for him to track down where you were being kept.

Three days that the Mandalorian didn't sleep. Three days that he had to force himself to eat and drink for the sole purpose that he would need his strength to return you safely to his arms.

It was the uncertainty that destroyed him. Not knowing if you were alive almost drove him over the edge.

No, he had to believe you were alive. Any other thought made him want to scream until his throat bled. He had given up on crying. That wouldn't rescue you.

Besides, he didn't think he had any tears left.

When he finally arrived at where you were being held, he went into a frenzy the second he heard the heart-wrenching sound of your screams beyond the door. Mando doesn't remember the details. All he knows is that when he arrives at the source of the sound, he won't have to worry about taking anyone down on the way out.

You've gone silent by the time he kicks down the door, dropping to his knees in front of you.

Bruises littered your face and neck, your eyes closed tightly as a bit of blood fell from a seemingly fresh cut on your temple.

He whispered your name, gently wiping the gash with his thumb. Your eyes didn't open, his name falling from your lips sadly.

It finally clicked after a few moments why you weren't responding to him, his heart shattering as he undid your restraints.

You thought you were imagining him. He didn't want to wonder about how many times you had thought he had come to relieve you of your pain, only to realize he wasn't there at all.

“I’m here, (Y/N). I will get you out of here but I need you to open your eyes.” He pleaded, needing to know that you heard him. That you knew he was here.

After a few more pleas, you did as you were told, a tear falling down your cheek as you finally realized he was real.

“Din.” You mumbled, attempting to stand and latch onto him.

“No, I'll carry you. Just hold on.” He replied, gently lifting you securely into his arms.

The intruder stepped into the room, pulling out his blaster the moment he spotted Din.

Din turned his back toward the intruder, shielding you as the blaster fire bounced off the beskar covering his skin. He placed you gently on the ground, your back propped against the wall, before turning toward the intruder, his blaster at the ready.

Light filled the room as Din fired, hitting the intruder square in the chest.

Hatred filled Din’s expression as he walked toward the man, who had fallen to the ground with a loud thud. He watched the intruder’s chest heave up and down, the life draining from his eyes.

“Looks like you have to be a lot quicker than that,” Din said, venom dripping from every word.

The corner of the intruder’s lips cocked up slightly as he looked jst beyond the Mandalorian. The intruder managed to fire one final shot.

Din turned around.

Blood seeped from your side, your hand coming up to cover the wound.

A primal scream left the Mandalorian as he ran toward you, lifting you back up into his arms. He had to get you to a medic. He had to keep you alive.

The sprint to the Razor’s Crest was a blur, his hand pressed atop yours on your side as he carried you. There had to be medics on this planet. There had to be.

“You're gonna be ok.” He repeated as he hovered around the planet in search of a village. A city. Anything.

A small collection of buildings caught his eye, just ahead. He glanced behind him to where you lay, seemingly asleep as your chest rose and fell worryingly slow.

He had to keep you alive.

A few locals approached as he landed. He couldn't speak. All he could do was carry you to them, hoping they would understand as he showed them your still bleeding would.

You were carried off into one of the buildings, Din being blocked from entering. He didn't fight. If they could keep you alive, he would wait in a sandstorm.

It was dark when one of the medics emerged.

“We've managed to stop the bleeding. You're very lucky you arrived when you did.” They explained.

Din fell to his knees. It must have been confusing for the medic, seeing a Mandalorian with his helmet in his hands muttering a string of broken thanks. Din didn't care. You were alive.

He finally composes himself enough to go inside, sighing in relief as he saw you sleeping soundly. Din closed the door behind him, making sure it was locked securely before shedding his helmet and armor.

He slipped into the bed beside you, making sure to stay on the opposite side of your injury. He placed his hand on your chest, your heart beating steadily.

Alive. Din promised himself he was going to make sure you stayed that way. No matter what he had to do.

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

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singingcicadas · 2 months

Text

idw Ratchet is someone who follows orders and respects authority. He might follow his conscience in spur-of-the-moment decisions that allows him the leeway/initiative to act on his own (e.g. setting up clinic on Dead End, breaking cover to save Verity and Hunter, going to look for Drift, voting against Rodimus in mtmte) but he's never openly defied the orders of an acting leader. Regardless if he doesn't agree with said order and thinks it's stupid. Or wrong.

Even when Ratchet thinks Rodimus' treatment of Drift is unfair, he never speaks up against Rodimus during the actual issue of the exile verdict. He only offers Drift silent support by helping him up on the way out, because Rodimus is the captain and you don't argue with the captain. Yes he thinks Rodimus is a crap captain and acts condesending towards him all the time but when it comes to rank and orders there's no ambiguity.

Voting against Rodimus in the crisis act is a legitimate expression of disapproval, made anonymously in private. He doesn't care about Rodimus knowing his vote, but in public it stays anonymous. He does tell Rodimus off about what he did to Drift, but again, he makes sure it's a private one-on-one appointment. He also doesn't make Rodimus formally revoke Drift's exile or sanction his search, he resigns his position as CMO and quietly leaves to look for Drift himself as a personal commitment.

Common stereotype of what Ratchet is not:

Medic ethics and commitment to patients comes first, factions be damned. I don't care if he's a Decepticon, he's my patient.

No he's not actually like that? When Megatron's in custody he's all lets dissect him awwwww why can't we dissect him why does mass murderers still get rights that's so stupid can't I just torture him a little?

Like he spent the whole war patching up Decepticon-inflicted wounds and witnessing Decepticon-inflicted deaths. He's not a saint. He has as much good reason to hate Megatron and his faction as any other Autobot.

In fact he was pretty eager to ask Optimus about what he's going to decide as Megatron's punishment after he heard about Optimus frying Megatron on the voltage harness.

Optimus has his heart on clemency. Ratchet's the one hoping for execution or something equally nasty. Even though their opinions doesn't line up, Ratchet's still 100% supportive of Optimus' decision.

He repairs Megatron only because of Bumblebee's orders, and makes his unwillingness known.

Later in mtmte Ratchet does save Megatron's life of his own volition and repairs him again, but that's after he's lived with Megatron on the same ship for six months (again something that he considers to be a colossally bad idea but is forced to live with because of orders) and got to know him as a person. Not because of bleeding heart syndrome.

Also Ratchet's not just a grouch all the time. He can be blunt but also knows when to be respectful as appropriate to the occasion. He reprimands Wheeljack for being disrespectful to Bumblebee because leaders should be treated like leaders.

The guy's been CMO since Nominus Prime, essentially the highest-ranking of his profession on the planet; you can't get to that type of position and hold it through consecutive leaders for millions of years without considerable interpersonal skills and knowledge of social protocol.

Prowl does have Ratchet on his little blacklist but the stuff on there really just refers to Ratchet saving Verity and Hunter back in Infilitration. I read it as more of a testament to Prowl's pettiness than Ratchet actually being a problem.

#Ratchet also doesn't stop Rodimus when he orders Chromedome to inject. even if Chromedome protests #Things ratchet might do if unhappy with someone's leadership:#arrange a private meeting to talk about his concerns like a normal adult #do what he can within what leeway he has without being openly rebellious #act first ask permission later #snark about it #grouch about it #complain about it #then go with it #Things Ratchet will NOT do:#scream at the person in charge in public confrontation #undermine the person in charge by participating in said public confrontation #make a scene #he doesn't do morality lectures either #what is up with that anyway #transformers #maccadam #idw transformers #mtmte #Ratchet #I'm pretty sure other ratchets are like this too? tfp. bayverse. cyberverse #don't know about tfa cant remember most of the stuff in that #wfc trilogy has a different background for his character so. but it's the only Ratchet with a 'I don't care about factions' attitude #idk where all the other stereotypes come from is everyone basing their interpretations on the synth-energon episode in tfp?#yeah he was yelling at Optimus a lot there but it was all about how Optimus should have used MORE violence #and also with the throwing wrentches. why does he throw wrenches?

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harkonnin · 28 days

Text

* The heart is not meant to rule *

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader

Slow burn, knife kink, blood kink, strangers to lovers, softer!Feyd-Rautha, CONSENT, 18+, arranged marriage, assassination, poison, murder, etc

Chapter 1 - Introduction Chapter 2 - Beginnings are such delicate times Chapter 3 - Eclipse Chapter 4 - A Time of Quiet Between the Storms Chapter 5 - Harkonnen Arena Chapter 6 - Water of life

*****

After a few more, albeit boring, days on Giedi Prime the Baron agrees on allowing you and your family to return to Caladan. He also states that Feyd and a bunch of servants would shortly join you once you’re settled again. This was code for ‘make sure the castle is up to standard before I send Feyd over’. Your father obliged happily; he even cracked a smile at the Baron. Very unlike him but happy to return home, as were most of you.

As soon as you return home you are greeted by your loyal subjects and ushered into the bathing areas. There’s a lot of toxic grime to wash off you, Giedi Prime really wasn’t the best place to visit, let alone live. You sat in a hot bath of rose salts and contemplated Feyd’s arrival, the things necessary to make his stay more pleasant. You’re pretty sure that the standards of living were better on Caladan, so besides personal interests, there wasn’t much you could do.

In the next few days you discussed the guest rooms, seeing if everything would be fitting for the Na-Baron. You had to admit you were quite excited at the prospect of seeing Feyd again, experiencing him out of his comfort zone, on a planet that didn’t worship him. Like a fish out of the water, which Caladan had plenty of. You wonder if he ever even saw the oceans before, the green fields you had, the scent of a Caladian rose, the feeling of a fresh fish in your hands after having captured it… there was so much unspoken positive anxiety in your mind that it slowly dawned on you that you started to develop feelings in a certain way.

After about a week, the Harkonnen arrived. A huge, pitch-black ship landed on the green fields and your entire family stood outside to greet them upon arrival. As the ship door made a shushing sound whilst opening, your brother looked at you, a small smile on his lips. You mouthed ‘what’ at him, also smiling. He smiled a bit deeper and shook his head. “Nothing”, he said, whilst putting his hands up defensively. He was mocking you, he obviously read your body language these past days, and it was safe to say that you were looking forward to this moment a bit too much. You had been found talking to servants about the amenities you all needed to provide in extensive detail, you’ve never really cared that much about a guest before, but somehow now it involved your potential soon to be husband, and everything needed to be perfect.

Paul thought it was endearing, he would always be the protective older brother, yet seeing you genuinely interested in a formal setting like that also made him happy inside. He planned to have a talk with Feyd in the future before anything ever happened, to make sure you would be taken care of. And if not, there would be consequences. But for now, keeping the peace would be the simplest.

The ship door had fully levelled, and people started to walk down and out of the ship. It was slightly clouded on Caladan, almost always, so everything was a bit dimmed and dulled out. Everyone was dressed in formal wear, your father had on his military jacket, so did your brother. Your mother was dressed in a light blue flowing dress with a hood, and you were wearing a green to white gradient flowing dress, a very different view than the clothing you wore on Giedi Prime. Feeling safe at home and free, the dress expressed the colours of your house and the way your planet looked for outsiders. If you had to say so yourself, you looked stunning. The wind softly making your dress sway and making the dress even more alluring.

You spotted Feyd from the small crowd now in front of your family, also in formal attire. Harkonnens stood for strong and contrasting black and white colouring, so it was no surprise to see him in a full black outfit. A leather top with long sleeves, and a thick wide pant combined into a statuesque Na-Baron who had a very imposing and cold demeanour. When your eyes met however, he smiled at you, making your heart skip several beats. It still felt extremely strange to you that you were so affected by him, knowing the history and the place he came from. Seeing him murder prisoners, the fact that he attacked you on your first day, the speculation that he might’ve murdered his own mother… everything was a red flag, and yet you didn’t want to give up on him for some reason. Maybe this time seeing the best in people, or giving everyone an equal chance, would end up killing you. But it wouldn’t be like you to not at least try once.

Feyd had been travelling for a few days prior to landing, being utterly bored in the ship. No one to train with, no one to pester. None of his family joined him, as he would be fine in the care of the Atreides, so all he had was a few servants to sit with. He all but locked himself in his quarters preparing for the arrival on Caladan. When they finally did, he jumped up, almost ecstatic about finally getting out of this ship. Or so he thought. He was looking forward to this meeting most of all, taking the days long trip happily a few times over to be able to see you again. He had been opposed to a forced marriage, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about you.

As he got dressed for these unnecessary formalities, he decided on an outfit that would strike fear, something that would set him apart from the people on Caladan. A servant knocked on the door to announce they would be landing soon. Feyd hurried to the door of the ship, walking with determination. As the door opened with a loud noise, he started to smell the scent of your planet. A petrichor reached his nose, fresh and earthy. A hint of salt, and a feeling of a dusting of rain on his face. He closed his eyes and took it all in, the air felt extremely clean here, it was like he had never experienced such an innocent feeling from nature. He chuckled to himself, weirdly enough this reminded him of you. How the both of you enveloped the feeling of your home planets so well.

The light that shone on your planet was soft, and the colours struck him. He wasn’t used to going off planet, and neither were his servants. This was all very new and overwhelming in a way. There were some servants who even exclaimed softly how beautiful this was, looking at the green grass like they had never seen anything like it before. They started to move out of the ship, and he saw you standing on a small platform with your family. You seemed to be in conversation with your brother, both smiling. Struck by your beauty and gentleness of your soft smile, his breath hitched in his throat, not being used to this feeling he started to wonder if the oxygen on this planet was trying to choke him. Realising he was not, he swallowed hard and started to move out of the ship after the servants.

As he started to approach your family, you turned towards him, and your eyes met. He kept your stare and started to feel his palms sweat. Being nervous was not an emotion Feyd often experienced, certainly not with women or people weaker than him. He smiled at you however, trying to calm himself down. When you smiled back, he felt his worries disappear. You had that effect on him, and like a drug he didn’t want to quit that feeling. He vowed to himself to make you smile more often.

After some long moments of formalities, you were all finally sat at the dining table, Feyd had been shown to his quarters earlier, and pretty much sent all the servants back home, save two. He had no interest in being babied, and wanted to experience Caladan like you would. If need be, he could always ask one of your ‘servants’ to do something for him. Little did he know that your family didn’t have the concept of servants, and instead the people helping and looking after your family were all here because of their own free will. People that would go through fire for their duke and his family. Feyd would soon come to understand all this, but for now, dinner was served.

The food on Caladan was vastly different, more fresh and more direct than the food they ate on Giedi Prime. There were huge plates of fish and wild animals, complimented by the freshest greens and fruit you had. The dining table was a lot smaller than Feyd was used to, and he was sat in front of you again, but able to reach you with his legs. You were aware of this however and decided to keep your legs tucked under your chair for now, not wanting to illicit a reaction that could be misinterpreted. Feyd seemed to enjoy the food however, you imagine he had been hungry since the food on a traveling ship is always a bit depressing. It’s more survival food than anything else. The conversation between your father and Feyd was pleasant so far. Leto thanking Feyd for taking the time to experience Caladan for the time being and asking him if he wanted to have training days with his best warriors. Feyd almost rolled his eyes at the idea that there would be anyone who would be able to beat him on this planet, but he reacted honourably instead.

It felt like he was going beyond to impress you, to be as respectable as you had wanted. You realised you might’ve been a bit too harsh on the Harkonnen and on Feyd. You relax in your chair a bit more at the revelation and allow yourself to drop your guarded expressions. Feyd notices the shift in your body language, like the predator he is, and makes eye contact with you. You give him a soft smile and his eyes soften a bit at your honesty. You let your legs stretch out a little bit and accidently brush Feyd’s foot. You don’t dare to look up however, knowing full well what his expression might be.

You clear your throat after a few more seconds and look up at Feyd in a slightly more guarded way. You excuse yourself and express gratitude towards Feyd and his servants for making the trip all the way to Caladan. Tomorrow would be the day that you show him the land, castle and people that make up your culture, your history, lineage, and all the sort that makes House Atreides what they are. You decide to retire early and make the most out of your sleeping schedule. Feyd stands up as you do and bows before you leave, expressing his interest and how he looks forward to tomorrow. It’s slightly off putting how he says it, but you decide not to let it get the better of you.

You had much difficulty trying to get to sleep, tossing and turning often. You never really have dreams like your brother does, you sometimes see very faint visions but can almost never recall what it meant. Last night was exactly like that. You keep dreaming of the wet, damp grass under your hands, but none of it means anything. It just seems like 1% of the actual scene that’s being played in your subconscious. You wish you had more insight, but that would require more Bene Gesserit training, and you really did not want to do that. So, for now all you had was that moment in the grass.

You get out of bed and go to the en suite bathroom, splash some water in your face and prepare for the day. Be it lack of sleep, or you not being on guard on your home planet, you decide to wear something more casual. You assume that formalities are now over, and Feyd would be a temporary guest instead of a representative of house Harkonnen. You hope he also drops the formalities, as this seems to make the tension appear higher than it should be. You have nothing to fear on Caladan, besides the need of wanting to stay. A problem for later honestly.

As you leave to get some quick breakfast you notice a servant of Feyd near your bedroom door. You look at her and she looks down immediately, she seems innocent enough, but so did the servant that poisoned you. You’re cautious at this point, but walk up to her nonetheless. She notices you coming over and addresses you.

“Lady Atreides,” you notice as she speaks that this was the same servant girl that spoke to you about the history of the Harkonnen, who told you about Feyd’s childhood. “It’s nice seeing you again, uuh-“ you linger, not knowing her name. “What’s your name actually? Sorry, I never asked.”

You see her freak out a tad, her eyes wide, you definitely overstepped a boundary of some sort. She hesitates long enough for you to feel pity for her.

“… Tula, my lady.” You sigh happily, “tell me Tula, why are you here?”

She looks up at you and smiles softly, it’s almost strange to see a Harkonnen servant girl smile. You truly wonder if Feyd has ever hurt her, already feeling pissed off if he ever did.

“The na-Baron has asked me to give you this, as a token of his appreciation.”

She holds in her hand a blade, pitch black and engraved. It has a dark green shine on the hilt and a foreign looking shape to it. You feel like this is a kind of wealth your family is not used to, it feels expensive. It’s also incredibly sharp which makes it one of the deadliest items you’ve ever received. You realise that this type of gift coming from him means a lot. It feels like he’s showing you a part of his heart, like he’s being open with you about his intentions. Although it could also be a challenge.

“Tell me,” you say as you take the blade in one hand, “on Giedi Prime, is giving someone a blade a gift or a challenge, because I need to know if he is going to attack me later or not”.

Having heard about your first encounter, Tula chuckles, which makes you smile at her some more.

“No no, my Lady, this is quite certainly a gift, he made sure of that”, she points out a tiny red hawk in the engraved portion.

You look at it up close, it looked like extremely intricate work. You’re amazed he managed to get this made in less than a week. Tula sees you stare at the knife and decides to speak up.

“If the Lady has no more requests, I shall return to my quarters”, she speaks softly.

You look at her, deciding against conveying a message to Feyd via her.

“Maybe I should introduce you to our friends in the castle, I seriously doubt Feyd needs all your help right now. Just relax and take in Caladan while you’re here.”

She looked paler than usual, maybe you were testing her limits more than you should. It was important for you however that the servants also had a good stay. Since you had no intention of abusing your power anytime soon, the difference in an Atreides and a Harkonnen, so to speak. She went dead quiet as she ushered her to follow you as you introduced her to some of the castle staff. There weren’t too many people working there, but the few that did, were to be trusted.

As you left her in the capable hands of the people that practically raised you, you made your way to your quarters again. You put the gift, the blade, on your nightstand and admired it for a few more minutes. It was impressive that for someone so atrocious, brutal and primal, he had the instinct to do something that might be considered weak and nice. It was like he was pushing against the boundaries in which he was raised, trying to see what it would be like should he have chosen his own path.

Speculation, of course. For you couldn’t trust him for now. And he had no intention of marrying you, so you wondered what his plan was with you.

As you make your way towards Feyd’s quarters one of your staff members informs you he already left his bedroom earlier this morning. She mentions he said something about needing training and requested for a strong fighter to be his training partner. You already feel sorry for the person who got tasked with that.

You go down a flight of stairs and walk a tad faster as soon as you hear the grunts and breaths of two people fighting. You turn the corner and see Feyd wrestling with Duncan. You decide to lean against the wall and study them both. They looked like they had been at it for quite a while already, both too stubborn to give in or stop, or both equally intimidated and wanting to prove themselves. Their wrestling match ends up in Duncan being flung over Feyd’s back and pinned down with his long legs, his arm in a tough position, where it could be snapped within any second now.

You decide to break up the tension.

“I think we have a winner,” you shout.

Both men perk up at you, slightly shocked at hearing you. Feyd let’s go of Duncan’s arm and unwraps from his torso. They’re both sweating and Duncan’s hair is undone. He smiles warmly at you, and you go up towards them. He tackles you into a hug and picks you up, you exclaim from all the sweat you’re feeling. Feeling instantly dirty and a tad embarrassed that Feyd is watching you through all this, you tell him to put you down while laughing.

Feyd’s expression was hard to read at this point, he was glistening with sweat, the sun making him look paler than before. You look at him awkwardly, almost saying sorry for this entire display, but Duncan breaks the silence for you.

“I thought you were going to snap me in half, Harkonnen.”

He weirdly compliments Feyd’s fighting ability as he lets go of you. Feyd’s eyes still on you.

“I still might,” he says, as he turns his glance towards the older man. He takes it in for a few seconds, “I believe you might,” he turns to you “Is it true what they say about him, my Lady?”

You cock your head to the side and take a good look at Feyd’s expression. The last thing you want to do is offend your guest.

“That he’s a formidable fighter?” you reach out to your scar, and he watches your hand, his expression once more guarded, unreadable. You smile softly at him, trying to lighten the situation. “I’ve seen it first-hand, just be glad this isn’t a knife fight.”

Somehow that didn’t lighten the tension, as Duncan just realised what that scar meant. He frowns and looks over to Feyd.

“Did you do this?”, he said as he got in Feyd’s face.

You try to de-escalate the situation by trying to talk to Duncan, but the damage was done. Feyd Interrupted your start of a sentence and got closer to him.

“I caught her roaming the halls of our palace with her weapons in her hands, she looked like a foreign assassin to me. I only did what was natural.”

His tongue like a viper, enjoying this moment of peacocking in front of you. You honestly didn’t want this to turn south, as both men had a point, but they were overreacting right now.

You decide to step in between them, facing Duncan. A clear signal that as the Lady Atreides you had to defend your guest in this moment.

“You can’t let him do this to you,” Duncan says.

You look over your shoulder at Feyd, his eyes burning into yours, you trusted him to not do anything rash. You took a glimpse of his cheek, where the scar you left him was still a pink-ish tone, indicating that you cut deeper than he did. As you turned to the front again you noticed Feyd had gotten closer to you, standing firmly behind you.

“As you can see, I didn’t just let him.”, you hope this is enough for now to convince Duncan that you were fine, and that your first meeting was just, weird at best.

You had no idea what Feyd was doing at this point, but Duncan did. Feyd kept staring at you, it unsettled him. He feared for your life at this point, but knowing his position he also knew he had little to no say about these agreed upon formalities.

“If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.” He spoke to you. “As for you, if you ever hurt her, I will know where to find you.”

And with the end of that threat, he leaves. You keep your eyes on him as he leaves, sighing softly. It almost felt sad to you, he seemed hurt for some reason. You hope he comes around soon, since losing Duncan would be one of the worst things that could happen to you.

Feyd waits until you turn around, looking up at him. He was a looming presence, everywhere and always. You also just noticed that the clothes he wore were somewhat casual. A long sleeve black top with a harness on top of it, long sleek pants and tough boots. His top was sticking to his torso like it was hanging on for dear life. You couldn’t keep yourself from looking down a bit, mesmerised by his muscular but slim body, his soft white skin contrasting the harsh black colours. The sun probably didn’t help to cool him down either.

You feel a bit more relaxed now that Duncan is gone, the awkward peacocking having stopped now. You look up at Feyd and your eyes soften.

“I’m quite impressed by your physical prowess, Feyd,” praising him like that would surely calm him down a bit but having worded it like that made him chuckle almost. Y

ou just realised the innuendo you spoke and turn a bit red in the face. He creeps closer, only a few inches from your face. He smells like dew on grass, having rolled around in it all this morning.

“What did my Lady think of her gift?” he looks down at you, his breathe hitting your face softly, taking you in for the first time today.

Noticing you were dressed more casual today, less uncomfortable. Formalities were also something that restricted Feyd, he understood having the need to feel at ease, in whatever skin you wanted to portray yourself that day. He appreciated the fact that you dropped formalities with him, making this transition to Caladan all the easier for him.

You start to walk, your arm making a sign for him to follow as you do. He joins you on your right side.

“It looks absolutely gorgeous Feyd. I’m extremely flattered at the craftsmanship that went into it, thank you.”

His hands are resting behind his back, so you can’t quite shake his hand. So instead you just smile up at him. He loves the way his name rolls off your tongue, how softly you say his name. No hate dripping off if it whatsoever. He was new to you, and you felt like someone who wouldn’t judge a person based on hear-say or looks.

“It was made by our finest craftsmen, the blade itself made from a meteorite that shared your birth year”.

What the hell.

“How-? How did you find a meteorite like that? On Giedi Prime?”

He actually chuckled; you still had a lot to learn about the Harkonnen. The amount of wealth they had was something you couldn’t fathom. An Atreides getting a meteorite stone would take weeks, months if it was a specific one, and it would also be an investment rather than a simple purchase. You weren’t poor, but Feyd’s richer than thou chuckle made you feel it.

“House Harkonnen could give you everything your heart desired. Anything.”

He looked at you intensely, meaning every word he just said. You’re a bit taken aback. Feyd keeps trying to woo you but has also expressed his need to stay a single man. He can’t have it both ways. You will not be someone’s concubine; your parents might love each other but they should have been married a long time ago. You will not share the same faith.

As you open your mouth to discuss such matters, Gurney Halleck walks just around the corner with a group of soldiers, all in military dress up. It has been weeks since you’ve seen him. He always gave you the feeling that he was this grumpy but attentive uncle you had, even though he wasn’t family. In your excitement you didn’t realise you had walked over to the group and hugged Gurney. He was all smiles and hugged you back, the men also greeting you. As you had some small talk, he brushed some hair out of your face and squeezed your arm as he said goodbye.

Feyd realised that the people of Caladan loved you, you were well respected as the Duke’s daughter but most of all, loved. Not feared like him. He realised you had enough prospects that could marry you if they were given the chance and opportunity. And it seemed you had a good relationship with all of them, not to say this made him jealous. The way you were engaging with them, touching them, and how they were touching you. It made him seethe with anger. You were supposed to be his, his betrothed. He felt possessive over you, protective but also controlling. He never really cared that much for anyone, or at least he thought that this was “caring”.

Gurney moved past you to go and shake Feyd’s hand, introducing himself as weapons master to house Atreides. The Harkonnen reluctant to shake his hand, making it awkward for everyone in the room.

“… Come on now son, I don’t have all day”, he spoke.

Feyd sees you staring at him and feels the need to at least show some niceties to your ‘servants’. He gives Gurney his hand and squeezes it strongly. The older man just laughs, and you softly sigh to yourself, apparently quite tense at the situation at hand. They break the handshake, but Feyd is giving him a death stare. It wasn’t uncommon for people your age to have dabbled in, let’s say, intimate intercourse with servants or staff members, certainly before getting sent off to get married for political reasons. The fact that you were unabashedly talking to all these men sent Feyd into a mental spiral. He started to assume things that weren’t there. Call it insecurity or possessiveness, both came from a lack of control in his life.

Gurney bids you both farewell and makes his way towards the barracks with his men. Feyd notices some of these men were eyeing you up, their pupils dilated or he noticed a difference in their breathing. As they moved past him, he shot his eyes back at you, but stayed quiet. You feel something shift uncomfortably in your stomach, had you offended him? Was this all too casual for him, having to meet people he would deem as lowly servants?

There was an awkward silence between you two, as you walked back to enter the castle. You decide to speak up, the tension killing you inside.

“My Lord Na-Baron, did I offend you in any way just now?” you choose your words carefully, not wanting to upset him any further.

You saw his jaw tightening as you spoke, something was definitely wrong.

“If my Lady wants to explain herself for her behaviour, I will gladly listen.”

He spat out, voice more gravely than what you were used to. You are taken aback and blink a few times as his words go through your mind. You stop dead in your tracks. He doesn’t notice until he’s a few steps ahead.

“My… behaviour?” you softly speak. “I don’t know if it’s normal for someone of your stature to be in close contact with your soldiers like that. On Giedi Prime you would be labelled… promiscuous.”

There was nothing funny about the way he said it, he was not smiling, yet you felt the need to huff a laugh at him. He had the balls to call you a slut in your own house. Your own planet. After seeing you be nothing more than friendly with people who have known you since childhood. The Harkonnen truly were a different species of human, their entire belief system was built on an insecurity and distrust of others. It was clear to you now, Feyd would never allow you to stay as free as you were now. He’d rather lock you up in a cage, like a bird, in his possession.

“It’s funny how you think I should not be allowed to sleep around if I wanted to, when you have your own set of concubines to choose from back at home.” You snap back at him, sounding more vicious than you planned to. Tit for that.

He looked anything but pleased at that. Remembering he had murdered his concubines for the sheer sake of their jealousy towards you, he now had nothing back home in that matter.

“You are promised to ME, and I will use everything in my power to keep it like that,” he says as he gets closer to you, “I will not let you forget it either,” he grabs a fistful of your hair in his hand and pushes you against the wall in the castle hall.

You grunt and your hands automatically go towards his strong arm. He’s looming over you at this point, you’re reacting to the pain on your head from his unnecessary violence. Tears start to form in your eyes, his grasp softening a little bit. Your breathing is heavy on his lips, he’s close, much too close.

“Let go of me,” you struggle to get the words out without sounding pathetic.

At this point a tear falls down your cheek, over your scar. He trails it with his eyes then looks back into yours.

“I will never share you with anyone, you’re much too pretty for that.”

He’s saying all these nice words, whilst pinning you against the wall. You’re about 3 seconds away from kicking him in his nether region but realise he still had a hand free, which would most likely result in you falling to the ground and hurting yourself, so you decide against it.

“What does it matter Feyd?” you manage to spit out at him.

He loves seeing the fire behind your eyes, your defiance, even if you’re put into a weaker position. He searches for someone who can hold his interest, who has the same intensity as he does.

Instead of answering he waits for you to elaborate, cocking his head to the side.

“You said you have no-no intention of marrying me, so why does it fucking matter to you?!” another tear drops from your eye, a real one this time.

Your insecurity shining through, your need to be worth it for someone, even if it was a psychotic Harkonnen. You stop trying to push him away, and let your hands go soft around his arm. You stare up at him with your teared up eyes, hoping he understood that you weren’t here to fight him.

He believes your honesty, he also realises you’re probably a virgin, since it’s truly uncommon that a woman your age would have done anything before marriage. It also doesn’t seem like House Atreides is built on the satisfaction of personal needs, but the needs of the many. He has no friendships on Giedi Prime, only servants. He loves seeing you all needy for him, but also realises he hurt you in the progress to get to hear those words from you. The last thing he wants is an unhealthy relationship between you both.

He lets go of your head, putting his hand on the wall behind you. You’re still stuck between the wall and his tall figure, holding his arm for the little stability you get from it. He looks down at you, eyes filled with lust and his remaining anger. You're staring at each other and you feel your heart pound in your chest...

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune part two #dune movie #dune 2 #dune #dune part 2 #dune fanfiction

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chuthulhu-reads · 10 months

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[ID: A panel from Trigun Maximum. It's a close-up of Vash's face, looking exhausted and sweating heavily. Enough of his shoulder scars are visible to show that he's shirtless. His odd posture is because, as revealed in a previous page, he's being forced into a one-armed handstand by Legato. Vash is saying, "Believe me, Knives, I have seen the dead plants. All of them had the black hair. They weren't the bodies of plants who had lived their natural lifespan. They were the bodies of plants who had been abused and pushed past their limits." End ID.]

Knives saw one plant die and went on a mass-murder tantrum; the feeling is understandable, if not the actions. To him, I wonder if this sounds like Vash not giving a shit about their sisters, because he's found multiple dead plants before, knows what the black hair means, and hasn't done any murders about it.

[ID: Two panels from Trigun Maximum. In the first, Vash is looking down, his expression is entirely shadowed aside from his gritted teeth as he says, "...There is no other way for humans to live on this barren desert planet. They are forced... to rely on plants... on us." The second panel shows Knives, though mostly obscured by Vash's dialogue, so we can't see his reaction to Vash's words. End ID.]

However, we can tell from Vash's expressions and from knowing who Vash is as a person that it hurt, finding dead plants. He's grieved for every single one; given that we've seen him take the time to respectfully bury people who were trying to kill him, he's definitely given funeral rites to the dead plants. The difference between him and Knives is that he has the emotional maturity to experience anger/hurt and also coherent thought at the same time, and he's aware that humans don't kill plants out of malice. Many of them love and revere plants; even the coldest know that it's outright stupid to kill plants, who are essential to human life on Gunsmoke. The necessity of a Last Run is questionable, but it's undeniable that they feel they have no other choice, and Vash is aware of that. He's aware that, given better circumstances, humans wouldn't be killing plants. (I think Vash would love The Good Place, seeing as it's all about unpacking the many forces that drive people to do bad things and explores the potential people have for goodness, if only given the opportunity.)

[ID: Two panels from Trigun Maximum. The first shows Knives frowning slightly as Vash says, "You're quick to forget, Knives... that you caused all of this." The second panel shows Vash, still in his forced handstand but managing to hold his head up enough to glare at Knives with absolute fury as he says, "The reason for all of this... the one thing that started this... was the Big Fall!" End ID.]

And, knowing that humans have been forced into a position with very limited choices, Vash is feeling just as much rage as Knives... but it's all pointed at the person whose choices put them all here in the first place.

Just because Vash isn't throwing murder tantrums doesn't mean he isn't angry, and god I love it when kind characters are allowed to be furious. The emotions are not contradictory. Rage isn't the opposite of compassion; often, it's a direct result. Vash simply has the emotional maturity to hold onto the anger, simmer it into wrath, and direct it where it's deserved.

#Trigun #do not patronize this man by robbing him of his wrath #also I'm always mixed on the translation of 'Big Fall'#Like on the one hand it almost sounds... kinda silly?#Like 'The Great Fall' would be more serious #but I also wonder if that wouldn't undercut the way people on Gunsmoke think of it #like it's somehow grandiose or majestic #folks on Gunsmoke seem a little more like #'sure was a big fuckin' fall back then huh'#'sure was'#'welp them tomases ain't gonna muck themselves out'#I'm continually back and forth on it

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reiderwriter · 9 months

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hi i love your writing

could you do something with reid loving that reader is pregnant. fluff or smut or both

A/N Hello! Thanks for the request! Dad!Spencer is the cutest thing on the planet so this is some unapologetic fluff. And now I have baby fever.

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, idiots in love. Loosely based on Haley and Hotch's conversation in 1x1. Very fluffy and probably very cheesy and sentimental too... Sorry, you give me girl dad Spencer and suddenly there isn't an impure thought in my head, I just want to lovingly stare at him like I'm the dead wife in an action movie montage.

My requests are open, check out my masterlist for more 🌸

“Okay, what about Amelia?”

“No, Amelia Dyer, Victorian serial killer. She killed multiple infants over a thirty-year period.”

“Okay, okay, how about, Myra?”

“Myra Hindley, she and her partner Ian Brady abducted and killed five children and teens in the early sixties.”

“God, not that then. There can’t be a psychopathic murderer called Belle, right?”

“You’re making this too easy for me, y’know. Belle Gunness, Hell’s Belle, she’s one of the most prolific female serial killers of all time, even 100 years after her supposed death. It’s fascinating, you know, people think that she actually faked her death - when the doctor who performed the postmortem testified, he noted that the cadaver was about five inches shorter and about fifty pounds lighter than Gunness supposedly was….” You raise a single eyebrow at your wonderful husband, and he immediately shuts up.

“I’m rambling aren’t I?” He smiled down at you as you sat curled up as much as you could in your favorite spot on the couch, the cosiest part of your shared apartment. You smiled back up at him as he leaned down for a kiss and you gladly craned your neck up in response, meeting his lips for a sweet moment.

“Hotch was right you know,” you joked when the two of you parted. “All of the best baby names have been taken by serial killers.”

“Yeah, you’d think with the ratio of female to male serial killers, a girl would be easier to name.” He leans down to kiss you again before falling into a crouch next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and placing his hand on your stomach.

“How big did you say our little girl is now?”

“Y/N, you asked me that half an hour ago. I know pregnancy messes with your brain a bit, but if you’re that bad we’re going to have to get you back to Dr Patel and see if you’re doing okay.” He was joking of course, but you showed him your little pout anyway, knowing that he loved seeing the silly expression on your face.

“Humor me, Doctor.” He strokes your stomach and moves away, but not too far away, taking up right next to you on the couch, and pulling your legs over his lap.

“At five months, she’s roughly 10 inches long with a weight of about 0.5-1 pound. But that ‘How Big is My Baby’ book would say that she’s roughly one banana in length.” You giggled up at him and he grabbed your hand and just held it, content to have you in his arms in any way, big or small.

“I can’t believe it’s been five months already,” you giggle as he presses another kiss to your hand.

“I get it. It doesn’t feel quite real yet to me, either. I thought for so long that fatherhood just wasn’t in my future, but you’re the gift that keeps on giving I guess. I don't know what I did to deserve you.” Even if the words weren’t so sweet, with all of the hormones, you would’ve started crying at anything. Or at least that’s what you’re going to tell him when he sees the small tears threatening to drop into enormous loving sobs.

“Spencer Reid, I am not a gift. I am simply the woman with the correct combination of sense and foolish luck that got to marry you.” He’d done this before, and you were used to his small habit of self-deprecating talk, but after a year of marriage and three years of dating before that, you’d managed to work him down to the occasional comment.

“Don’t try to argue about this, I’m definitely the one benefitting the most from the situation right now,” he joked with you, and you could see the genuine adoration shining from behind his eyes. It was a little spark that not many got to see, a glimpse of true happiness in someone usually so reserved.

“Spencer, you’ve given me foot rubs everyday this week, you’ve read more pregnancy and parenting books than every OBGYN and midwife in the area combined, and you’ve somehow attended more of my clinical check-ups than me, and I’m the one whose pregnant.”

“And you’re growing our child inside of you, which is itself more impressive than anything I could ever do with a book and some modern acts of chivalry.”

“Yeah, tell your boss that. I think the only thing keeping Emily from pulling her hair out over your constant absences is that she thinks she’s competing for the title of godmother. She thinks Penelope and JJ are trying to corrupt me with parenting advice and all those baby clothes Pen keeps bringing over.”

“She’s going to be crushed when she remembers we’re not religious, right?”

“Devastated,” the two of you shared a laugh on the couch, and it quickly devolved into a giggle fit after Spencer leaned over and tickled your side. You jolted away from his touch, but he was on you again, attacking your sides with small caresses, and you were gasping for breath between laughs.

“Spence stop- ahh!” Your squeals stopped as you cried out in shock. It was small but you felt something tap against your stomach. Spencer stopped immediately upon seeing your expression change, and a serious look settled on him as he assessed you for any damage.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you in pain anywhere, is the baby okay?” He shot out the questions rapidly, one after the other, barely leaving space to catch his own breath from the laughter of earlier.

It happened again and you put a hand to your stomach, finally realising what’s going on.

“I think I just felt her kick. Spencer, I think I just felt the baby kick.” You couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across your face, as much as you couldn’t help the tear that dropped from your eye as your hand rested against your belly again, scared to move for fear that the baby wouldn’t communicate with you again.

“What? Now? Can I- Can I try and feel it, too?” His hands hesitated at first but when you enthusiastically nodded and used your other hand to put him close to yours, you could feel his eagerness to feel the small kicks of your daughter as well.

Almost as if she was waiting for him, as soon as his hand was in the right position, your little girl kicked again, almost as if screaming “I’m here mommy and daddy,” for the two of you to hear.

“I think she’s trying to tell us not to have fun without her,” Reid whispered in your ear, kissing your tear streaked cheek, and using his free hand to rub them away from the other side of your face.

“I am so thankful everyday for this gift you have given me. And for the record, the gift isn’t the baby. The gift is the overwhelming happiness you bring to my life, and the beauty you make me see in this world. The fact that you’re going to be the mother of my child gives me the confidence to get up and go to work every morning because I know that there is joy and there is kindness and there are beautiful people in this world, and you are one, and she will be, too.”

His attempts to dry your tears are now completely vanquished as you let your emotions run wild, but you almost laugh when you realise that his eyes are just as glassy as yours, and you both sit there, overwhelmed by the pure, unadulterated joy that a small kick from a child who has yet to be given a name has bought you.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #I love girl dad Spencer you're going to have to claw girl dad Spencer from my cold dead hands #requested

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darthmanius · 1 year

Text

So it’s clear to everyone that Kanye is off his meds again… and completely off his head.

But as someone who has been diagnosed with several mental illnesses and will be on medication for the rest of my life… let me make this clear.

Mental illness does not cause someone to be an antisemite. That is all them.

I don’t care if Kanye has literally been diagnosed with every mental condition on the planet. He has control of what he’s saying. He owns what he’s said. Yes he’s attention seeking. But he’s had these beliefs for years and he’s expressed it on countless times.

He can no longer be excused for his behaviour by the fact that he’s mentally ill. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Mental illness does not stop a person from having control over their actions and decisions and knowing right from wrong.

He needs to be ex-communicated from society. There are lines that when crossed, you can never come back from. Kanye has crossed that line. He has opened wounds in a community that has suffered so much already, he’s tried to excuse the most despicable person in human history, he’s disregarded the cold blooded murder of MILLIONS. He has spat on the graves of all the victims of the Holocaust and he’s kick their surviving relatives in the guts. And he’s done it all for his own selfish interests.

No more.

Do not listen to his music, do not purchase any of his clothing, do not interact with any of his remaining socials. To do any of those now is to side with this disgusting man and what he’s said and done.

Fuck you, Kanye. You’re the worst of humanity.

#kanye west #fuck kanye

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yanderehsr · 9 months

Note

I really love your Paimon!Reader. You know the most famous theory is that she might be the unknown God. What if the reader was actually an Aeon of uh Guidance? because she you know 👀 guides the trailblazer and so on. How would either the Astral Express react or maybe Nanook(you don't have to write for them/him?)

Have a good day 👋

I already have alot of request for Paimon!reader with the express so lets do Nanook, ok

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Murder

Nanook still remembers the first aeon he ever met, it was you. The aeon of guidance, you were someone who wanted to help him, guide him through the universe and show him everything, you put out your hand but like the fool he was he rejected it.

Eons has gone by since then, and there has almost never been a day he hasn't regreted that choice, why couldn't you have come back to him, he was young and stupid back then, he should've accepted your hand, then maybe you would be with him now.

Oh, how Nanook grew jealous of that damn Akivili, you chose to spend your days with them instead, Nanook couldn't take it anymore so he started to chase, destroying every planet you had ever been on, no one was spared, not until he had his faerie back.

And in his jealous rage he never noticed that you got destroyed as well, the only one he never wanted to kill was dead. He doesn't know how long he suffered after your death, he vaguely remembers that Akivili died.

And then he felt something, somewhere your energy signature came back, it was weaker than before but he knew it was you. He can finally get his second chance, and he will destroy anyone who gets in his way and destroy any escape route from him, you will be his this time.

"And to think I thought you were lost, this time you will not escape me"

#yandere #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere male #yandere nanook #yandere nanook x reader #platonic yandere

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milksnake-tea · 10 months

Note

Can I ask for Nanook and Yaoshi (separate) x gn!reader whose a nameless hcs? ( akivili hasn't died yet)

loving nameless.

characters: nanook, yaoshi

contains: ooc!characters, slight yandere themes ??

a/n: these two were pretty similar so i bunched them up together, hope u don't mind! personally i can't see nanook abandoning their path to join the express so im sorry that will not be included 😭😭 i know u said nanook is ooc but my perfectionist self is too stickly for that HAUSHSU the yaoshi bias is real here tho

The second you mention your relationship, you're immediately faced with backlash. Both Welt and Akivili are absolutely appalled at the very notion of you being lovers with Nanook of all people. The Express members were practically begging you to reconsider, after all, Nanook was their mortal enemy. Nanook was dangerous, evil, and well... Nanook.

But Nanook was devoted to you, and wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon. You can still remember the dangerous flash in their molten eyes when Welt voiced his opposition, antimatter forming around them as they burned figurative holes into his body.

For a terrifying moment, you were afraid that they would simply kill the man, but it seemed that the presence of another Aeon made Nanook remember themself. In the end, they merely reminded the Trailblaze they were more than capable of destroying both Akivili and the Express, end of discussion.

The Express took a while to get used to the Destruction's visits. Pom-Pom hid behind Welt's legs whenever the Aeon appeared, but as time went on, the two of them grew to tolerate the other.

It's... ironic, to say the least, when Nanook welcomes you back after a trailblazing trip, especially after sealing one of their many Stellarons. It's something that has led to several playfights, where you whine to Nanook about what the Stellaron did to that world, while Nanook merely pats your head and pretends to care.

To be honest, you're the only reason why Nanook doesn't just plant another Stellaron after the one you just finished sealing.

Against you, the Aeon of Destruction looks akin to a kicked puppy whenever you drag them away from planets recovering from their Stellarons. There are certain planets whose civilizations you've befriended and are off-limits to Nanook's purge. It takes a lot out of the Aeon to go against the will of their Path, but they manage (you later catch them absolutely decimating another planet in order to satisfy their urges).

That said, when you do go on trailblazing missions, you have to be careful not to get hurt. Nanook obeys the "no murder" rule when on the Express, but any other worlds are fair game. Whenever you get so much so as a paper cut, you have to glare pointedly at the sky, knowing that Nanook was watching you.

All in all, being a Nameless as well as the lover of Nanook is quite the impressive feat. Many of the Express will never truly be accustomed to the Destruction, and the Stellarons often become an awkward topic.

But you make it work, somehow. Even if one day, you'll have to face down your lover for the sake of the galaxy.

Yaoshi met you on the Xianzhou ships, when you, alongside your fellow Nameless, faced off against a couple of their Disciples. You were quite the thorn in the Disciples' side, foiling their plans left and right, and so Yaoshi became intrigued, wondering just who was giving them so much trouble.

For a while, they merely observed you from the shadows, keeping themself hidden from both the Xianzhou and the Disciples. They didn't see what the big deal was - you were powerful, sure, but so were the rest of your companions. If anything, Yaoshi wagered that the one holding the Stellaron within them, or that older gentleman were bigger threats than you were.

They really should've left it at that. They should've turned away, perhaps given their Disciples a little boost, but nevertheless, Yaoshi should've left.

But they didn't.

Something about you kept them there, on enemy territory. Something about you lured them in, enraptured them. They found that their eyes were never able to fully leave your form, watching you in awe as you fought against their people.

Yaoshi speaks in your dreams, always sweetly smiling as they converse with you. They're wary of revealing their true identity, knowing how the Xianzhou paints them as some kind of villain (the audacity of that Hunt, honestly).

For the most part, you know them as a stranger - a beautiful stranger, but a stranger nevertheless. They visit frequently, always asking the same things: How was your day today? Did anything of interest happen? Oh, the Abundance's creations caused you some issues as of late? How troublesome.

As time passes, you become accustomed, comfortable with their presence, and you begin looking forward to your meetings. With Yaoshi, you can vent your troubles without fear of judgement, exchange jokes you would've otherwise been embarrassed to say, anything your heart desires. Yaoshi makes it easy to let your guard down, especially with their kind and empathetic nature.

When they inevitably reveal themself as Yaoshi, the Aeon of Abundance, you truthfully weren't surprised. You've figured that they were some type of deity - the arms being a dead giveaway that they weren't human. Their frequent complaints about a certain "pursuer" only strengthened your suspicions.

But what shook you was their admittance to their attachment to you. Yaoshi hadn't planned on staying around for this long, but you, whether intentionally or not, had carved a spot for yourself right in the Aeon's heart.

You didn't know what to make of it. You knew, deep inside, that you felt the same way. You didn't want to push them away, but knowing that they were the reason behind the Xianzhou's suffering made you hesitate. Your friends on the Xianzhou would surely never forgive you if you became lovers with the Abundance.

But Yaoshi understood. They saw your conflict, your hesitance, and they smiled - that infuriatingly sweet, understanding smile. They took your hand in theirs, and kissed your forehead.

It's alright if you needed time to process everything. Yaoshi was nothing if not patient. Whenever you were ready, Yaoshi would be waiting for you with open arms.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail nanook #honkai star rail yaoshi #honkai star rail yaoshi x reader #honkai star rail nanook x reader #yaoshi x reader #nanook x reader #hsr yaoshi #hsr nanook #hsr yaoshi x reader #hsr nanook x reader #x reader #y/n #reader insert #archives 🏵️

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mangosrar · 4 months

Text

i haven’t heard from you since.

chris sturniolo x fem reader.

idk if i specified but they’re in a relationship and have been for like 3 years!!

also hey y’all i disappeared for a while but i’m back 😛and i’m currently trying to get through the requests so be ready 😈love y’all. bee ❤️‍🩹

how had it become like this? it seemed so unbelievable that there was a point in yoir life where you thought you were going to marry him, have children, and grow old together. if someone would have told you three years ago that you would both end up like this you would have laughed in their face. he used to be so sweet, so passionate about you, but now that couldnt be further from the truth.

you werent really sure when the change happened, or why it happened maybe a little after your birthday, maybe before. of course you knew people grow apart but this wasnt growth. this was borderline misery. the constant fighting, the days of ignoring one another, the nights where chris would come home at 2am and not say a word to you after you had been waiting up for him, it was nothing short of torture.

but still every single time, both of you just let it blow over, waiting until the next bomb went off, but the long lasting was lasting a little too long.

"oh please, like you were actually worries" he scoffed, taking his hat off and throwing it on the kitchen table.

"you stormed out on me, you didnt even tell me where you were, youve been gone for 5 hours and you stroll in at almost 3am expecting me to be cool about it? what fucking planet are you living on" you said staring at him.

he didnt even reply he just shook his head, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms, keeping his eyes trained to the floor. a moment of silence passed as you waited for him to say something, anything, and finally he took a deep breath in and pulled his eyes up to meet yours.

"maybe i just dont wanna fucking be around you" his voice was quiet and soft, a stark contrast to the sharpness of his words. his expression was stoic and completely unreadable.

he watched the colour drain from your face, as he did every time he would bark an insult at you. a small part of him felt nothing but pure joy to know that he had the power to completely crush you, like when murderers say they feel no remorse for the people theyve killed, but another small part of him was bleeding, a self-inflicted stinging, like a pain he had never felt before.

"you know what chris, day by day i realize everything i miss about you was never there in the first place, the person i fell in love with was a fucking mirage." your words were dripping with venom. his face faltered for a second, momentarily letting the mask slip, and the pain your words were causing him beginning to slip out.

"you dont mean that" he looked like he was about to burst into tears, and it made your mouth run dry.

you tried so hard to keep it together, but the tears that had gathered in your waterline threatened to spill with every single Shakey breath you took. there was a pregnant pause and the effect of your words hung in the air. chris stared at you intensely and you let your eyes rest anywhere but on him, you couldnt look at him, at the chance of seeing him with watery eyes and a wobbly lip might make you fall at his feet once more.

you took a deep breath before eventually meeting his gaze and beginning to talk.

"i dont know why things changed chris.... but one day i woke up and we no longer spoke the same language, and i havent heard from you since" chris watched every time as he crushed you, but now as he took your place, standing there with his hands by his sides, mouth hanging open, taking rapid breaths, in and out, while trying not to cry, he felt as though you had murdered him.

"that doesnt mean i dont love you y/n, we can work through this, weve done it before, ill be better i promise i will" he spoke with a wobbly voice.

the tears were now full force streaming down your face. he stood there across the kitchen with wide eyes, trying to think of how to come back from this, but there was something about the way you opened your mouth to speak again, that told him there wasnt.

"i cant relax around you chris, if i relaxed my body now, id fall apart. if i relaxed for a fucking second, id never find my way back. why cant you see that?" you paused for a moment and shook your head at him in disbelief. "why cant you see that you are tearing me limb for limb when i have done nothing but love you? why cant you understand that i have poured all of my heart and soul onto you to try and wash away whatever it is thats made you like this and you are throwing it back in my face? i mean when will this fucking end?" you were yelling and you hadnt even realized you had made your way over to him and were now standing less than a foot away.

"y/n please, dont do this. ill get my shit together and ill be better because i love you" he looked at you with pleading eyes as he spoke, reaching out to grab your hand, but when you pulled away before he even got the chance to even feel your skin on his, it was like he had died right there in that second.

"do you?" you whispered, swallowing thickly, desperately trying to stop the floodgates from opening more.

chriss face was wet with tears as he stared down at you sniffling. he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. he was completely gob smacked. he never thought it would get to this point. but as your eyes bored into his, wordlessly begging him to say something that would fix this, he felt as though the earth was crumbling beneath his feet.

his silence gave you all the answers that you needed, so with that you turned around and walked away, and the sound of his broken voice calling your name, spoke volumes.

he knew it was over, he knew that you were about to go upstairs and pack your bags and walk out the door, but he didnt do a thing to try and stop you, he knew he wouldnt be able to fix this even if he tried, so he watched you walk away, and the second you were out of sight, he fell to his knees, clutching his chest like he was dying and letting out sob after sob, like it would mend all damage he had done.

in the next room, you were frantically trying to keep your self control. the urge to walk back in there and wipe his tear-stained cheeks and kiss his broken heart better was paralyzing. the sound of him wailing and weeping was soul crushing, but this had to be done, one of you had to be strong enough to walk away.

you knew he would leave such an imprint on you, he had left such severe claw marks that anyone you even entertained after chris, would have to know him in order to understand you, and that might have been the worst fucking part.

—————————————-—————————————

taglist: @christinarowie332 @biimpanicking @chrisenthusiast @soursturniolo @kitaysworld @kvtie444 @mattslolita @flowerxbunnie @lovingsturniolo @its-jennarose @ermdontmindthisaccount @secret-sturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @justaslvttygirl @urfavstromboli @recklesssturniolo @delimeats-000 @nickdevora @gwenlore @sturnioloenthusiast

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plus-size-reader · 6 months

Text

Sweetheart

Horrorfest 2023

Charlie Walker x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2658 words

Warnings: none really. Just a little horror talk.

At the request of @armyangxls Hope you enjoy it love!

Summary: Inviting Charlie over when the murders start so you don't have to be alone.

—————————————————————————————————

You had always loved a night in.

Whether it was a cozy night spent snuggled up with a blanket and a good book, or a new release of a gory slasher you’d been anxiously waiting to get your hands on, it felt like there was nothing better in the world than being home.

…but you had to admit that there was one thing that topped even your favorite at-home activity.

Cinema Club.

Which, while admittedly only being adjacent to what you’d be doing anyway, did offer the occasional change of scenery that you grew to greatly appreciate. ‘

The Woodsboro High School Cinema Club was the one place in the world where the film geeks and creatives at your school could come together to co-exist, which had been more than enough to draw you in.

You had always loved movies as a means of expression and any opportunity to talk about them with people who enjoyed them just as much was too good to pass up.

That wasn’t what really sealed the deal for you though.

What kept you coming back to that mismatched group of nerds was the underbelly of Cinema Club, comprised of all the horror fanatics and true crime junkies of Woodsboro, who came to get together and discuss some of their favorite aspects of the genre.

In a town so famous for its own serial killer, there was little open discussion about any aspect, which had never sat right with you.

After all, everyone on planet Earth had seen at least one of the “Stab” films, and still, most of Woodsboro’s residents actively chose to live in a delusion.

That was what made Cinema Club so compelling, and its president along with it.

Charlie Walker, or the King of the Freaks as you’d taken to calling him in the comfort of your own mind, was a huge film buff and one of the only people whose love of horror seemed to rival your own.

He was clever and had a lot of interesting theories about a lot of different things, the Stab franchise and the events that inspired it chief among them. In fact, in the years you’d been attending his club, you’d

spent several evenings heatedly debating over which slasher was the best or which classic horror trope you’d choose given the option.

In a lot of ways, he was one of the only people you felt seen by in that way, and eventually, you formed quite an attachment to the man, even if you’d never acted on it.

Maybe that was why you’d called him.

It had really come out of left field, and you had never reached out to him before in your life outside of occasionally asking him about a point of contention within the horror community or to get his opinion on something.

You couldn’t even say that you were friends, but that didn’t change the fact that when you got the news that someone wearing a Ghostface mask was running around cutting people up, your first thought had been of Charlie.

It was only natural.

You were going to be home all night long by yourself, and while that was normally your idea of a fantastic night, it seemed foolish to be alone like a sitting duck all night, hoping you wouldn’t run into a killer.

After all, Ghostface was a legend around this town and you weren’t about to underestimate what someone could be capable of once they put on that mask.

It seemed right to be afraid, at first.

Though, now that you were sitting in the dark waiting for Charlie to show up, you were starting to doubt yourself. Would he think you were a huge loser for bothering him over something so arbitrary? Was he doing something when you called?

If he were, you figured he would have turned you down instead of telling you he’d be at your house in fifteen, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think you were lame.

God, you were lame, weren’t you?

You started to sigh, debating whether or not you should just call Charlie and tell him not to bother, but you didn’t get the chance before a loud banging on your front door nearly sent you flying out of your seat.

Your first instinct was to grab a kitchen knife and take it with you, sort of like how Casey’s character had in the opening scene of the first stab, but you quickly abandoned that idea.

It hadn’t helped her, and you were sure it wouldn’t prove any more useful for you now.

“Charlie? Is that you?” you called out, letting your careful footsteps carry you toward the door, without bothering to turn on a light. If it wasn’t him, you didn’t need whoever was out there knowing exactly where you were.

Briefly, you felt a flash of heat wash over you at how embarrassing this would be if it was Charlie at the door, only to once again have that ice prick at your spine at the even worse possibility that he hadn’t left his house yet.

What would you do if this was the killer at your door? If you opened it and found that haunting face staring back at you in the pitch dark?

You weren’t sure.

“You alive in there, sweetheart? I brought popcorn”

All at once, relief flooded you as you took in the voice through the door. It was muffled, sure, but even if you weren’t entirely sure it was Charlie waiting for you, you were confident Ghostface didn’t use pet names like that on his victims.

“Yeah, I’m good” you assured, pulling open the door to find none other than Charlie Walker standing there, that brown mop of hair falling in his face as he turned to meet your face.

You weren’t entirely sure what he’d been watching out by the street, but in all honesty, you didn’t even question it. You were so glad to not be alone, especially after that scare, you weren’t even sure you’d processed it, even if he told you.

Proven further when he grinned at you like you’d missed something important.

“I said, can I come in? I don’t think it’s safe to spend all night in the open doorway” Charlie hummed, making it clear that he was teasing you, which you nearly bristled at. Perhaps, if he’d been anyone else, you would have.

That was the thing about Charlie though, even when he was poking fun at you, it never felt mean-spirited or cruel, and you appreciated that.

You had always been a little hard to get to know, and even harder to get along with, but he didn’t even bat an eye at your slightly more reserved nature or casual obsession with grisly crimes and imagery.

He never made you feel bad, or less than you were.

“Sure. Come on in,” you suggested finally, taking a brief beat to collect yourself from the very hectic last 2 minutes.

“Sorry, I feel like this is super weird. I just didn’t want to be alone tonight” you tried, hoping that sounded less pathetic out loud than it did when it reached your ears.

It would be a lie to say that you’d never thought about having Charlie over, but never had it been under these circumstances, and never had it been this awkward.

He must have thought you were a freak.

“No worries. I was just going to spend it with Robbie and trust me, you’re much better company” he assured, watching casually as you closed and latched your front door and turned back to him, visibly relieved.

He was telling you the truth.

Given the choice, he would most certainly like to spend time with a pretty girl over the same guy he’d been attached to since grade school. After all, you’d made it clear when you called that you didn’t want to be alone.

,,,and that you needed someone to look after you.

Charlie was more than happy to be that someone, and he could protect you if he had to, especially from Ghostface.

“I don’t know about that. Robbie seems like a pretty good time” you countered, trying to joke back with him without it being weird, though he didn’t bother to respond to that. Instead, he followed you into your living room and helped himself to your couch.

When you’d invited him over, you hadn’t really considered what you’d do to pass the time, but given the pretense for how you knew one another, and the Jiffy pop Charlie had brought, it didn’t seem too far off to put in a movie.

“I was thinking about watching Stab 2 before I called you,” you prompted, assuming that Charlie would either agree or disagree rather quickly after the suggestion.

You knew the President of Cinema Club to be a lot of things, but soft-spoken had never been one of them.

“Sounds good to me”

This room was one you’d set foot in at least once every day for most of your life, but it wasn’t the warm, inviting space it normally was, at least not with Charlie present. Under his watchful eye, you almost felt as if the air itself was popping with energy.

However, when you once again peeked at him and took in his composure, you realized that nervous energy was actually just buzzing under your skin.

“The kill in the opening scene of this one is one of my favorite of the franchise. I think the practical effects are so well done,” you hummed, relaxing only slightly as the welcoming score to Stab 2 filled your ears.

The title screen flashed in black and green, a few choppy chase scenes from the middle of the movie playing on repeat while the music blared, and you ate it up just like you did every time.

It was probably one of your favorite movies of all time, and without even thinking, you sat down next to Charlie, though you kept distance both between your bodies and between you and the back of the couch.

“The gore in the first movie was more experimental, but I think by this one, they were more confident and knew just how far they could take all the body horror”

Charlie hummed again, listening to you as you talked with more enthusiasm than he’d ever seen from you during club meetings.

You participated in discussions, of course, but it was always more muted and careful. Like, you were constantly worried someone would think you took it too far or crossed some line you weren’t sure existed.

It was nice to watch you drop all the pretence for once and just enjoy something that clearly meant a lot to the both of you.

“But, did you know that guy actually burst an eardrum getting stabbed like that, even with a prop knife?” he spoke up, pointing out one of his own fun facts.

You didn’t, but you could believe it.

The force that had to go behind something like that, even when it wasn’t real, had to be super intense and you couldn’t imagine being on the receiving end of it, something you apparently said out loud, given Charlie’s face.

“I don’t know. It might not be that bad, it would take forever though” he allowed, further shocking you as you processed both what he’d said and the fact that you’d accidentally just been way weirder than you’d meant to.

You stopped, abandoning the movie fully now and turning to face where he’d been sitting, watching your reactions more than the movie itself.

“What would take forever? Getting stabbed?” you questioned, only partially aware of what you may have asked him in your adrenaline-fueled haze. You couldn’t imagine it took too long from start to finish if you were being honest.

Charlie scoffed, though it was more of a laugh than anything concrete or mocking, “No, bleeding out from a wound like that. It would take way longer than you’d think” he explained, with a casual shrug.

You believed him.

This wouldn’t be the first time he’d shared a strange or unexpected fact with you about something like that, and you certainly didn’t want to question him. Though, you did find yourself glancing toward the door and windows absently.

When you two had discussed this before, it was always in a well-lit room full of people, but this was much more intimate…and ominous.

After all, someone had just been stabbed to death yesterday in their home, and you didn’t like the idea of just how long it had taken them to bleed out.

“Sorry. That’s in bad taste, huh?” Charlie tried, finding the joy he’d gotten from watching you excited coldly replaced with your discomfort, or fear, more likely. “Don’t worry, I got you” he assured, his gaze shifting from the side of your face to your hand.

You were holding the couch cushion lightly in your fist, almost as if it would keep you safe, and that just wouldn’t do.

Not while he was right here, waiting to comfort you.

“Nobody’s gonna get you” His words were soft, near a whisper as he focused on gathering his courage and finally made his move, reaching out to take your hand in his own.

The action made you shift, and rather than falling off the edge of the couch onto the floor, you leaned back, closer to where Charlie was already situated.

“I just can’t imagine what that’s like” you allowed, steeling your own nerves and meeting his eyes, which subsequently sent a kaleidoscope of butterflies into your gut.

The topic was grim, and you both knew that, but for such a nasty conversation, you were feeling anything but disturbed. It would have been hard to be, with him looking at you like that, his thumb stroking your wrist gently.

“You are never going to find out. I can promise you that” Charlie spoke again, more earnest now than you ever could have predicted.

It wasn’t something he could promise, you knew that, but that didn’t make it any less reassuring.

“Charlie?”

He hummed, never breaking eye contact with you, not even shifting even as you blinked away, your gaze flicking momentarily to the third death scene playing out on screen.

“This seems like a pretty good time to mention that I have a little bit of a crush on you” you mentally cursed yourself for how small you sounded, but not for long before you had to confront the feeling of Charlie’s mouth against your own in a bruising kiss.

He had been waiting with bated breath to see which one of you would get the chance to confess first, and while he didn’t think it would be you, he couldn’t be happier regardless.

The kiss lasted for quite some time, with Charlie only pulling away just long enough to fully close the gap you’d been keeping between your bodies this entire time.

“I’m so glad you called me” he whispered, one of his hands coming to rest on your jaw to keep you close while the other played gently at your fingers.

You heard yourself let out a dreamy sort of sigh in reply, but you were far too caught up in what you were feeling to really process it. So, rather than dwell on it, you just nodded softly, “I’m so glad you came”

“I’ll always be here when you need me, sweetheart. Don’t worry about a thing” he cooed, saying each word with the depth and sincerity as a vow, and the intensity that only Charlie Walker could pooling in those blue eyes.

..and the thing was, you believed every word.

Even on this couch, in the dead of night, in the heart of Woodsboro, you felt completely at ease because who could really get to you when someone looked at you like that?

Nobody hiding behind a mask, that was for sure.

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