Average Good Hero x Eldritch Nightmare
Blonde Blazer x Cyn!Reader Fluff Alphabet
Since this isnt part of the story and more for fun, I'll scrap the ââââââ stuff and just refer to the Reader as Reader.
Mandy never thought sheâd be the more affectionate oneâbut here she is.
Sheâs the one who reaches out first: a hand on your shoulder, fingers brushing the back of your neck to steady it when it tilts too far. You respond by copying her gestures with uncanny precision, sometimes seconds later, sometimes minutes.
âAffection reciprocated,â you say, monotone.
Then you lean into her anyway.
You donât initiate often, but when you do, itâs absolute, quietly sitting beside her, resting your head against her arm like gravity finally chose you. Mandy pretends her heart doesnât stutter every time.
She plans schedules. You destroy celestial bodies.
You obey her without resistance, not out of submission but trust. When she tells you to stay, you stay. When she tells you to wait, you do, hands folded, feet turned inward.
Occasionally, reality bends slightly to make her plans easier.
Mandy never questions why.
Cuddling is⊠experimental.
You donât quite understand comfort, but you understand proximity. You sit too stiff at first, narrating adjustments aloud.
âArm placement corrected.â
âThermal regulation acceptable.â
Mandy eventually pulls you closer, tucking your head under her chin, holding it there when your neck threatens to give out. You go very still.
Your internal systems quiet.
You do not move until she does.
You are terrible at chores.
Not because you wonât do them, because you do them too well.
Once, you cleaned the kitchen so thoroughly that the concept of bacteria in a eighty-foot radius ceased to exist.
You enjoy cooking, but only because you like narrating the process.
âLight stir.â
âHeat application.â
âCatastrophic errorâoh.â
The smoke alarm fears you.
Mandy is the breadwinner.
Unofficially, you occasionally conjure rare matter or impossible materials that somehow end up funding SDN infrastructure upgrades. Mandy doesnât ask. Accounting doesnât question it.
If there were ever children involved, Mandy knows, knows, youâd be the one home.
Watching. Waiting. Protecting.
Not because Mandy hesitatesâbut because you donât understand what marriage means beyond âpermanent association.â
When you finally propose, itâs quiet.
âRequest: continued existence together,â you say, holding out a ring you fabricated from a collapsed star. âForever, if acceptable.â
Mandy cries. She says yes immediately.
The wedding is small. The universe behaves itself. Barely.
You are devastatingly gentle with her.
You regulate your strength, your presence, your very existence around Mandy. Reality stabilizes when sheâs near. You touch her like she might shatter, not because sheâs weak, but because sheâs precious.
In moments where the Solver stirs, Mandy grounds you with a hand on your chest.
Not maliciously, just because some truths are too large. Mandy senses it but doesnât push. She knows when something isnât meant for her.
When you do tell the truth, itâs absolute.
âI would end the universe for you,â you say once, calmly.
âI love you,â you state, flat. Then, concerned: âEmotion detected. Clarification requested.â
Mandy laughs through tears and says it back.
You repeat it often afterward. Sometimes just to hear the sound.
When someone flirts with Mandy, the lights flicker. Gravity feels heavier.
You lean in and say, pleasantly, âShe is mine.â
Mandy clears her throat and gently steers you away before something catastrophic happens.
You like kisses on the forehead.
They feel⊠stabilizing.
Mandy prefers your cheek, cool, faintly humming with power. Sometimes she presses a kiss to your temple just to feel the world settle.
You always pause afterward.
They are loud. Fragile. Inefficient.
You kneel to their level, eyes glowing softly, terrifying every parent except Mandy. You would guard a child with the same fervor you guard her.
Mandy suspects youâd be an excellent parent in the strangest way.
Instead, you watch her, head tilted, memorizing her breathing patterns until she stirs.
âMorning,â you say the instant her eyes open.
Less noise. Less expectation.
You sit on rooftops with Mandy, legs dangling, stars bending ever so slightly closer when you hum. Mandy leans against you, trusting the world wonât end tonight.
You make sure it doesnât.
You donât talk about what you are.
But you are open about how you feel about her.
âI am calmer when you are near.â
âI prefer existence with you.â
Mandy takes that as love.
You are terrifyingly protective.
Nothing touches Mandy without your permission, be it threat, timeline, or fate itself.
You would unravel gods for her.
She knows this and gently asks you not to.
Birthdays. Anniversaries. The exact tone Mandy used the first time she laughed at you.
You remind her of things before she forgets.
She pretends not to notice how comforting that is.
Your favorite memory is simple.
Mandy asleep on the couch. Her head on your shoulder. Your systems quiet.
You like sitting together.
Mandy working. You watching. Occasionally narrating something mundane just to hear your own voice.
âContentment acknowledged.â
Thatâs what makes it work.
Mandy hates that sometimes⊠she forgets youâre dangerous.
You hate that sometimes⊠you enjoy her fearing you.
Neither of you say it out loud.
You donât care how you look.
She fixes your clothes, smooths your hair, adjusts your posture. You let her. You trust her judgment more than your own.
Without Mandy, you would still exist.
But it would be⊠incomplete.
With her, the universe feels quieter.
Sometimes, when Mandy is overwhelmed, you quietly fold reality to make things easier.
Mandyâs favorite thing about you?
That for all your power, for all your horror
