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daddy-dotcom · 10 months

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Bang My Line

Summary: You're Penelope Garcia's first intern, and you learn a lot more from her than just her technical skills.

Rating: M

Words:4, 357

Warnings: Fluff, typical canon violence mentions, smut ;)

*reblogs or comments r much appreciated*

Read my newest fic Scents and Sensibility out now 🤭

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The first day was a blur. It was scary enough to completely change career paths, but working for the FBI was an entirely different beast. Between what seemed like hundreds of background checks and interviews, I finally made it to my first day. Granted, I would just be an intern for now, but hopefully this would lead to a permanent position as a technical analyst. I waited in the lobby for Penelope Garcia, the woman who would be my mentor for the duration of my time with the BAU. We had spoken over the phone and even texted back and forth a bit, but this would be my first time meeting in person.

“There she is! My shiny new intern.”

“Hi you must be Agent Garcia,” I replied with my arm outstretched. She took it and gave what was the most enthusiastic hand shake I’ve ever seen.

“Oh honey, I’m way too fun for you to call me agent. Call me Penelope.” I shook my head in agreement and she led me towards the elevator.

“I know I gave you a rundown of the team via our text messages, but be prepared for them to ask you a million questions. You’re my first ever intern and they’re dying to meet the newest member of the team.”

“Duly noted, just know I’m going to be doing the same to you Penn because I’m a little out of my element here.”

“hmm Penn, I like the sound of that.”

As the elevator doors opened, I could see the rest of the team gathered around a desk, too focused on their own conversation to notice me and Penelope.

“Everyone, please welcome my first and only intern (Y/N).”

The man in the crisp black suit stood up first to greet me and introduced himself as Agent Aaron Hotchner.

“Penelope has not shut up about her new intern so it’s nice to finally put a pretty face to the name. I’m SSA Derek Morgan.”

I let out a bashful chuckle as I shook Morgan’s hand. Penelope did warn me that he could be a bit of a flirt. I was then greeted by a blonde woman who goes by JJ and an older man named Agent Rossi.

“Don’t tell me you write in pink sparkly gel pen too?” he jokingly asked.

I smiled and shook my head no, before being greeted by Agent Emily Prentiss.

“Don’t mind Rossi, it’s always nice to have another woman on the team to keep these boys in check.”

She gestured towards Morgan and the other agent beside her, who I can only assume is none other than Dr. Spencer Reid.

Penelope had described him as quote “Steven Hawking trapped in a young Bill Nye’s body.” What I didn’t expect was for him to actually be attractive. Sure, Agent Morgan and even Agent Hotchner were easy on the eyes, but Spencer Reid was strikingly handsome in the most unassuming way. The soft golden waves that covered the top of his head combined with those puppy dog eyes were enough to remind me how nervous I was to be joining the team.

“Nice to meet you (Y/N)” he said as he took my hand. My palms were beginning to sweat, but the steadiness of his firm grasp eased my nerves.

“Likewise,” was all I could manage to say. He held my gaze for what felt like both a moment and an eternity, before releasing my hand.

“Well, (Y/N), let’s get you briefed on your first case,” said Penelope.

I followed Penelope into the briefing room and decided to sit in the seat closest to the screen so that I could take notes on her presentation. To my surprise, Spencer took the seat next to me. As if I wasn't already a nervous wreck, his close proximity to me was going to make my writing even more illegible than usual. Still, I could get used to sitting next to the most handsome member of the team.

As Penelope wrapped up her presentation and the rest of the team departed on the jet, the bubbly blonde gave me a little tour of her office. Rossi wasn't joking about Penelope's love of glitter gel pens, and her desk was adorned with unicorn paperweights and mermaid statues.

"This is your workspace over here, (Y/N), although you'll mostly be assisting me for the first couple of weeks. Feel free to decorate your desk with as many unicorns as you please," she said.

The first hour or so of work was mostly getting situated in my new workspace, but we soon got our first call from the team, and it was from the man himself, Derek Morgan. Penelope pressed the button to answer the phone and his voice immediately came through the speaker for both of us to hear.

"It's your babygirl and her babygirl in training, what do ya need hot stuff?" said Penelope.

"Hey mama, I need you to look into Walter Price's bank activity for the last few months, see if there were any suspicious withdrawals or transfers."

"Anything for you gorgeous"

"Thanks babygirl, I'll be expecting your call back soon."

I sat with my mouth slightly ajar, looking over at Penelope dumbfounded.

"Do you talk to everyone on the phone that way?" you asked.

"Nope, just my sweet lover Derek Morgan."

I paused for a second before asking my follow up question, "so are you two like...in a relationship?"

"Only in my dreams," Penelope said with a wink. I let out a laugh because this whole situation surprisingly made me more at ease in my new job.

"As your intern, I guess it's my job to learn how to answer the phone like you?" I said with a wicked smile.

"Oh no my dear, at least, not yet. We've got a long way to go before you get to my level. And of course you'll have to find your own gorgeous man to talk dirty to, Morgan is already taken."

That definitely wouldn't be a problem, I already had the most gorgeous man on the team in mind.

I spent the next few weeks listening in on Penelope's phone calls and looking up information for her. I even got to help her present a new case to the team. After my first week, the team took me out to celebrate surviving my first case with the BAU. Even though I had become more comfortable around everyone on the team, I couldn't shake the butterflies Reid gave me whenever we interacted. However, I did notice that I was much more confident over the phone than in person. I tried to conceal my blossoming crush on Spencer as best I could, but I couldn't help but be the slightest bit sweeter to him whenever he was the one who called us.

During my second month of internship, we had a particularly hard time tracking down an unsub. Penelope was getting way too many names and she called Spencer to help her narrow down the list.

"There were traces of chlorine and calcium hypochlorite on the body which are chemicals commonly used in pool maintenance, Garcia narrow it down to men over 40 in the area who own pools or work in pool maintenance," he said.

"One name! It's Michael Dunlop, he works as a freelance pool maintenance man and, ooh get this, he hasn't responded to any jobs since the first murder on June 11th."

"Sending the address to your phones right now!" I interjected.

"Thanks (Y/N),"

"Anything for you, cutie" I said, with a sudden burst of confidence.

As I hung up with a satisfied look on my face, Penelope glanced over at me looking smug as ever.

"Cutie huh? That's a new one," Penelope said, "I knew I'd rub off on you sooner or later." And she was right. I started incorporating more color into my work wardrobe and I even brought my tiny stuffed cow to sit at my desk.

"You said I had to find my own gorgeous man to flirt with on the phone...so I did."

"I knew it! You have a crush on our genius boy-wonder!" She was positively giddy just by the thought of it. "I mean he's always sitting next to you and looking over at you when he thinks no one is noticing. You would think in a room full of profilers that I wouldn't be the only one to notice, and yet here we are."

It never occurred to me that my little crush might actually be reciprocated. Spencer was always a bit socially awkward, so I just assumed that he was the same way with me. I never once thought that he was actually as nervous to talk to me as I was to him. This fact somehow boosted my confidence even more, and I decided to have some fun with Spencer over the phone.

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"Cutie huh?" Morgan asked the blushing boy. Spencer was used to Penelope teasing him, but this was different. He had been harboring a small crush on their newest intern for the past month, and when she flirted with him over speakerphone for Morgan, of all people, to hear, Spencer couldn't help but turn as red as a tomato.

Of course, being a profiler, Morgan took notice of Reid's crimson cheeks. "Call me crazy but I think she likes you, pretty boy."

"O-of course not, she's just copying the way Garcia talks to you," Spencer stuttered.

"That may be true, the only difference is that you have a little crush yourself."

Spencer didn't bother trying to lie since he knew Morgan would see right through him, so he just mumbled something about Prentiss and Hotch needing them at the location (Y/N) sent.

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It was a lot easier to flirt with Spencer when he wasn't physically in front of me. When we were in the office together, we'd shoot each other smiles from across the room or he'd bring me an extra coffee in the morning. But when he was out in the field and I was back at my desk at the BAU, it was a whole different game. I tried my hardest to make him blush over the phone any chance I got, and it seemed to be working. After Penelope found out about my little crush, she decided to play matchmaker and slip Spencer my work phone number to call me instead for information. For the first time, I heard my phone ring instead of Penelope's and I immediately answered.

“Give it to me good baby, what do you need from me?” I replied. I knew it was Spencer since he was the only one who had my number.

"Hey (Y/N)" he said, and I swear I could hear him smiling through the phone. I could tell he had become more comfortable with our one-sided phone flirting over the past month. "I need you to look up all of Dr. Gupta's patients at the psychiatric clinic for the past 3 months, see if any of them drive a black van."

"You got it, gorgeous. If you need anything you know you can always bang my line."

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“You have (Y/N)’s number?” JJ asked.

Spencer looked puzzled, “Yea.. don’t we all?”

“I think it’s just you pretty boy” Morgan quipped, as he chuckled and gave him a pat on the back.

Spencer had grown fond of (Y/N)'s phone flirtation, but he was too embarrassed to return the favor in front of his colleagues. He loved watching her walk around the office in her high heels, trying to keep up with Penelope's fast pace. He knew brief glances and morning coffees weren't going to cut it anymore, he had to do something before her internship was over. So he decided to call her on his way home from working the case.

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The team had just finished a case and were on the plane headed back to Quantico. Penelope had plans so she left me to wrap things up in the office. Just as I was making my way towards the door, my phone began to ring. Confused, I picked up the phone and listened to see if it was a misdial.

"Hey babygirl."

I nearly choked when I realized who was speaking. My body involuntarily shivered and my heart quickened its pace. This "babygirl" hadn't come from Morgan, it was Spencer on the other line.

"Hi Spencer! What's up I thought you guys wrapped up the case?" I asked in a confused tone.

"We did, but I thought I'd call you without everyone else around." His voice sounded sultry and silky smooth, unlike his usual rapid rambling, and it made it so much harder for me to speak. "We should be landing in about twenty minutes, stay in your office and I'll meet you there."

"Okay, I'll be waiting here, handsome."

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Those twenty minutes were the longest twenty minutes of my life. I knew Spencer had a crush on me as well, but what could he possibly want to meet with me for? Was he going to ask me to stop flirting with him on the phone? Was he going to ask me out? Was he trying to make out with me? God I secretly hoped it was the latter...

Just as I had been getting lost in my own thoughts, I heard the familiar voices of the rest of the team down the hall. I knew Spencer would be walking into my office any minute, so I nervously fixed my hair and applied the lipgloss Penelope gave me.

"Hey babygirl," said the tall man standing in the door frame.

"Hi Spencie," I said with a smile as I called him the nickname I lovingly gave him, which I'm sure he secretly hates. I couldn’t help but grin since the word “baby girl” still seemed so foreign coming from his mouth. I stood up to meet his gaze as he slowly made his way over to my desk.

"I know you've been teasing me these past couple weeks," he said as we closed the gap between our bodies. I would say our faces were inches from each other, but he was impossibly tall and my face didn't reach past his chest, "but now its my turn to tease you," he said as he brought his hands behind my ears and pressed his lips onto mine. He was gentle and tentative at first, but I passionately pressed my lips back against his to deepen the kiss. I ran my hands through his gorgeous locks and began to tug. We quickly became a breathless mess and I couldn't help the feeling building in the pit of my stomach. His hands traveled down to my waist and he gingerly pulled me closer. He was both hesitant and passionate, not quite sure if he should act on his instincts. He pulled back for just a second to speak:

"I know you only have a few weeks left with us, but would you like to get coffee sometime?" he asked with those same puppy dog eyes that made me fall for him in the first place.

"Oh Spencie, we're a bit past coffee don't you think?" I said with blushy cheeks. "Let's get dinner sometime, I'm free any night except Tuesday, I have Zumba class with Penelope."

"She really has influenced you a lot hasn't she?" he said, making a mental note of the pink scrunchie in my hair.

"In more ways than one hot stuff."

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Over the next few weeks, I spent my days phone flirting with Spencer at work and my nights making out with him in my office or eating Chinese take-out in his apartment. No one on the team, not even Penelope, knew about our brewing workplace romance, and we intended to keep it that way until I was hired permanently. However, that didn't stop him from flirting back on our calls. I was on my last week of internship and I was now the only one who Spencer called when he needed information. Spencer and I had agreed to take it slow, but our most recent calls had me desperate to find out what else he was packing besides the gun strapped to his hip. Just then, a call interrupted my wandering thoughts and I immediately picked up knowing it was him.

“Dayton Ohio you're on the air" I answered in my sexiest voice possible.

"I'd like to make a request," Spencer replied.

"You can request anything you want, doctor" I could hear him chuckle behind the phone before telling me what he actually needed.

"I need you to look up a marketing firm by the name of Firsthand Media and see if they have any connections to the colleges of the first set of victims."

"I'm on it, sugar" I answered.

"Oh and one more favor, look up the words beautiful and brilliant and see what you can find."

"Look at that, it's me"

"You're the best (Y/N)"

I could feel Penelope's eyes on me before she turned around and said

"I've never been more proud."

The rest of the day was filled with calls from the other agents to Penelope, mostly Morgan, until that evening when I got one last call from Spencer. He asked me to see if there were any men who had been admitted to the hospital in the last 6 months for brain injuries, but no one came up.

"Couldn't find anything, looks like you're going to have to punish me Spencie," I replied.

"You'll just have to wait til I get back for that"

He hung up, and I couldn't believe what I just heard. Penelope and I were in shock that Spencer Reid could be so dirty. For once, I was the one blushing on the other end.

"(Y/N) I swear to god if you don't let that man make sweet love to you I am personally writing your letter of resignation"

"Penn! We just flirt is all, like you and Morgan, I could never actually be with him"

"So you two haven't been using my sacred office space to make-out between cases?" she asked with raised eyebrows. I stood there, with my mouth open and eyes wide, looking guilty as ever.

"You do know there's a camera in this office right?" I was mortified. Thank God we'd never done anything more than kiss in this office.

"You knew this whole time? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Oh Morgan knows, but everybody else is still in the dark because I didn't want to risk you not getting hired. And I hacked into the security computers and deleted the footage."

"Thank you so much Penn, and I promise I won't have anymore heated makeout sessions in this office, or anywhere in this building for that matter."

"Anything for my little protege. But in all seriousness, you should definitely ride boy-wonder off into the sunset and make it official once you're hired."

"Penelope!" I hit her in the arm, only half jokingly because I knew deep down that that's exactly what I should do.

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As usual, I waited in my office for Spencer to meet me. But this time, I was determined to go back to his apartment and finish what we started over the phone.

"Hello beautiful" he said as he made his way over to me. He greeted me with a hungry kiss and it took every ounce of strength I had not to pin him down and ride him in this office.

"Spencer listen, we can't makeout in this office anymore. Garcia and Morgan know about us already and she had to delete the footage off of the security cameras."

"Morgan knows? That present he gave me actually makes a lot of sense now."

"Nevermind that," I said before moving closer to whisper in his ear, "what I need now is for you to punish me like you said you would."

I could feel his heart beating out of his chest, his eyes went wide but faintest hint of a smile appeared on his deliciously soft lips.

"well then what are we waiting for" he said as he grabbed my hand and practically pulled me out of the office.

We wasted no time getting back to his apartment. Reid was always such a cautious driver, but this time he was driving like his life depended on it. Once in the building, he wouldn't let go of my hand and we were practically sprinting towards his door. He fumbled with the key for a moment before the door sprang open and I pushed him inside with the force of my lips on his. His hands had become quite comfortable exploring my body, and tonight was no exception. I tugged on his tie without breaking the kiss and he let out a heavy sigh as I led him towards his bedroom. I pushed him once again, this time down onto the bed, and I practically jumped on top of him to straddle his waist. As I let my weight rest on the growing bulge in his pants, he let out the sexiest groan and I could feel the wetness pooling in my panties. I continued to grind on him as we completely devoured each other. This wasn't the first time we'd done this, but this time it was different, we both wanted more.

"Spence please," I whined, "I need you."

"You can have me baby," he replied, looking up at me with those puppy dog eyes that I adore so much.

We quickly undressed and I raced to climb back on top of him.

"You really are beautiful," he said while tucking a loose strand of hair back behind my ear. I smiled back at him and gently kissed his lips before going back to grinding over his now bare cock.

His groans were like music to my ears and I couldn't help but sighing at the feeling of him gliding across my exposed cunt.

"Baby please, I want to be inside you," he pleaded.

"Do you have a, uh, condom?" I asked, somewhat sheepishly.

"I do...that was actually the 'gift' that Morgan got me," he said followed by a nervous chuckle. He reached into the drawer on the bedside table and, slightly trembling, opened the package.

"I-I just want you to know that I haven't done this in a while, (Y/N)," he began, "I don't know if I'll be any good." He was just as nervous as I was. I gave him a sympathetic nod before replying.

"It's okay Spence, it's been a while for me too. I guess you could say we get pretty caught up in our work."

"Agreed," he said, slightly more at ease.

As soon as he finished up rolling on the condom, I wasted no time lining him up with my entrance and sinking onto his length.

"Fuck, baby" he moaned with his eyes screwed shut "you feel so good." It was insanely hot to hear such foul language come out of Spencer Reid's mouth.

"You want me to ride you baby?" I asked teasingly.

"Yes please..."

I began to bounce rapidly on his dick, feeling every inch of him come in and out of me. I had a feeling he wasn't going to last long, but I didn't care, I was beyond happy to just watch the pleasure that I was bringing him. I took his hands and placed them on my breasts, which caused a simultaneous moan to come from the both of us.

"God (Y/N) you're going to make me cum" he said, nearly out of breath.

I knew he was close, but I was slowing down as my legs began to give out on me. He sensed the slowing of my pace, so he took one hand from my breast, wrapped it around my waist, and began to pump into me from below.

“Consider this your punishment babygirl”

This new angle was heaven to me and I couldn't help but cry out. He was fucking me so hard I swear I could see stars.

"Oh god Spence," I moaned. For someone who has been out of the game for a while, he was making me feel so good.

"I'm gonna...I'm..." he muttered.

"Let it out Spence, cum for me baby."

And with that, he spilled his load inside the condom. He just kept coming and coming inside of me until there was nothing left. Spencer Reid was utterly and completely spent.

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“Well Dr. Reid, you sure know how to please a woman,” you said poking him in the rib.

“What can I say, I’m an overachiever,” he replied with a cocky smile plastered on his face.

As I was about to go in for a kiss on his cheek, my cellphone rang, and it was a call from Penelope.

“Hello my pretty! Sorry in advance that I’m probably interrupting your sexy times with boy-wonder but I just couldn’t wait to tell you. You got the job!”

“Oh my goodness! That’s great news, thanks Penn! What department am I in?”

“You’re going to be working in the international intelligence department, aaaaand that means you’ll probably have to report your little romance directly to human resources.”

“Sounds good Garcia, we’ll take care of that first thing in the morning,” Reid interjected.

“Ah, so boy-wonder is there with you! Looks like you took my advice after all (Y/N),” Penelope replied.

I rolled my eyes and said “Goodnight Penelopeeee” in a sing-songy voice.

“Goodnight you two, be safe and don’t stay up tooooo late.”

“Aww, what ever happened to the fun Penelope Garcia?”

“She’s not here right now but leave a message, bye!” And with that our conversation was over.

“Guess it’s time to tell the rest of the team about us”

“I guess so Spence, good luck handling all the teasing on your own baby,” I said with a giggle and planted a kiss on his cheek before drifting off to sleep. Tomorrow was surely going to be an interesting day at the office.

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AN: Thanks for all the love, shameless plug for my newest oneshot The Visit

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#criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #penelope garcia #matthew gray gubler #mgg #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #david rossi

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fishtrouts · 3 months

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I’m sorry if this has been already asked but could we have a bit more lore on Avoryx? I’m sorry if I’m bothering or pressuring you.

Hi anon! This is not a bother at all, in fact I’m delighted to loredump about my favorite menace :D

Many probably already know, but Avoryx is Hopper’s mother! Now although she’s known as a particularly destructive, even for a dragon, she’s actually a pretty alright parent. Before Hopper was born she arrived at wherever my comics take place and just.. wreaked havoc. Slaughtered and ate all the other dragons that lived there and then laid a single egg.

Avoryx is not at all bothered by Hopper’s pinkness. In fact as soon as Hopper was old enough to venture out on her own she stopped caring. Hopper was out there doing her own thing and the sooner her hatchling grows independent the better. If her whelp came running back to her lair with knights giving chase she’d eat them and then she’s usually aggravated enough to slink out of the ruins she made her lair in and rip apart whichever settlement she stumbles on.

Also, instead of the classic dragonfire, Avoryx expels black smoke from her maw, and a scalding tar-like liquid drips from between her blackened teeth. Her presence is announced by a cloud of smog, a telltale sign of impending death. The unknown liquid she leaves behind on her path of destruction can be collected. It’s sticky, corrosive, and smells vile, but dragon slayers and alchemists need to collect whatever samples they can if they hope to one day slay this beast.

Oh and she has an old “pet” raven that acts as an alarm clock and reports activity near her vicinity. It also picks scraps from between her teeth - a personal dentist!

It’s kind of a mystery how the bird has been spared from becoming a morsel.

#avoryx the wicked #oc lore

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simonrillleyyysss · 17 days

Note

Sweetest🖤

I have an idea for you, hear me out right:

Guarddog!Simon x f!reader (nsfw) :

• Simon is a hybrid, ex-military/rehabilitated illegal fighting. He's just existing now with no home.

• Reader is antisocial, working girl but she wants company and protection.

• She goes to adopt a companion, did not expect taking Simon since he was left isolated for being difficult.

• She gives him independence outright despite what she adopted him for but he stays, she treats him like a being.

• Lowkey they're enemies to lovers because they're both the same, grumpy x grumpy- they take time.

You can develop that dynamic and add in the nsfw, I'm thinking Simon goes crazy knowing he's intine with the readers cycle so when ovulation time hits - fireworks are given.

Feel free to change this however you'd like 🥀

thank u 4 this!! absolutely inlove!!! longest i’ve written in ages >_<

i feel like simon views himself as unloveable, unwanted and ruined goods;how could he not? he’s so easily irritable and snappy, always rude and unnecessarily passive-aggressive, he’d take up so much time in anyone’s schedule—let alone your own, originally, you weren’t signing up to be a free rehab program..you’re not an AA meeting for some mutt..

but, here you were.

he wasn’t ideal, but he would do. it took him centuries to get used to a life like this—free reign of his own path and livelihood, he wants to eat? go to the kitchen, sure. he wants to go for a walk? alright, be back soon. he’s like a baby going to nursery, he is timid but adapts.

clashing? always, he’s constantly starting you for something stupid and irrelevant, winding himself and you up.

“y’didn’t run me a bath today.”

“it’s not your bathtime, idiot.”

“well i want a fuckin’ bath.”

“well i want an actual fuckin’ pet.”

eventually ends up with you pushing(PS; trying to, he’s a rock.) him away from you while you tapped at the keys on the laptop, complaining about how you need to get this finished by tonight, shaking your head.

again, he cannot handle being pampered.

sometimes he’ll come and lay his head on your lap while glancing up at you, seemingly just to unwind and de-stress himself after something happened, and when you go to scratch his scalp? he’s snapping at you instinctively, listening to your yelp—reaching for his muzzle, has to mope around with it on all day. (he might’ve snapped on purpose, but he won’t admit that, will he?)

thing 1 and thing 2, you annoy him and he annoys you back, basically!

when he does eventually warm up to you and things like affection and gentle solidarity, he’ll soak it up.literally. sometimes you’ll just walk over to him, brush your hand over his hair and kiss the scar tracing the side of his scalp, he’ll just melt into you and attempt to follow you around all day, eventually draining your social and praise battery.

he does something nice? you call him a goodboy or goodman and he’s practically crushing you on the sofa that night, head burrowed comically in your chest like a pillow with his bushy tail wagging side to side. absolutely feeds off of your validation most of the time.

sometimes he’ll just walk up to you, lean down and place his head on your shoulder as if it’s a casual thing to do, you eventually begin to let him sleep in your room instead of your own if you’ve had a bad day.

“so annoying..”

“men suck.”

simon said, you sniffled, wiping your tears and engulfing your arms around the beast, listening to his low hums and embracing his gentle pecks to your cheek as if it were kisses from jesus himself. eventually, you begin to see him as more than a simple friend or companion.

it’s clear he feels the same, especially when he finds out you’re on your period and immediately tries to tug off your panties.. clearly, you had different ideas.

“no, simon—you’ll get grossed out.”

“instinct.”

“doesn’t mean you won’t get grossed out, it’s not like dogs.”

you have to coerce him not to mount you then and there, and to bugger off and do his own thing, his own thing is begging the tracking of your period on his phone.

when he finds out you’re ovulating? there’s no stopping this guy.

he’s hurriedly bending you over the kitchen table with his trousers bunched up around his thighs, cock springing free from his boxers.. wastes no time shoving himself inside, forcing the side of your face down onto the wood of the table, heavy balls slapping against the curve of your ass while you cunt enveloped him whole, lewd ‘plap’ sounds echoing throughout the newly cleaned kitchen..

bites down into your shoulder with his sharp canine, listening to your groan of complaint as your blade trickled crimson..your trembling digits rubbing quick circles on your aching clit—back arching into his free hand, which was now pushing you down further into the table, feeling you tighten around him..his tail wagging as he groaned out and spilled his cum inside of you, waiting for a few minutes before pulling himself out.

bedtime? folds you into a mating press, rutting into you like a rabid dog. (he, technically is, that rabid dog.) doesn’t stop till you’re squirting all over his abdomen and pleading for him that you’re already full enough.

“si—oh,i’m practicallymmmhh..practically overflowin’..”

“almost there..gonnafuckyoutillyourcarryin’..chhrriissttt-“

another load to add to your collection.

disappointed when he finds out you’re on birth control, not as disappointed when you find none in the container, just don’t check the bathroom..he didn’t have time to flush them yet.

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theobsessivesideblog · 3 months

Text

Hook Where it Hurts

Astarion finds himself Experiencing Emotions™ after a battle takes a turn for the worse.

Warnings: violence/injury, death, angst BUT happy ending I promise

—————————————————————

Your time in the Underdark had been relatively uneventful, all things considered. Sure there were Minotaurs, the occasional bulette, and exploding mushrooms, but there was something strangely beautiful about the alien landscape. The myconids were a friendly, if odd and slightly bloodthirsty bunch. Your conversation with Omeluum had proved enlightening, and trade with Blurg and Derryth had garnered you some useful items. Overall you couldn’t bring yourself to regret following Halsin’s advice to take the subterranean path to the Shadow-Cursed lands.

You set up camp at the Myconid colony, heading out at first light (or at least what you assumed was first light without the actual sun to confirm) to begin your trek towards the lake Sovereign Spaw had pointed you toward. An hour into your walk a glow appeared in the distance, lighting up the gloom of the cavernous landscape.

“I say, that can’t be… I do believe that may be a Sussur tree!” Gail exclaimed from behind you. “Powerful things, and rare, uniquely capable of completely nullifying magical forces, just fascinating!” he continued, eyes alight at the prospect of examining one up close.

“Sussur… that sounds familiar,” Karlach pondered.

“Ah! Right you are my fiery friend, there were instructions in the village about making a weapon with the bark! That would likely prove to be a powerful tool, we should certainly take a look.”

You gazed towards the tree, comparing its location with the heading you had gotten from Spaw. In all likelihood you would end up passing nearby, may as well go on purpose.

“Seems like it won’t be too much of a detour,” you announced, glancing around the group. “All in favor?”

“I’d never say no to a new kick-ass weapon,” Karlach grinned.

“That’s two for, Astarion?” you asked, looking over towards the rogue.

“I doubt our resident magician will shut up about it until we pay a visit, so fine. Let’s go traipsing through the monster-infested dark to look at the magic tree,” Astarion said with a dramatic eye roll.

“Anti-magic, technically, you see the—“ Gale’s chatter came to an abrupt halt as Astarion shot him a withering glance. “Right, yes, um. Shall we?”

———————

You had to admit, the Sussur tree was breathtaking. Far larger than you had initially realized, clearly ancient and powerful. You glanced over to see your companions’ reactions, breath catching as your eyes met Astarion’s. His pale skin was nearly pearlescent in the ethereal glow, the blue light making his red eyes darker than usual. He stared back, lips pulling into a smirk, and a shiver of desire ran down your spine as he began prowling towards you. You’d been playing this game of cat and mouse for days, taking turns taunting and tempting each other and you were curious to see who would break first.

A movement behind Astarion’s shoulder broke you out of your reverie, eyes catching on a monstrous creature slowly beginning to descend toward your troupe from the raised roots of the tree. Your face paled and you saw Astarion’s brow furrow in your periphery as he registered that he had lost your attention, turning to see what had distracted you. He stiffened as he caught sight of the beast, silently reaching to retrieve an arrow while you hissed quietly towards Gale and Karlach in an attempt to get their attention. Karlach looked your way and you subtly gestured towards the creature as it crept closer to the group, trying to hold back the urge to laugh as she reached out and smacked Gale’s arm, interrupting his lecture on the properties of the blossoms.

A few more wordless glances between the four of you had everyone subtly moving into position, preparing for what was sure to be a short battle. You glanced across the clearing, locking eyes with each of your companions before giving a tight nod as all of you attacked at once. The creature let out a shriek as it was barraged by both metal and magic, falling from its root bridge and hitting the ground below with a sickening crunch.

As the adrenaline faded from your system and you walked forward to observe the corpse you were nearly disappointed by how easily the beast had fallen. Not that you ever wanted to get your ass kicked but you had certainly expected that a monster with as many teeth and claws as this one would’ve put up a bit more of a fight. Karlach had turned away with a dissatisfied pout on her lips as she sheathed her weapon and Astarion had already started to wander off to investigate the rest of the cave as you gently nudged the cooling body on the ground with the tip of your boot. It was grotesque up close, a bird-like skeletal face filled with vicious teeth and enormous, razor-sharp hooks protruding from the end of each arm in place of hands. Beside you Gale was surveying the corpse with a strangely joyous expression.

“What a fascinating beast! We got quite lucky, they’re exceptional hunters, certainly wouldn’t want to run into one of these unprepared! They’re called Hook Horrors!” he announced gleefully to no one in particular.

“Did someone say something about whores?” Astarion called from across the cavern. Karlach snorted loudly as she and Gale began making their way over towards him and you rolled your eyes as your lips curled into a smile.

“Yes, Star, Gale has deeply insulted me,” you called back sarcastically. “You may need to come defend my honor! In fact, I–”

You cut off abruptly as a shriek pierced through the air, echoing off the hard rock. You all whipped toward the sound, weapons coming back to the ready as another hook horror climbed out from behind a patch of roots close to your three companions. As you watched it emerge you distractedly thought that it would be nice to go back to fighting above ground again. The way sound bounced around the rocks always made it sound like there was something behind you, and some paranoid instinct had you sending a cursory glance back over your shoulder to calm your nerves.

You froze in place, realizing your fears had been well founded as another hook horror silently emerged from around the corner of the cavern wall and leapt towards you. You barked out a startled curse and jumped back as it took a swing at you. The first horror may have fallen easily enough against the four of you, but your companions were locked in battle on the other side of the cavern and you were well aware that a one-on-one fight was one you wouldn’t win.

You kept your eyes locked on the creature as you began backing your way across the cave, hoping you could get within range of your party before it lost patience and struck. Based on the sounds the other monster was emitting it wouldn’t be a threat for much longer. You tightened your hold on your weapon, preparing to strike as you crept back another step, heart skipping as the rock you had stepped on shifted underneath your boot. You glanced down for a split second, trying to find your footing, a sense of dread filling you as you saw the hook horror jump into motion in your peripheral vision.

The hook drove into your side and you screamed. Pain the likes of which you’d never felt before tore through you as the hook horror yanked its arm across your abdomen, tearing through your stomach. You thought you heard someone shout, but they sounded a million miles away as you collapsed to your knees before the beast, your sight dimming around the edges. You vaguely registered a flash of blades and a wet thump as the hook horror’s head hit the ground before your vision was taken over by Astarion’s panicked visage. His hands gripped your face, feeling unnaturally warm against your cheeks as the world faded away.

“No no no, you can’t die, get UP damn you!” he shouted, desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood from the jagged cut across your midsection even as a small voice in the back of his mind told him it was too late. His shaking hands were covered in your blood but he had never found it less appealing, appetite long gone as he stared at your unnaturally pale face. “Please, my sweet, don’t do this to me,” he pleaded, vision clouding as his eyes filled with tears. He saw a red blur on his left as Karlach kneeled down beside him and he instinctively curled around you protectively, arms gently slipping around your back as he clutched your unmoving form against his chest.

“Astarion, we need–”

“Give me a healing potion. Now.” he ordered, voice dangerously low.

“It’s too late, Astarion. We need to get her body back–”

“Don’t say it like that,” he growled shakily. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to steady himself but choking on the scent of your blood in the air. “A resurrection scroll then,” he demanded, glaring in Gale’s direction.

“I… it won’t work. The tree–”

Astarion snarled out a curse and pressed his forehead against your frigid cheek, desperately trying to contain the sob attempting to claw its way out of him.

“We need to get her to camp, Astarion,” Karlach repeated gently, a small line of steam rising from where a tear had just rolled her cheek. “We need Shadowheart. I can carry–”

“No,” he murmured, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face with a trembling hand before adjusting one of his arms beneath your knees and standing with you cradled against him. “I’ve got her.”

———————

They were farther from camp than Astarion had realized, though perhaps it only felt that way because he had spent the entire walk staring at your lifeless face. He felt numb by the time they arrived, hardly hearing Karlach shout for Shadowheart as they passed the first of the tents. In the back of his mind he was aware that their other companions had gathered around them frantically asking questions, but the words didn’t register and he continued forward without acknowledging any of them. He walked to his tent in a trance, gingerly setting you down on his bedroll and kneeling at your side as his shaking hands tried to arrange your limp body into a more comfortable configuration.

“What in the hells happened?” Shadowheart snapped as Karlach pulled her roughly into the tent. He should answer, should try to explain, but he was frozen kneeling by your side, unable to pull his attention away from your unblinking eyes.

“She- she was-” Karlach bit back a sob, trying to catch her breath. “We got caught off guard. She was alone. She shouldn’t have been alone,” Karlach choked out, dissolving into tears. Shadowheart hurried to your side and knelt across from Astarion, immediately beginning to unfasten the straps on your armor and peeling the bloodied metal away from your skin.

“We need to get her cleaned up so I can see what I'm doing. Astarion, can you fetch me some water and clean washcloths?” she asked, continuing to remove your ruined clothing. When he remained unmoving she looked up to where he sat, his gaze unwaveringly focused on the brutal cut across your torso.

“Astarion,” she repeated softly, waiting as he slowly drug his gaze up to meet her eyes. “I swear to you I will do everything in my power to fix this, but I need your help.” She paused, waiting until Astarion gave a small nod of acknowledgement to rattle off the things she needed, her attention returning to your still form as Astarion rose and darted around his tent gathering what she had requested. He returned a heartbeat later, depositing the items at her side as she instructed him to wet a cloth and begin wiping away as much blood as he could.

She began chanting a prayer as he worked, hovering her hands over your sternum while he continued to gently clean your skin. Your blood had been a gift once, a delight. Now he shuddered as he attempted to ring out the bloodied rag in his hand, barely fighting the urge to retch as it dripped from his hands into the reddened bowl of water at his side.

A light sparked in Shadowheart’s hands, warm and radiant, and Astarion stopped his work, dropping the stained cloth and gently reaching out with trembling fingers to take hold of your hand. The light in her palms grew as she focused, directing its power towards you. A glowing beam split from the whole and snaked downwards, weaving through the jagged edges of your wound and drawing them together while the remainder of the light floated upward, hovering over your heart. She continued chanting, her eyes drifting closed in concentration as the glowing orb started to lower, dimming as it sunk through your skin and into your chest. The room grew silent as Shadowheart completed the incantation and lowered her hands, looking you over carefully.

“Did it… did it work?” Karlach whispered. “Is it supposed to take this long? Why isn’t she–”

Your chest rose as you gasped in air, the breath immediately turning to a cough at the uncomfortable stretch in your lungs. The air tasted of iron and magic and you frowned, trying to open your eyes to observe your surroundings but surprised to find your eyelids heavy and uncooperative. Cool fingers brushed against your face, smoothing away the furrow in your brow and you instinctively relaxed at the familiar touch.

“All is well, darling,” you heard Astarion whisper, voice sounding oddly constricted. “Rest now.”

You were still confused, still couldn't remember how you’d gotten here or what had happened. It felt as if something important had occurred, surely you shouldn’t sleep now. You heard the soft murmur of voices around you, a strained chuckle, a soft sniffle. You frowned again, struggling once more to open your eyes and earning an exasperated sigh from the vampire beside you.

“Please, pet,” he breathed, lips ghosting over your skin as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Just sleep.”

Your sense of unease fell away as Astarion began gently running his fingers through your hair. You felt him press another soft kiss against your forehead and relaxed into him, allowing yourself to drift off in his arms.

———————

The second Shadowheart had given the all clear Astarion had insisted everyone leave his tent. It was far too crowded and he wouldn’t have them waking you up when you were clearly in no condition to face their fussing. Even as he anchored himself in the sound of your steady heartbeat he still felt restless and off-balance, hands flitting over your sleeping form looking for something more to do.

He felt ridiculous. You were here in front of him, healed and whole, and that should be the end of it. So why in the hells were his hands still trembling as he ensured your blankets were tucked around you? Why did his chest ache uncomfortably every time he caught a leftover whiff of your blood in the air?

He huffed out a frustrated breath and sat on the ground beside you, staring at your sleeping face warily. This had never been part of his plan. He was never supposed to… care. Two centuries of distancing himself and building walls and somehow you had just waltzed right past his defenses and made yourself at home. He let out a defeated sigh and reached over, extracting your hand from the blankets to weave your fingers together with his. His gaze drifted to the steady rise and fall of your breathing and he found himself matching your pace, the tightly wound coil in his chest finally starting to loosen as you let out a soft snore.

Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he could deal with figuring out why that sound made him smile. Tomorrow he could obsess over how even just holding your hand made his whole body feel warmer. Tomorrow he could deal with the fact that in over 200 years of life he’d never before been as completely and utterly terrified as he had been today. For now, though, he would indulge. For tonight he would just let himself have this, whatever ‘this’ was. He closed his eyes and lifted your hand to his face, gently brushing his lips across your knuckles as he settled in to watch over you until morning.

———————

The passage of time in the Underdark still confused you. You woke to the same darkness you had fallen asleep in, groggily wondering what time it was and how long you had been in bed. Your mouth was dry and your head was pounding. Had you been drinking? That would certainly explain why you couldn’t remember how you had gotten here. As unappealing as getting up sounded, you were parched and you couldn’t stay here forever. You hoisted yourself up and froze as pain suddenly lanced through you, your vision flickering and arms giving out as you whimpered and fell back toward your pillow only to be caught by a pair of cold, pale arms.

“I wouldn’t recommend moving just yet, darling,” Astarion said, looking down at you with a worried frown on his face as he lowered you gently back to the bedroll. “Shadowheart did as much as she could last night but it took a lot out of her to bring you back. You’re not going anywhere until she’s gotten a chance to check on you again.” He leaned across you, determinedly avoiding meeting your eyes as he made sure your pillow was adequately fluffed. You saw a slight tremor run through him and heard a catch in his breath before he stood abruptly and walked across the tent, silently pouring you a glass of water from the pitcher in the corner.

“Bring me… back?” you questioned. Astarion stilled, jaw clenching as you took him in. His normally flawlessly tousled hair was tangled as if he had been running his hands through it and streaks of blood threaded through the white locks. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin looked even paler than normal, nearly translucent in the dim light. Your eyes flitted down to his wrinkled, untucked shirt and then around the tent, catching on the blood-soaked pile of clothes and armor to the side of the entrance and the red-stained towels laying by a bowl of water next to the bedroll. A dim memory flashed through your mind: a tree, an ambush, excruciating pain, and then… nothing.

“Oh.” you whispered, exhaling shakily as you felt your chest constrict, breaths turning quick and shallow as the air seemed to thin. Astarion was by your side in an instant, one hand smoothing back your hair while the other cupped your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“It’s alright, darling, just breathe. You’re safe now.” he murmured, continuing to stroke your hair as your breathing calmed. He let out a tremulous sigh and closed his eyes, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. “It’s alright,” he repeated even more quietly, sounding almost as if he were talking to himself, pressing against you for a moment before inhaling sharply and pulling away.

“Shit, you’re in pain, aren’t you?” he said, looking you over with worried eyes and immediately moving to stand. “I’ll get Shadowheart, she said she’d come by when she woke but surely she’s had enough sleep by now and–”

“Wait, Star, I… can you just stay here with me for a moment?” you asked in a small voice. Warmth spread through him at your request and he obliged immediately, lowering himself to sit at your side and gently taking your hand in his. You sat in companionable silence for a moment, studying his profile as he stared at your interlaced fingers. Up close the bags beneath his eyes were even more pronounced and you frowned, gently extricating your hand from his to touch his cheek. He leaned into your palm and placed a kiss against the inside of your wrist, eyes drifting closed as he basked in the warmth of your touch.

“Have you rested at all, Astarion?” you questioned. “You look exhausted.”

He huffed a laugh and cracked open an eye to look at your face.

“I’m not sure you want to get into comparing looks right now, darling. You’re even paler than me at the moment,” he chuckled, eyes closing once again as he leaned further into your touch, a teasing grin spread across his face. “I assure you, however you may think I look, you look ten times worse.”

“Hm, that’s not too bad I suppose,” you smirked. “Ten times worse than you is still at least three times better than the average person.”

Astartion barked out a surprised laugh and opened his eyes to look at you again, something in them softening as he saw your gentle smile.

“Whoever would’ve thought math could be so romantic,” he murmured, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss against your lips. He raised a hand to brush a stray hair off your forehead and his smile faded, brow furrowing as his gaze met yours with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “Please don’t scare me like that again, my dear,” he breathed. “I’m- I don’t-” he sighed in frustration at the mess of emotions in his chest, hardly able to remember the last time his words had failed him so completely.

“Don’t want to deal with this group of weirdos all by yourself?” you teased gently. He grinned back at you, gratitude in his eyes for not pushing him to collect his thoughts just yet.

“Precisely that,” he chuckled, the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Well I’m not going anywhere,” you said, smiling softly at him. “Also I wasn’t kidding before, you look like shit. You really should get some rest.”

“Hm,” Astarion hummed mischievously, narrowing his eyes. “I would, but you see someone went and bled all over my bedroll. Adept though I may be at washing out blood stains it’s a rather thick fabric, it will take a while to dry back out. I may need to stay with… someone… for a day or two. Or three. Maybe more,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow suggestively as you huffed out a laugh.

“You’re incorrigible,” you replied, grinning up at him and rolling your eyes. “I suppose it does seem that I’ve made rather a mess of your tent though…”

“You certainly have,” he murmured, shifting to hover over you, slowly kissing his way along your jaw.

“And it would only be fair to let you bunk with the cleanest person in camp…”

“Mmhmm…” he hummed, kissing closer and closer to your lips.

“And I’m sure Gale wouldn’t mind letting you crash with him–”

“Excuse me??” he crowed, pulling back indignantly as you burst out laughing below him. He scowled playfully and shook his head at you in feigned displeasure. “You wicked little thing,” he chuckled, leaning back down and finally pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, unhurried kiss. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Whatever it is,” you smirked, pulling him back to you for another kiss, “I'm sure I'll like it.”

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #bg3 #bg3 astarion

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ellecdc · 27 days

Note

I don’t know their ship name! Do they have a ship name? Anywayyy, I was thinking long and hard about this, I want it to be 🤌🏻

So I was thinking, Remus x James x reader, possibly hyper Jamie and reader, and Remus is chasing after them

or maybe the most beautiful hurt/comfort (because who wants straight angst?) where James is upset because he feels like he’s too much sometimes (even though he’s my perfect baby Angel) and it’s just reader and Remus comforting him

(Fem!reader if that’s ok) (also reader should have a cat named Birdie, is it because I want Birdie content? Yes. Do I live laugh love Birdie? Also yes.)

kisses 😘

okay, I love you, thank you for this request. New rule: NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO HURT OUR SWEET SWEET JAMIES FEELINGS EVER AGAIN 😭😭😭😭😭😭 also I couldn't figure out how to incorporate Birdie but I have another request about a reader with a cat so you'll be able to see her there ;)

poly!moonchaser x fem!reader who is in Slytherin

CW: James cries and it's horrible and Marlene should be sent to Azkaban for this.

James was feeling pretty good about Gryffindor’s odds this year for the House Cup. He’d been working his team a little harder than usual, but he was certain the extra effort would pay off this weekend in their game against Ravenclaw. He wasn’t on the quidditch pitch to make friends; he was there to win.

Off the pitch, however?

Off the pitch he loved his friends.

Which was why he’d told everyone to hit the showers whilst he cleaned up the pitch for Madame Hooch.

After James had stored the last of the brooms and quidditch balls in the equipment locker, he began to head past the Beasts classroom for the castle.

He saw Marlene leaning against one of the posts of the building, and James began making his way over to catch up with her but thought better of it once he saw Dorcas Meadows sitting on a table in front of her. He smiled to himself at the thought of his friend’s happiness and took the path on the opposite side of the building in order to give them some privacy.

“Potter’s not working you lot too hard, is he? You’re actually making Slytherin sweat this year.” Dorcas taunted, earning her a chuckle from her girlfriend.

“Ha ha.” Marlene deadpanned before she let out a sigh. “He’s working us like dogs. I know he loves quidditch, but Godric.”

James knew he was pretty competitive, but he had a job to do as the coach, and like Dorcas said – it was paying off.

“He can be a lot.” Dorcas assuaged.

Marlene scoffed dramatically. “Sirius is a lot; James is too much. Honestly, I don’t know how Remus and Y/N keep up with him; he’s exhausting.”

James’ ears filled with cotton as his steps faltered and his heart sunk.

Is this really how his friends thought of him; was he exhausting? Too much?

James knew he could be a lot sometimes; a lot of energy, a lot of fun, a lot of love, a lot of mischief, a lot of noise...

But was he too much?

He loved you and Remus more than anything; he never knew it was possible to love two people so much.

Remus: the moon to his sun, his safe space, his level head, the cool side of his pillow.

And you: his sweet girl, his biggest supporter, his confidante, the quiet in the chaos.

And what was he, then? What was James?

He was loud, he was chaos, he was constant.

Maybe he was too much...

He’d spent five years with his sights set in the wrong direction before he realized he had everything he could ever want in the two of you, and by some fucking miracle, he’d managed to snag the two most wonderful people in all of Hogwarts, perhaps all of the UK; neigh, the world.

Was he losing the two of you? Was he slowly pushing you guys away? Exhausting you? Were you two going to grow tired of James?

He couldn’t lose you guys; he couldn’t let that happen.

He wouldn’t let that happen.

You and Remus had been sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall when Sirius came back from practice.

“Where’s Prongs?” Remus asked quickly, earning him a scowl from his long-haired friend.

“Gee, hello to you too, Moony.”

Remus’ sigh was accompanied by an eyeroll as he corrected himself. “Hello, Sirius. How was practice? Where’s our boyfriend?”

Sirius adorned a cheeky smile as he began loading up his plate. “Hi Remus, Y/N. Lovely evening we’re having. Practice went well; James is working us hard, but I think the extra work is paying off. We’re shoo-ins for the House Cup this year and-”

“Sirius!”

“Circe’s tits, Moons, is it almost your time of your month?”

He was answered with a dinner roll being thrown at his head.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He grumbled. “Prongs is tidying up the field, told us all to hit the showers and head to dinner.”

“Black, you’re a dog.” You grumbled, earning you a boisterous laugh from the dog-like-man himself.

“You have no idea dollface.”

You groaned. “I can’t believe you left our poor, sweet boy cleaning up after you tossers out there all by himself. It’s getting dark.” You whined, looking to the windows.

“He’s far too nice to you lot.” Remus agreed, starting a plate for James pre-emptively.

You liked that about Remus. You loved that about Remus; predicting his loved ones needs, always one step ahead the rest of you.

You perked up when you saw the familiar head of hair make his way into the Great Hall, but had an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach when you noticed his demeanour.

“Hey bubs.” Remus greeted, seemingly unawares of James’ dour mood. James smiled kindly at Remus, but you noticed the smile never reached his eyes.

You hated it.

“How was practice?” You asked quickly, earning you a scoff from Sirius.

“What? Don’t trust my word for it?”

“Sod off, Black.”

James itched the back of his neck and avoided eye contact. “It, erm, it went well, I think. It went well, right Pads?”

Sirius looked inquisitively at his friend but nodded nonetheless. “Yeah mate, I think we’re definitely going to see a difference with the extra drills. Fenwick and I were just talking about it.”

“Fenwick? What’d he say? He thought the practice went well?” James asked eagerly.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a bemused glance as you watched James; he seemed to notice the silent conversation going on between his friend and his boyfriend and curled in on himself.

“Sorry.” He muttered quietly, poking at his plate with his fork.

“No worries Prongs. Fenwick said he was tired, but the good kind. He’s looking forward to the match this weekend.” Sirius said carefully. James hummed but that was the extent of the conversation.

“Everything okay, James?” Remus asked cautiously as Marlene and Dorcas sat a few seats down. James lifted his head and nodded quickly, offering a quiet “yeah.”

“What’s the matter?” You asked quietly, causing James’ eyebrows to furrow.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m not that hungry actually, I think I’m going to head upstairs.”

He didn’t give you any time to argue as he stood from his full plate and left the Great Hall.

You went to stand to go after him, but Remus grabbed your sleeve.

“You should eat, dove. No sense in both of you going without.”

“But-”

“We’ll bring him his plate in a little; let him take a minute to himself.” He offered, and though Remus sounded awfully reasonable, you didn’t like the idea one bit.

In the perhaps 45 minutes you and Remus spent in the Great Hall, James had already done his bedtime routine and had the curtains to his fourposter bed drawn shut with what sounded like a silencing charm cast around it.

You let out a sigh and moved towards Remus’ bed.

“It’s probably just an off day, dovey. He rarely has them; we can grant him this one, can’t we?” Remus lamented.

It didn’t feel like an off day, though. Not to you.

He’d been just fine when you bid him farewell before practice; he’d been talking your ear off about all the new drills he prepared and the extra practices he booked. He’d been your enthusiastic, sunny boy just a mere few hours ago, and now he was...well...this.

Had you done something? Had you not been enthusiastic enough about his stories? Had you said something to offend him? Maybe he didn’t want you here; maybe he wanted to spend tonight with Remus – he’s known him longer, maybe he’d be talking to Remus if you weren’t here right now.

“I can hear your brain in overdrive, dove. What’s going on inside that head of yours?”

“Maybe I should go to my own dorm tonight?” You asked shyly, earning you an unimpressed look from Remus as he pulled his sleep shirt over his head.

“Fat chance I’m sending you down to the dungeons. I’ve already lost one cuddle partner.” His lip jut out comically at the end of the sentence and you felt some of the tension leave your body.

“Okay, big baby.” You acquiesced with faux resentment, laying back on Remus’ bed and welcoming him into your embrace.

“We’ll fix it tomorrow, yeah?” Remus said into your neck. “He’ll feel better in the morning.”

Except James did not feel better in the morning and now you were spiralling.

He’d woken up early to go for his run but didn’t ask if you wanted to join him (he usually woke you up as he extricated himself from the bed and would always ask if you felt like joining him. You’ve never said yes, but he always asked you anyway).

He changed quietly and sat at the desk to do some schoolwork. You woke up and pressed a kiss to his cheek on your way to the washroom, which earned you little more than half a smile and a quiet “morning”.

You couldn’t take it anymore; the nerves were eating you alive, and they were only made worse when Remus woke up and James was just as cold with him.

“Jamie, have I done something?” You blurted, causing both boys to look at you in horror.

“What?” He asked quietly.

“I’m sorry if I’ve done or said something to offend you. I know I can be harsh sometimes and I know that I’m not often as kind as the two of you; certainly not as nice as you, Jamie. But I often think you guys have worn off on me a bit and I’m a little less Slytherin-y and-”

But Remus cut you off as you started to ramble. “Whoa, dove. Take a breath, yeah? You’re alright.” He said gently, placing his hand on your shoulder and gently rubbing his thumb along your collar bone.

“I’m really sorry, Jamie.” You said again, feeling your eyes well with tears.

James' eyes mirrored yours as he looked at you in horror. “No, angel. No! You’re perfect, I swear!” He said, tears finally betraying his inner turmoil.

“What has you so upset then, Jamie?” Remus asked gently, which caused whatever dam James had set up behind his eyes to fully burst.

“It’s not you guys, honest!” He cried miserably.

You felt all the blood drain from your face at the sight; you’d never seen James this upset before.

“Oh, Jamie.” Remus cooed in an exhale moving towards him, obviously just as distressed at James’ upset as you were.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been exhausting you lately. I don’t mean to be too much.” James whimpered between sobs. Your hands twitched as you stood uselessly, staring at Remus cradling James’ broad frame and gently rocking him back-and-forth, rubbing broad strokes up and down his back.

“Why...why would you say that, Jamie? I’ve never found you exhausting. ‘Too much’?” You asked incredulously, feeling sort of nauseous at the insinuation that you could ever grow tired of the effervescence that was James Potter.

“I overheard people talking about me.” He admitted shyly from the crook of Remus’ neck. Remus’ movements stuttered before he quickly resumed his ministrations.

“Who?” You said simply, hands balling into fists at your sides.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it doesn’t.” You argued.

“Easy, dove.” Remus placated, pressing a gentle kiss into James’ hair. “I don’t need to know who it was, because they are so far off from the truth.”

“Can’t be too far off, I’ve known her my whole life.” James muttered.

“McKinnon?” You asked with a scoff. You were answered by James’ silence.

“Jamie.” You said sternly, stepping towards your boyfriends and causing James to look up at you. “You have been nothing but pure joy since the moment I met you, and any moment I get to spend by your side is an absolute honour; do you understand me?”

James sighed and tried to turn back into Remus’ shoulder, but you gently grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you.

“I love you so unbelievably much, I worry about my sanity sometimes. One of the best things about me is getting to love you, and having convinced you to love me back. Okay?”

“Okay.” He whispered back, offering you a soft smile.

“Yeah?”

James chuckled sadly and took your hand in his. “I love you, Y/N.”

“That makes me the luckiest girl in the world.” You promised him.

Remus continued rubbing James’ back and whispering sweet nothings into his ear as you got into uniform.

“You okay, Rem? I’ll catch up with you guys later?” You asked him quietly. Remus nodded at you and accepted a chaste kiss to his lips.

You pressed a kiss to the top of James' head, reminding him again that you love him and you’d see him later before heading out in search of the person on your radar.

Sirius had gotten up today to find James already gone on his morning run and you and Moony still asleep in bed, so he decided to take the initiative and organise the supplies for the Marauder’s next prank.

“Oi, Black.” Sirius heard, causing him to pause in his steps down the corridor.

“Y/N, we’ve known each other since we were in nappies; I’m pretty sure we were engaged to be wed at one point. I think you can go ahead and call me Sirius.”

Your eyebrows furrowed almost comically as you looked him up and down once, seemingly almost disgusted at the thought of calling him by his given name.

“Right, I will not be doing that. Listen, you’re friends with McKinnon, yeah?” You redirected, falling into step with him as he carried on towards the potions supply closet.

“Marlene? Yeah.”

“‘Kay, deal with her then, because it won’t be pretty if I have to.” You said darkly, causing Sirius to pause again and grab you by your elbow.

“Whoa there; what are you on about?”

You turned towards him with darkened eyes, quite possibly the most like your parents he’d ever seen you. “She upset James.” You said simply.

Sirius scoffed. “Please. James doesn’t get upset. She probably just cheered for his rival team at the World Cup or something.”

“Black. My sweet, lovely, wonderful boyfriend is upstairs crying right now because he was told he was too much and exhausting.” You said severely, causing Sirius’ heart to stutter.

His heart picked back up in double time when he noticed your eyes fill with tears.

“And if McKinnon is left to me, it won’t be pretty.” You concluded, sniffing quickly and stuffing your emotions back down deep into your stomach like Sirius knew you’d been raised to do.

“Crying?” Sirius asked breathlessly.

“Sobbing.” You corrected.

Well.

Well, this just wouldn’t do.

Turns out, Sirius was going to get detention for hitting a girl today.

“Oi! McKinnon!” Sirius called out when he spotted Marlene sat under a tree on the Hogwarts grounds. “Take your earrings out, you and I are fighting.” He called as he got closer, pulling his earrings own out pre-emptively.

Marlene scoffed. “Have you taken one too many bludgers to the head there, Black?”

“What’d you say to James?” He carried on.

“Potter?”

“Sod off, McKinnon. What’d you say?”

“I haven’t spoken to him since we all left practice yesterday!” She argued.

“Well you said something, seeing as he’s now apologising to his boyfriend and girlfriend for being ‘exhausting’.”

Sirius watched understanding pass over Marlene’s face as she sighed.

“Oh for- …he wasn’t meant to hear.”

“Make it a habit of talking poorly about your friends behind their back?” Sirius accused.

“Take it easy, Sirius… she didn’t mean it.” Dorcas interjected, causing Sirius’ stormy glare to look her way.

“Then why’d she say it, huh Meadows? Are you calling her a liar then?”

“I was just tired and sore after practice yesterday, Sirius…” Marlene mumbled.

But Sirius didn’t care; he didn’t want excuses. He wanted everyone to see the James that he saw:

James, who had so much love to give.

James, who gave everything he did 110%.

James, who took care of everyone around him like his life depended on it.

James, who pushed his team to victory because he knew they were capable.

James, who knew he was pushing his team hard so let them all leave early whilst he cleaned up after them.

James, who brought out the best in everyone around him.

James, who offered him a home when he had nowhere to go.

James, who was everyone's safety, smile, sanctuary.

“Maybe if you didn’t spend so much of your life finding flaws in everyone else, Marlene, you’d have a little more time to work on your own. I suggest starting with your poor fucking attitude.” He shot at her, feeling the generations of vile, vicious Black’s creep into his psyche. “Perhaps then you’d manage to be even a quarter as loved as James is.”

“Was that really necessary, Black?” Meadows barked angrily. Sirius scoffed in return.

“No more necessary than what she said about James. No one upsets Prongs like that, you hear me? So tell your girl to watch her fuckin’ mouth.”

And he stormed back up to the castle.

Remus was understandably distressed.

If having his usual bright, sunny boy so down and turned in on himself wasn’t bad enough, you seemed to be equally if not more distressed on his behalf.

He’d been sort of nervous when you took off this morning, but when Remus saw Marlene in one piece in Charms later in the day, he knew you hadn’t done any (permanent) damage.

James was glued to your and Remus’ sides for the remainder of the day, and you were both more than happy to fawn over him as much as he needed. His mood didn’t seem to improve for your efforts, however.

The three of you were eating dinner with Sirius who was carrying most of the conversation on your behalves, which you and Remus (and likely James) appreciated, when Barty approached the Gryffindor table.

“Hey Y/N, I just had the most brilliant i- whoa, wait, whoa, what the fuck?” He cut himself off, looking to the group in horror.

“What’s up, junior?” You asked calmly, feeling particularly defensive of your boyfriend and keeping an eye on James in your periphery.

“What happened to Potter? What’s going on?” He asked, sounding particularly disturbed causing Remus’ brows to furrow bemusedly.

No one seemed to have a good answer; Sirius and Remus exchanging confused glances, James lowering his head in shame, and you rolling your eyes at your friend's dramatics.

“Who did this?” He asked then, voice taking on a shrill quality. “Y/N? Did you do this?” He demanded, gesturing to James.

“I did not do this!” You shouted back.

“Okay well this is bad!”

“I know it’s bad!”

“No, this is bad, bad. This is like… this is. I have no words. Y/N, fix it, fix it right now.” Barty insisted, roughly jostling your shoulder as if you were simply standing here negligently as your boyfriend suffered.

Remus, James, and Sirius all watched in abject fascination and horror.

“Who did this, Potter?” Barty asked quietly, turning his attention to James when he felt he wasn’t getting answers from you. “Give me names; who disturbed the delicate balance of the universe?”

James’ eyebrows were in his hair as he looked between you and Barty.

“Oh gods,” Barty breathed. “It’s worse than I though.”

Barty shoved his hand into his robe pocket and pulled out a lolly. “You like candy, Potter? Here.” He said as he threw the lolly at him without waiting for a response. “I have more, one sec.”

With that, Barty turned his pocket inside out and piled what had to be almost thirty lollipops in front of James.

“Why do you have so many lollies, Junior?” Sirius asked, reaching over to grab one from the pile which earned him a squeal and a harsh smack on the wrist from Barty.

“None of your sodding business, Black.”

Remus delighted in hearing a slight chuckle under James' breath.

“Why do you have so many lollies?” Remus asked instead, knowing Barty was slightly less volatile with him than with Sirius.

“I was trying to quit smoking. Now I’m just addicted to sugar and cigarettes. Also, Y/N likes them.” He said, producing one from your pocket with a flourish to hand it to you.

“M’lady.” He said with a bow before resuming his piling of more lollies in front of James.

“I think that’s enough lollies, Junior.” Sirius suggested, earning him a scowl.

“The world is fucking topsy-turvey right now, Black! I don’t see you doing anything to correct it! Absolute tosser, thinking I can just go about my day when everything is wrong.” Barty was mostly muttering to himself at this point as he pulled his bookbag over his shoulder and started discarding various things onto the table.

“Why are you all just sitting there? Do something, for the love of Salazar!” He shrieked. “Fix this Y/N! Fix it now; I’m running out of candy!”

And with this, James dissolved into a fit of laughter, causing Barty to pause and whip his head to face him.

Remus wasn’t always Barty’s biggest fan, but he knew that you cared for him and more importantly, he cared for you, and right now Remus could kiss the sod right on the mouth for managing to bring a smile to James' face.

“Is this a fucking joke to you, Potter?” Barty asked incredulously, causing James to laugh harder and even encouraging a laugh from you. Barty’s face softened immediately at the sound and turned to beam at you.

“There!” He proclaimed then. “All better!”

And with that, Barty headed towards the entrance of the Great Hall.

“You’re welcome everyone! I just corrected a major blip in the universe; but this is the last time I do it for free!”

James began to catch his breath and wipe away tears from under his eyes.

“See?” You said, reaching across to gently shake James’ wrist. James caught your hand before you could pull it away from him. “Even Barty likes you just the way you are. And he hates Gryffindors.”

James barked another laugh at that and let out a steadying breath.

“Not as much as we do, though.” Remus pressed, resting his forehead against James’ temple as he pulled him closer into his side.

“Thank you guys.” James admitted quietly, squeezing your hand that he still held captive over the table.

“There’s nothing to thank us for, bubs.” You insisted, causing Sirius to snort.

“Yeah. These two did fuck all; you should be thanking Junior.”

You all started laughing again, distributing lollies to the younger students sitting around you.

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radiance1 · 4 months

Text

"I have lived for thousands of years, seen the rise and fall of civilizations both known and unknown to man. I have tasted the old magics, became one with and conquered the eldest flame where many have failed and been reduced to dust." The phoenix stood tall, flame leaking from its form and dancing along the ground. Its eyes were narrowed, various emotions dancing within and all were none too pleased.

"I have grasped my power through the blood of the fallen, from humble ghost to staggering False God. And you believe that I, wielder of the black flame and one who stands above an uncountable number of ghosts would EVER." The phoenix paused, letting the weight of its words sink as the temperature of the room reached all new levels of heat. Underneath his suit, Batman could feel himself sweating up a storm, he squashed down the urge to take off his suit and instead stuck close to the pillar hiding him from sight before slowly moving along the shadows.

"Ever, Allow myself to be bested by a mere mortal, the last of his race and a demi-goddess!?" The great beast hissed out the words, as if the mere implication alone was a slight against him as he waved wing. A tsunami of black fire spilled forth, forcing the separation of Superman and Wonder Woman as they both sought refuge from the attack. "I have felled far more despicable foes than you three, and you will all kneel before me!" The great bird raised itself to the sky, flapping its wings and taking off to the sky.

The roof of the warehouse melted far before the phoenix could reach it, and its path was uninhibited as it took the sky. With it's back to the sky it reached its wings back, condensing magical fire before slamming them downwards with a great amount of force.

Black fire rained down on those below, Superman quickly located and held onto Batman. Using his superior agility to keep both from harm as Wonder Woman dashed from pillar to pillar. After the rain of fire ended the three met up once more with none to many injuries.

Superman had minor burns, a consequence of taking damage and Batman's place, and Wonder Woman wasn't any worse for wear either, in fact, she was better off than her ally. Batman stepped down to the ground and stared up at the Duke of the Ghost Zone with narrowed eyes.

===

Lol you actually thought I was going to finish this? Hah! No. Anyways, that phoenix is Vlad, why is he fighting the Justice League? I don't know.

Make it enough.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover

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bettyfrommars · 3 months

Text

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

masterlist playlist

Part 2: The Hideout

You follow Robin over the resort property line to a place where guests are forbidden and get a glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes.

word count: 3.6k

My blog is 18+ONLY, mature themes, violence, alcohol consumption, eventual smut, fighting, mention of blood, reader is called Bird as a nickname, reader plays the cello. Reader is 21, Eddie is late 20's.

Songs for this chapter: Animal (fuck like a beast)//W.A.S.P. No one like you//Scorpions Mental Health (bang your head)//Quiet Riot Wasted Years//Iron Maiden

a/n: it has been so much fun to pull this out of the rubble and jump back into this world for a rewrite, I hope you enjoy. To my I'm on Fire peeps, there will be a scene in this chapter that feels very similar to something that happened in IOF, and that's because I originally stole it from this fic, thinking I'd never post it, lmao. Thought about changing it, but it's just too perfect. Plus, there will always be a hint of biker Eddie in all of my Eddies.

Sticking close behind Robin, you crossed the arc of a walking bridge over a creek and disappeared on a worn path through the trees. It was only then that you could finally make out the building where the loud music was coming from.

It had corrugated metal sides and roof, like a structure you might see on a farm that housed large equipment. There was a picnic table out front where a few people were seated, and the shell of a vintage automobile with bullet holes in it sat in the weeds.

A little more than a city block away was a modest cabin made from actual logs with an old truck, a van, and a motorcycle parked out front.

“Who lives there?” You nudged Robin.

She stopped to see where you were looking first, and then, “oh yeah, that’s Wayne’s place. The head maintenance guy. This is his too,” she gestured to the metal building where the music and shouts were coming from. “Both him and his nephew Eddie. Have you met Eddie?”

You absolutely knew who he was, but didn’t want to come off as a stalker, so you shook your head.

The large sliding door entrance to the building was open about a foot, letting out wafts of smoke and a hazy, golden light. From over Robin’s shoulder, you could see quite a few bodies moving around in there, and just then came the sound of a glass breaking.

“Ready?” She smiled back at you, struggling to hold everything in her arms as she reached for the handle to slide the door open the rest of the way.

“Let me?” You lurched forward.

“I got it,” she insisted, fumbling one of the guitars before catching it again with a gasp of relief.

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting to see when she eased the door open the rest of the way, but a topless woman dancing on a table top was not one of them.

Her hair was bleached blonde, frizzy and teased around her face. She was tan with a prominent bikini line over her pert breasts, and it looked like she’d just pulled the top of her leopard print spandex dress down to give a little show.

The song Animal (Fuck like a beast) by W.A.S.P. was blaring and the guys around the table cheered while the woman flipped her hair and worked her hips in a circle. You were sure you recognized her as one of the waitresses from earlier that night.

Metalheads of all kinds were crowded together, mingling, and you feared that you stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. Some were in leather; some wore jean vests with pins and patches all over them. A handful had long hair that they must’ve tied back or wore under hats while they worked at the resort, but a few of them, like Steve, kept theirs short and tidy, for the most part. Overhead string lights swayed from high wooden beams, and a chandelier that looked like it was made out of wrenches. An old, pea green Kelvinator refrigerator and a small kitchenette was to your left, as if someone had lived there at one point, and two couches sat against the wall that were mismatched and worn.

Most of the crowd of people seemed to be lingering together in the middle, standing there as if waiting for something. Taking shots, smoking blunts, and making out with each other, blocking you from seeing beyond them.

Robin signaled to follow her, and you were hesitant to start moving through the masses, holding the guitar case flush to your body, feeling like it was something to hide behind. You noticed posters on the walls for bands like Judas Priest and Metallica, and on the concrete floor you saw smudges from white chalk markings, dark splotches the color of dried blood, but that was ridiculous.

You pushed between a girl with a blue mohawk and a guy with a shaved head that was covered in tattoos in a hurry to keep up with your escort, and the two shot you a hard glare. When you could finally see the far wall, there was an oval, threadbare carpet in the corner with a drum kit set up, three microphones, two amps, and some other equipment that suggested live music would soon be happening.

“This is where they practice!” Robin shouted over the music, directing you where to put Eddie guitar down. “We call it The Hideout.”

“'Where who practices?’ You set Eddie’s baby near the wall where she told you to.

“Eddie and Chrissy’s band,” she motioned for you to stand over at the wall with her.

“Oh,” you turned to look at the instruments again, heart flopping a little at the idea he would show up at any moment. “They're playing tonight?”

There was a commotion up ahead and you both turned to look. "Later maybe! The fights are tonight,” again, yelling over the growl of the music. Now the song was No One Like You by Scorpions, and it sounded like people were cheering at someone who’d just come through the door.

“Fights?” You leaned in to get more information when everyone started pushing back to make room for whatever was about to happen. You remembered that one of the guys on the porch earlier that day with Chrissy and Steve had a black eye, and you’d noticed another worker at the resort who had a busted lip, but you hadn’t paused to think that maybe they were somehow connected.

It was then that you saw Eddie appear from out of the sea of bodies, and took a sharp intake of breath, holding it in, afraid to let it out for fear you might whimper.

He was so beautiful, it made you dizzy. You stood up straight, adjusting yourself, covertly checking to make sure you weren’t perspiring too badly.

He was wearing the tux he’d had on for the show earlier, but the tie and cummerbund were both gone, and his white shirt was unbuttoned almost to his stomach. You caught a glimpse of tattoos on his chest, and a necklace of some sort. Someone handed him a beer and he threw back a generous gulp.

“There’s going to be boxing? Here? Tonight?” You were trying to act casual and not stare at him the whole time, but it was hard to tear your attention away.

“Nothing professional,” she scoffed, folding her arms over her chest, putting her shoulder blades against the wall. “Just your average bare knuckle street fighting, basically. The guys were doing it to blow off steam, but then some others got involved and people started placing bets, so a whole thing started.”

Eddie unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and took it off, passing it to someone in the crowd. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his lean muscles under the scattered ink. He kept his hair tied back and started wrapping white tape around one of his hands while Steve said something in his ear.

“How do they choose who fights who?” You were invested now, wringing Robin out for any information she had.

“I don’t know how they figure it out, but the new guys usually fight each other, and then a winner challenges Eddie or Steve or Alex,” she pushed off the wall to get a better look at the center of the room. “But it looks like Eddie is up first.” And then with a smirk she added, “all of the new hotshots at the resort think they can beat Eddie.”

“Can they?” Your voice cracked, eyes locked on the scene. A guy shorter than Eddie but muscular in a football player type of way, was also shirtless in the circle now, with taped hands and wearing a pair of sweats with the name of a university down the leg. The guy was hopping from foot to foot to keep himself hyped up, punching the air in front of him.

“No one beats Eddie,” there was pride in her voice. “Looks like the guy he’s fighting tonight is Lance, one of the new ski instructors. Totally full of himself.”

Steve was wearing a white wife beater and jeans, and he raked a hand through his mop of hair just before pointing in your direction. Eddie’s gaze followed the line of his finger directly to your stunned face, and then it lingered there.

He seemed to contemplate, wetting his lips, and then he nodded to Steve and was on his way over.

He didn’t have to push people out of the way because they were all quick to part to make room for him. It wasn’t long before he was standing right in front of you. You tried not to let your gaze linger on the full curve of his slightly chapped lips, or the way his wavy bangs framed his cherrywood eyes. On closer inspection, you could see that the necklace he wore was a ball chain with a guitar pick hanging from it.

Robin opened her mouth to say something, possibly introduce you, but Eddie cut her off.

“What the hell are you doing here, Princess?” His voice was low with an edge of irritation. He pulled the chunky metal rings off his fingers one by one as he spoke.

Robin cleared her throat, stepping forward. “She’s with me,” she stuttered a bit nervously, knowing full well she shouldn’t have brought you there. “She came with me, she’s cool.”

Eddie collected all of the rings in his fist and kept staring at you as if he wanted to hear it from your mouth, not Robin’s.

Your brain short-circuited for a second and you forgot how to form words when he was so close you could see the detail of the dragon tattoo on his chest. But then, finally, it came to you:

“I-I carried your baby.”

The second it slipped out, you knew how stupid it sounded.

Unblinking, he gave his rings to Robin, and then he was gone.

You stared at the space where he no longer stood, flushed with embarrassment.

“I carried your baby?” You repeated in a whisper, covering your face with your hands.

Someone turned the music down so that Steve’s voice could be heard, and he waved his arms in the air to get everyone’s attention.

“I don’t have to explain the rules to you, because there are none,” his announcement was met with screams and cheers. Robin tugged at your arm, signaling for the two of you to get a bit closer to the action. “First one to hit the ground for whatever reason is the loser. Just fists, no blades or other stupid tricks.”

At one side of the circle of bodies, Lance the ski instructor was practicing some tight punches, and at the other end, Eddie rolled his neck while Chrissy finished taping the knuckles of his other hand. It was then that the chalk and the stains on the concrete you saw earlier made sense.

“You two ready?” Steve put his arm up between them, waiting for their nods, and then, at their signal, he chopped his hand down between them as if he were slicing the air.

Lance was hopping from foot to foot, trying his best to look like some fancy footwork he saw in a Rocky movie, while Eddie walked casually, giving the guy a hooded, bored stare.

Eddie could read Lance like a book. A fight was a lot more than just a mindless throwing of hands, there was a mental prowess and skill needed that a lot of the punks busing in from suburbia did not have. Street smarts was one thing, and Eddie surely had that, but he’d been fighting bullies off since he was a kid, and Wayne taught him to fight like it was a game of chess.

Eddie could tell where Lance was going to go a second before he made the move. He saw the guy was amped up, letting his emotions fight for him, and that was only one of his first mistakes.

Lance charged at him and swung, but Eddie was already steps away; relaxed and agile, holding his guard up. The ski instructor came at him aggressively, again and again, until Eddie pushed him, making his opponent stumble back.

Keeping his form, Eddie caught you standing there out of the corner of his eye.

…what were you doing there at the Hideout?

He let himself ponder that question for too long and Lance was on him again, aiming a left jab to his ribs, and Eddie absorbed the blow with a grunt, arching to the side.

You were not supposed to be there. What was Robin thinking?

Mostly, Brenner and Joyce stayed out of their business, as long as whatever they did was off resort property, but if they found out one of the guests was somehow involved, there would be hell to pay.

Lance charged again and Eddie dodged, angry at himself for not being able to focus .

“C’mon Lance, stomp that freak,” someone yelled from the crowd.

And that was all it took

For Eddie to get tired of dragging it out for betting purposes.

Lance charged forward with a cry and Eddie socked an uppercut into his unsuspecting jaw.

The surfer boy went down

Hard.

Saliva and blood flew from his mouth as he flailed back, arms going ragdoll.

It felt like it happened in slow motion but soon enough, Lance was splayed out like a starfish on the concrete floor.

“Goodnight sweet prince,” Steve said sarcastically as he collected bets over the ski instructor’s limp body.

Robin cheered with her hands over her head, and you gave a few slow claps, your brain barely able to register where you were or what you were seeing.

“You want a beer?” She asked as you watched Lance numbly get to his feet with the help of two friends and attempt to shake it off.

Robin motioned for you to follow her around to the refrigerator which was stocked from top to bottom with nothing but beer cans. She handed you one and then went to lean against the side of the appliance, cracking open the tab with a hiss.

With your back to the crowd, you prepared to follow suit, listening to Steve introduce two more fighters.

But then there was someone at your side,

“Not like that,” a voice said.

Eddie had come up behind you, wearing his white shirt unbuttoned, skin still glistening with sweat. Mental Health (Bang Your Head) by Quiet Riot came over the speakers, eliciting a wave of yelps and screams from the group.

“Wait,” he put his hand on top of yours to keep you from opening your beer while he motioned for another guy to toss him one. You turned to seek comfort or guidance from Robin, but she was absorbed in conversation with a girl in a platinum pixie cut who’d just walked up.

“Like this,” he brushed his bangs to the side, and winked as he fished a ring of keys out of his pocket. He used the serrated metal edge of one to punch a hole at the bottom of the can.

It was the wink that made your skin flush hot, and then your jaw went slack as you watched him wrap his lips around the newly made hole in the can. He made eye contact with you one more time before tipping his head back, and cracking the tab of the beer open with his thumb so that the liquid when squirting down his throat.

The muscles in his throat jerked as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

It wasn’t three seconds before he lowered his head and crushed the can in his hand to show it was empty. He let out a refreshing, “ahhhh,” and darted his tongue out to lick a droplet from his chin.

You were still holding your unopened beer, waiting for him, mouth dry. “I-I’m not sure I—”

Yes, you knew what shotgunning a beer was, you’d seen it done plenty of times at college parties and in movies, but had never been tempted to try it yourself.

Ignoring your hesitation, Eddie motioned with the crook of his finger for you to come closer. You shuffled to be within reach of him as if your knees were locked in place.

With a gentle touch, fingers brushing yours, he took your beer from you, wiped it off with his shirt, and then proceeded to make the same hole with his key in the aluminum. Some of the beer sprayed up and misted your face.

“Here we go,” he tipped your chin with his finger and butterflies swarmed in your stomach as his eyes searched yours. “Just let it shoot into the back of your throat.”

You swallowed nervously to make sure your throat was working, and then wrapped your lips around the can at his instruction.

“Easy, just like that, hold it there,” Eddie was so close now that your elbow was touching his bare chest. He put a hand on the back of your head. “When I say, tip your head back all the way, and I’ll flip the tab for you.”

You swiped your tongue over the hole in the can, thinking about how embarrassing it would be if you messed it up and beer went shooting out of your nose.

Robin offered a few words of encouragement and you noticed a tendril of hair clinging to the sweat on Eddie’s neck, right over the heartbeat in his throat.

“You ready?”

You weren’t but—-

“Okay, now.”

You closed your eyes, slammed your head back, and prayed, even though you weren’t at all religious. Some lukewarm beer leaked onto your tongue, and then Eddie pulled the tab, keeping one hand over yours to hold the can steady.

The gush of liquid hissed and exploded down your throat, and for a second you thought you would choke, but then your swallowing reflex bolted into action and it was over so fast.

You gasped and swiped beer from your chin when you pulled away to look at the empty can, amazed.

Eddie cupped his warm hand around the back of your neck, and you felt him shift closer until his mouth was at your ear.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

An actual chill ran down your spine.

Robin put up her hand and you gave you a high five. “Not bad for a first timer,” she joked. “Now crush it on your forehead and grunt.”

“Ha. Ha.”

You turned to Eddie, “that was fun maybe he should—”

You were about to say the two of you should do another one,

but he was gone.

—----

The next night, Eddie couldn’t sleep, so he decided to head to the property to finish up some work at the pool house.

The place he shared with Wayne was close enough to walk to the Hawkins Landing property, but that night, he drove. He wanted to roll the window down on the van and blast Wasted Years by Iron Maiden and belt out the lyrics.

He slipped into the parking lot for visitors and employees, turning the music down so that it wouldn’t be heard by any of the nearby cabins. There were two street lamps on, but a third one he noticed was out, and made a mental note that he’d have to get Jamie to fix it tomorrow. The sidewalks along the manicured lawn were also lined with lights that came out of the ground like little mushrooms, and the boat dock far off to his left was lit, but other than that, he was in the dark.

Grabbing his red toolbox from the passenger seat, he put a flashlight in his tool belt holster, and the van door creaked on its hinges just before it banged shut. His ribs still ached from the punch he took the night before, but he only allowed himself to cringe and curse in private. Luckily, his only companions at that moment were the crickets and the lapping of the water against the bank.

It wasn’t until he was a few yards down the sidewalk, head down, lost in thought, that the din of classical music made him halt in his tracks.

It was definitely strings, possibly a violin? No, it was too deep.

He looked up at the main house, but the sound was much too close to be coming from way up there.

He cut to the right and up the grass.

Then he saw the attic light on in cabin #11.

He told himself not to bother, but as the passion of the playing increased, curiosity got the better of him.

He came right up to your driveway, staying half obscured by a tree trunk, and watched you.

The cello, of course that’s what you were playing. He was no expert on the classics, but he’d always learned music by ear and had a unique sense for identifying instruments.

You weren’t reading from sheet music, you were just playing while you stared out at the sky.

Playing something by heart, or making it up as you went along, he wasn’t sure.

In his mind, you were so far out of league, it was criminal.

Your attention broke when a sudden movement down on the road startled you.

The bow zipped clumsily across the strings one last time, and you stood up to get closer to the open window.

But, your eyes must’ve been playing tricks on you.

There was no one there.

-----

Hi hello! thank you so much for reading! For those wondering, this fic will still be centered around music, not boxing, but the little fight club they have has a lot to do with the spin of the plot soon.

thank you all so much for the suppport! we are getting to the juicy parts now! give me those hungry eyes. comments and reblogs are cherished!! like, I live for them.

-------

taglist: @tlclick73@micheledawn1975@kurdtbean@katethetank@elvendria@spookysqaush86@somethingvicked@stylesxmunson@laurenlokirby@sapphire4082 @kellsck @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @justdamnpeachy @dashingdeb16 @corrodedcoffincumslut @bexreadstoomuch

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson series #Dirty Metal Summer #Eddie Munson fic #dirty dancing au #eddie munson x reader

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hwaightme · 9 months

Text

Cat named Mars (catboy!hwa hcs)

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

😻 pairing: catboy!seonghwa x gn!reader 😻 genre: headcanons, fluff, crack, demon? to cat? to roommate? to lover? 😻 summary: the longest bulletpoints about what it would be like to have catboy!hwa as your bf - the whole story 😻 wordcount: 4.5k 😻 warnings/tags: editing? who is she, unhinged crack part nyah, catboy!hwa, cute catboy!hwa, soft and polite catboy!hwa- okay i will stop |, language, food/eating, mention of others not treating animals well, sweater paws, mention of adorable nerdy hobbies, domestic, cuddle, a surprise about how hwa ended up being a cat in the first place, both past and present tense used, mainly lowercase 😻 taglist: at the bottom of the fic~ 😻 a/n: let me drift in the soft and fluffy catboy!hwa lands until waterbomb strikes, for my own healing; my braincells are out of service but i hope you enjoy <3 all reblogs, thoughts and notes appreciated! big hugs!

once upon a time he was a cat

there was never a moment to think about anything except work, and maybe about groceries and bills (but even those things normally hit you at two o'clock in the morning, leading you to check your phone and make make amendments to your schedule in a panicked state). there was never any room for a cat. until there was.

of course there just had to be an adorable kitty, at most maybe a couple of years old, lean and with jet black fur that was surprisingly shiny for an abandoned cat, sitting square in the middle of a cardboard box on the side of the street that formed a part of your regular path and commute to and from work. in the morning, you had locked eyes with the cat, heart bleeding and hurting for the poor creature but secretly hoping that someone else would take it - you couldn't take care of it, could you? in the evening, you were huffing and puffing with the cardboard box in your hands and the cat happily meowing, its tail stretched out upwards into a chimney pipe, slightly tilted to the side at the very end. you read somewhere that it meant the cat was happy, so you were going to take that as a good sign.

sat on the floor at the entrance to your apartment, you eyed the beautiful creature as it kept on purring and trying to hop out of the box and towards you, while you were insistent on keeping it in, lifting a cardboard flap repeatedly in an effort to prevent it from jumping. so. now you had a cat. there was nothing in the box, and on the outside, in horrific scrawl was a message suggesting whoever took the kitty either "kept him, or throw him away, whatever". non-humans. "that's who your previous owners were, right kitty?" you mumbled to no one in particular, but it seemed that the cat picked up on your speech and inched closer to you, ears moving like disks to pick up signals. "so you are a he, yeah?" a meow. so you were right. at least the beasts from this cat's past got one thing right. "do you have a name? actually… you know what do you want a… new name?" you were fast on the attachment scale, you realised. it had been barely a few minutes and you were already trying to name the cat who you had not even checked for diseases, nor had any basic facilities to take care of him. but he was more than excited by the prospect, and mewled in what sounded like gratitude. you began to list off names, eventually boring the kitty, and he started to falter in his enthusiasm. all until one name rang a bell.

"Mars?"

and that was how you ended up with a black cat named Mars.

by the power of actually having to shake paws with a cat, and you promising to get him quality snacks, you managed to get Mars checked at the vet who confirmed everything was fine, and was equally as amazed as you that he was so well groomed and neat. while you knew you did not have much of a right to do this, your inner pride still swelled and, to yourself, you said that 'yes, my Mars is really neat and handsome'.

you took to addressing Mars as 'your handsome boy' and that seemed to wake him up and get him speeding towards you faster than anything else could. also 'the prettiest star' and 'my universe' and 'marvellous Mars' all worked wonders.

at the same time, he was shy, as if he did not want to disturb you with his antics. always tip-toeing around you as silently as a cat could (which was very silent, to the point where he jumpscared you a couple of times but that is okay because excuse me did you see his precious face????) and never taking up much space, even though… hello? Mars? you are a cat?? he would rarely ever hop on any surfaces unless you explicitly told him to do so - this had left you convinced that your cat was well-versed in human-speak. he never meowed for food until you had told him to vocalise and tell you if he was very hungry, and gave him a rundown of his eating schedule and how it was important that he drank water. he was the politest cat you had ever met, while at the same time his timidness made you wonder if you were in any way intimidating. not once did Mars ever enter your bedroom, even though you left the door wide open for him, preferring to crash on the couch or on the floor of some other room. the first couple of times you joked about it saying "are you scared you'll see something, Marsy?" but when your cat actually looked away and hunched over, you were convinced that you hit the nail on the head, and that you were probably either hallucinating or were slowly turning into Doctor Dolittle.

but you were persistent. and insistent. and you took the little blanket with kuromi decor on it from him (yes this was that extreme of a situation) and put it at the edge of your bed. climbing in and covering yourself in the many layers, you looked at the terrified figure hovering at the entrance to the room, boba eyes as wide as saucers. he kept on looking at the blanket, then at you, then again at the blanket, then again at you, probably wondering if he could snatch the thing and make a run for it. you were on the verge of giving up at this point. sleepy, with work tomorrow, you were not about to engage in a whole war with your cat.

"you know what, if you want to stay, you can stay. i promise i will not hurt you, nor will i push you out. if you want to come closer, do. if you just want to take the blanket and leave, you can do that. your choice. i won't be hurt. i promise. you are already super brave and i love you either way. okay, Mars?" he did not respond, frozen in place. "my handsome boy?" his head twisted towards you. "precious?" a blink. another blink. one paw in front of the other. "are you actua- wow! I am so proud of you my baby! my brave boy!" you were cooing praises at him like there was nothing else in the world that existed as soon as he hopped onto the bed, foregoing the blanket and making a beeline towards your face, as though that was his read source of comfort. he was afraid to look away, focusing on your every expression as you patted his head and let him nuzzle into you. "you are so so brave, you know that? i know this is hard, so if at any point you want to leave, you can, okay?" purring louder than a powerdrill was the response you received. along with kitty cuddles through the whole night. because apparently, your cat was a koala all along.

and even in his cuddles he was gentle. you did not think you had ever seen him use his claws… ever. except maybe on a few toys but as soon as you were in sight poof gone, soft Mars activated. he was like your personal heater, careful to wrap himself closer to you not to push you out, but to instead complete whatever curled up position you were lying in. if you were stretched out to the side, he would find a place. if you were in a ball? he would find a place again. if you were lying down straight for whatever reason? give him a couple of nights to get comfortable, and now you had the ultimate cat comforter either on you, or around your head. and yes, you were blessed with a cat who barely shed, somehow. some of your friends who had cats almost cursed you when they found out, but you only smiled, looking at your lockscreen. nowadays, even during the workday you were thinking of Mars at least a little bit.

maybe you were spoiling him a little bit, but it was too adorable to see him watching you play legend of zelda or animal crossing on your nintendo switch. and when he saw that you got a gift from a friend in the form of a lego set? well. you were literally afraid to open the box because of how hyper your cat got - perhaps not today…

you fell into the most pleasant routines with Mars, from waking up and going to bed together, to eating breakfast and then 'parting ways' for you to attend to human business and him to his 'cat business'. it was cute. it made your head sing. you were happier than you had ever been. all thanks to that one random day. one random box. and one black haired kitty who radiated sunshine.

it was the eve of the one year anniversary of you being the proud owner of, or how you preferred to say it, the best friend of 'L/n Mars', and you were as sure as his ears were pointy in wanting to go all out with your celebration - minus the guests (because the last time you had invited a male friend of yours over your cat turned into a whole other creature and then sulked for at least three days until you took a day off work and called it 'Mars day', but you just assumed it was some territorial thing). you had set up little themed decorations, found a cute little headband with the number '1' that is suitable and safe for a cat and would not hurt his head, got a matching, human-sized one for yourself, made a whole dinner for your favourite kitty from scratch - the ingredients all checked with the vet who you now casually called by first name because you did not dare ever give Mars anything that might harm him and would rather panic call the doctor.

you were sat at the coffee table, so that it would be easier for Mars to reach the food (you set pillows on the floor for extra comfort, for which he thanked you with a loud meow), and had your respective mini-cakes set out in front of either of you. you had given up on making him ever eat kitty food - another peculiar quirk of your cat, so the 'cake', which was more a protein gift than anything, was fully home made. but Mars was happy. more than happy. if cats could smile, that was exactly what he was doing, right at you, squinting his eyes, threatening to hop over the table. you told him to wait, and quietly whispered your gratitude to him. much to your delight, he waited and listened, clinging onto every word.

"you know, i really think you are an angel. before you i was quite… how do i say this… life was just passing by. and now i look forward to it. and to be able to see you every day, to have fun days with you, to talk with you… all of that brings me so much joy and i hope that i can make you at least a little bit happy too. i wish you could tell me what you want, of course, but i really do think you know what i am thinking, what i am saying. and i hope that i am right in saying that i can understand you a bit too. you really are the smartest, most precious Mars. light of my life. i love you so much, my gorgeous, and here is to many years more, cheers~" you clinked your glass with orange juice with his water bowl, and giggled when he took a couple of neat laps to match with your gulps, only to lick his lips and hop off the pillows and go under the table.

in a matter of seconds, he reappeared at your side of the table, and poked at your lap with his paw, looking up at you with his bead-like eyes that seemed to contain the whole universe in them. you pat him between his ears, scratched under his chin, delighting him, and then stretched out your legs, gesturing towards your legs to signify that lap-napping season was open. Mars did not need to be told twice, and soon enough you had a black cat curled up on your lap, purring away, mewling a couple of times when you started eating to remind you that he was hungry too.

"so you want me to feed you now, too? aren't you cheeky-"

as if you could refuse him. you would be lying if you said you could. so there you were, on the floor and feeding Mars, quiet music playing from your phone, not quite sure if you could be any happier.

"i love you."

quite the contrast to what happened the next morning.

suddenly he is a catboy

when you wake up, Mars is nowhere in sight, and even when you call him, to which he would reply with at least a meow, you are only met with silence. you are alarmed, but wait in bed for just a little longer to see if Mars would come to you. nothing. you call again, 'pspspsps' him, all to no avail. only the breeze and the birds outside, along with inexplicable rustling from another room in your apartment. you raise an eyebrow and prop yourself up on your elbows. more rustling. a door opening, which sounds like the closet where you kept your warmer clothes. what is going on? another door closing. footsteps? you are on high alert. grabbing your phone and the light saber model which you had made a while back and kept safe by your bed, as it turned out exactly for this kind of moment, you head out to face whatever, or whoever is the source of the sound.

you are stealth itself, rounding the corner with weapon in hand, ready to face the attacker - or so you thought. until you come face to face with the tall, young man dressed head to toe in your clothing, namely a tracksuit that you had accidentally gotten in the wrong size and then somehow ended up being refunded for without returning the item, and a beanie that he had pulled over his head. spikes of jet black hair are poking from under the hat in all directions, and his deep brown eyes are widened in shock as he freezes on the spot and stares back at you.

"so, what the hell are you doing in my clothes?"

"y/n- i-"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?"

"i can explain-"

"nope do NOT get closer what-"

"Mars…. i…. it's me… your uh… cat."

"what?"

he looks embarrassed beyond belief, and crumbles to the floor, sliding until his back is against the wardrobe. wrapping his arms around his knees, he is scared to look up at you, worried that you would never recognise him, never accept him. this is exactly what he has been dreading all this time, and was heartbroken when the curse was finally broken, despite him technically being free now. he does not want to be away from you. this is his home. you are his home. you are the one who showed him true love.

"if it is okay… may i take this beanie off for a second?"

"i didn't even let you put it on in the first place," he winces. you feel a little bad, but hold your ground. his eyes sparkle in a way that is a little too familiar, reminding you of a certain someone. the cat who he mentioned. your precious cat. Mars.

"okay… here goes…" he slides the material off, making you gasp. hidden under the beanie is a pair of cat ears, fluffy, the same colour as his hair, and twitching as he adjusts after having flattened them to minimise their visibility.

"yo what."

"i have… a tail too."

"WHAT?"

he is not joking. a black tail to go with the black ears, sliding out from under the oversized hoodie. you are not sure what happened next, but you wake up on the sofa with the man, who you are now guessing is some human cat hybrid version of Mars fanning you with a magazine.

"I AM SORRY, Y/N PLEASE WAKE UP I AM SO- oh you are awake thank goodness i missed you i am really so sorry…" he drops the magazine almost instantly, leaning towards you and wrapping you in a warm embrace, much to your surprise. you yelp, but the softness, as well as his ears moving in the cutest way while he hugs you make you accept the gesture, and return it.

you never thought you would hear a grown man purr exactly like a cat, but here you are. well, you never thought you would have a catboy in your apartment either, but this is already happening so...

"so, Mars?"

"yeah?"

"you have some explaining to do."

after what turned out to be at least two hours of you and him going back and forth about what had unfolded and what was the history of the young catboy's state, you find out that, in reality, his name is Park Seonghwa, and that he is a demon, of all things. that is right, a demon. set out to curse and haunt and spread sin. but no, he is cast out of hell because he is too kind and soft. and so he had been cursed to be a cat, until for a full year, someone could give him their whole heart, their full love. while he explains this to you with a fondness unlike anything you had ever seen before in your life (except in what you perceived from cat Mars's eyes), you begin to blush, realising that all this time, you were talking to and confessing to him. Seonghwa. this handsome man who was always by your side and-

oh. and he was sleeping in the same bed as you. just great. you flush an even deeper shade and cover your face. and he had been jealous, not territorial, when your friend had come over.

"are you okay?"

"so okay."

"hug?"

"i, uh-"

"you give really good hugs."

"Park Seonghwa do you really want to make me suffer?"

"I AM SO SORRY ARE YOU HURT? DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG I AM SO SORRY?!"

"no you are too cute. come here"

catboy!hwa headcanons

is initially cautious because well… you got used to him being a cat and now suddenly you have a whole man with cat ears and a tail walking around your house. he catches on to the fact that you are kind of shy around him too, but he does not push it, at least not straight away.

because that would mean that he has to get over his own shyness towards you extra quickly, and that proves to be difficult when it hits him that, well, he is now a person too, and you are a person, and he fell in love with you, and you told him you loved him before - on occasion he just walks around blushing with his ears pressed flat to his head but don't point it out he is already struggling ;~;

you might have to be the one to initiate the contact again because he is literally too scared to overstep anything and everything - even when you bought him his own first few sets of clothes as a 'human edition anniversary gift'. you approach him to give him a hug and he groups up as if he is about to dive into a pool, hands to his chest, eyes wide. but is he moving anywhere? no. does his purring give him away? yes. after that the two of you gently reintroduce physical touch and it makes you realise just how much you miss Mars, particularly because Seonghwa is still a little distant for understandable reasons. But you both are trying your best.

if you massage his head and scratch behind his hears he will melt - his favourite thing in the world is having his head rest on your lap with his eyes closed while you ruffle his hair really slowly and run your fingers through it.

desperately misses the times when you would call him handsome and pretty and smart, and every single affectionate word in the universe so he tries his damn hardest to get you to do that again, first by trying to be nice and helping you around the house, and when the results are not to his satisfaction and when cuddle sessions are pretty much the norm, but words of affection aren't… he pouts and openly asks you why you don't call him that anymore. you squeak the words out but the reaction makes every next attempt easier than anything.

he is scared to approach your room again, though, and this time you say nothing because well, this is a whole other territory. a couple of months pass before you consider and that is because you find him sleeping on the floor a couple of times, curled up with is tail covering his face a little, and he said it was because "he is scared otherwise and here is safe". so you take out a futon for now, but he is more than happy with this progress.

he learns how to cook both from you and from tutorials online, and then starts remembering what he used to cook a long time before - you basically stop cooking altogether because now he is insistent on waking you up with breakfast, packing you lunch and greeting you with dinner. he sometimes gets a bit too experimental, but you do not mind it too much because at least he cleans everything up.

you think you can ignore the lego in the corner of your living room? no :) it is a date now. a lego building date. for four hours straight. on the floor. him running this ship like you run your team at work. and his focus, his professional approach to the matter is a little too attractive, you admit to yourself. and somewhere along the way that translates into you planting a kiss on Hwa's cheek. this is the only time over the whole four hours that he drops the pieces he is holding in his hands, gazing at you, not quite sure if what he felt just now was real or not.

but nope, judging by your attempts to avoid his gaze this was very real. so he gets real bold real quick and guess who finds themselves trapped by two tones arms on either side of you, back on the floor, a curious and mischievous face a mere inch away? that's right, you. wants to build a starship, accidentally builds a relationship along with it - a major win.

there isn't ever a platonic stage really. an extensive awkward stage? sure. a roommates-maybe stage? sure. two people who like each other? sure. and now, after many months of you settling into a new routine, two people who love each other and keep telling each other that.

he finds a job that he can do remotely, and in this way remains mainly at home and around the neighbourhood with his beloved hobbies and balancing you out. in this way he now starts to sneak support to pay bills and to buy you little gifts (as a little apology for taking your clothes sometimes - read often)

it is not Hwa's fault that he misses you very quickly. it just happens. then one thing leads to another and he is lying on your shared bed hugging a hoodie of yours. eventually that leads to him dragging a couple more items out of your wardrobe and making a little nest out of them - only then does his worry go down and he goes for a nap while curled up in a ball.

when he knows that you should be arriving soon he starts walking up to the window, then away then back to the window, and away again. cycle repeats itself until he can spot you from a distance, and then he just stays by the window.

he helps you redecorate and rearrange your apartment, considering that you now have a 5'10'' human cat instead of one you can hold with two hands, and shocks you with just how many details he remembers about you, down to allergies, what colours irritate you when it comes to interiors, what plants you had to give away to keep him 'in cat form' safe - even though yes, he would not eat them, but how were you to know that?

he remembers all your special days, and hopes you remember his, too. thankfully, he knows his own birthday and using cat mathematics, converted from demon to cat to human. and so, now you can celebrate him wholeheartedly, only this time that also involves you taking him to go have a picnic under the cherry blossoms.

you and Seonghwa go to pick out and buy him a phone together, and you spend a whole day teaching him how to use it. soon enough your own phone goes off with notifications from him. he sends you fun things throughout the day and if he is busy, he sends you a selfie or a heartfelt message.

likes to curl up and read poetry with you. doesn't matter if out loud of in silence. what matters to him is that you are close. and good luck trying to get away - he has a tail and it is wrapped around your leg like an alert system so that he can tackle you right back to the couch or the bed. because it is you and Seonghwa time.

occasionally sings you lullabies that he either overheard somewhere or remembers, breaking into a smile when you wriggle closer to him and fall asleep, stress melting away from your every feature.

overall you are now living with a catboy Hwa cast out of hell for being too nice, who also turned out to be a big nerd, with heart eyes for you, sweater paws instead of actual paws, the occasional feline habits still coming through (like him rubbing his face against your shoulder, or your own face, or him hissing when frustrated or threatened, or him having the widest stretch in the morning, or… actually he is still part cat so, you have to deal with it), and all the love to give. thankfully not in the form of something he hunted. he buys birds at a store now. meant to be cooked. human-friendly.

he brings you a limited edition starship instead. if you display it he will look at you like he is falling in love with you all over again - if that is even possible because that would mean stopping loving you now, and that is the one thing he cannot do <3

😻 taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @pocketjoong-reads @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @burnmepls @pyeonghongrie-main @archivesummer @little-angel-k @marsstarxhwa

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please leave a kind reblog, much love!

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charismabee · 4 months

Text

I like STP swap aus in theory but I find how I've seen people do them a little strange (not bad tho they're still cool n stuff and I like them very much)

Like they're just... making the princess bird shaped without actually examining what swapping the Shifting Mound and Long Quiet's role in the narrative would mean. (Not meant to be negative)

Let's take the Narrator for example. In Slay the Princess he wants to kill the Princess because he wants to stop death forever. But the Long Quiet isn't death, he's stillness, lack of change. This completely changes the Narrator's core motivation. It can work though. Maybe he's in a world that has stagnated, no change, no innovation. It feels like rot, so he decided he had to find a way to be rid of it. Or maybe some other explanation. This would change his core world view, what he might consider a good end, how he acts a bit, lots of things.

Speaking of the good end, that's definitely not going to be an eternity of stagnant bliss, we literally just killed the personanification of stagnation. You could think around that too. Remember I the stranger route when everything was happening at once and it was the same as nothing happening? Maybe that happens. Without stillness the Princess is met with a barrage of constant change and stimulation, everything happening at once. The Princess could realise it is Nothing as much as it is Everything and that gets her out of it.

The Long quiet would be interesting too, because he doesn't change, it isn't in his nature to. Instead, he fractures. Perhaps instead of finding his multitudes you are shattering him. Breaking off parts of him so he can see them from the outside and know them. Once enough pieces of him have been broken off he will shatter completely and finally be able to see all of him, would talons pick up his broken pieces, would wings made of textured nothingness wrap around them and embrace them tightly? Would he reside on a hill of squirming hands or bodies, lost in the centre of the shifting mound?

Perhaps without a need for agency, or someone to make a decision the Voices would just exist as their own thing. First one that claims to be a Hero, who claims to have agency in their story (a part of reflected in her, the Long Quiet does not need to shatter to be able to see him), quickly joined by a Paranoid and terrified victim, an Opportunist Scammer, a Stubborn opponent. Different, but not changed. Not the one person molded into another.

Even the construct itself would be changed by who it is created to kill. Perhaps when the Princess first arrives on the path in the woods it is autumn, a sign of the seasons changing, there is life and death and nature and cycles, but on that 3rd Chapter, it is summer. The leaves are green and waxy, everything is preserved in a completely silent stillness. Maybe there is a horror in that no matter how you get there those silent woods are always the same, unchanging.

Unlike the Long Quiet, the Shifting Mound does change. She is naturally malleable. She has no need for voices because whatever action you take becomes what she would have always done. Perhaps her body changes, giving her new advantages, the body of a vicious Beast stalks towards the cabin, hunger tinting your choices through a cabin twisted to suit her needs. A goddess glides towards her temple, willing it to be large enough to fit her. A dainty Princess hurries to find her Prince charming in a fairytale cabin. The land twists under her will, whether she realises that or not, only giving resistance when too close to the 'monster' kept down there. She is change, it is only natural she causes it.

Even stuff like how to get rid of him would change, because can you actually kill the absence of something? The natural state of things before they shift? The shifting mound is motion and for everything to be in motion all the time means nothing can ever really happen at all. There is no fulfilment in anything you do if your opinion on what to do changes every moment you exist. Perhaps to truly 'kill' him she needs to make him smaller, change what cannot be changed to make the stillness that will be broken, the things to be changed. Perhaps he will break them out of there and thank her. Perhaps without a way to know himself he slowly fades into a nothingness, trapped in an eternity of stagnation that change herself refused to save him from.

It is still a love story, he is naturally inclined to help her, she will always love him, but things have changed.

Anyway this is just a dumb little ramble because I was thinking and it's nearly 3am so this is probably nonsense anyway. I do really like swap ideas they're interesting and stuff <3

#slay the princess #swap au #My stupid rambles again #stp princess #stp the shifting mound #stp the long quiet #stp the narrator #I'm going to sleep now

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heyiwrotesomethings · 6 months

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Okay, I think my request is weird? I don't know haha. It's my first time doing this😔

The other day I imagined a reader being a demon who saved a little girl from her own abusive family and the reader tries to find a home for the little girl, but she couldn't, so she ends up adopting her.

But, after some time, Shinobu Kocho finds the demon and, of course, tries to kill attack the reader, but the reader doesn't attack back. Anyway, when she was going to kill the demon, the little girl stopped her. Shinobu didn't understand what was going on.

Anyway, when Shinobu understands what kind of relationship the demon has with the kid, she decides to protect them (with the excuse of protecting the kid, actually, because she didn't trust the demon at all) and eventually falls in love with the demon.

Sorry, first time doing this haha! I love your writing!

A Home

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Demon Reader

A/N: Not a weird request, it was cute! Sorry for the lack of updates y’all, idk what’s wrong with me. I just don’t have the energy. Here’s one thing at least. Sorry if it seems too jumpy/fast between breaks, it was getting longer than what I’d prefer to do these days. Hope you enjoy, thanks for reading, and thank you all for being patient with me! Word Count: ~4,750

“That’s right, Sachiko, go on.” (Y/n) ushered the young child towards the lantern lit house. “Go knock on the door.”

The little girl took a few cautious steps further along the path to the house before looking back at (Y/n), unsure.

“You can do it, they’re nice people. You’ll be happy here.” She continued to coach her from the bushes.

This pattern continued a couple more times until the little girl made it to the front door.

“Good job, sweetheart! Now just knock on the door like we practiced…”

Sachiko looked at (Y/n) over her shoulder, her eyes were big and her bottom lip wobbled.

“Go on…” (Y/n) nodded, smiling reassuringly.

Finally Sachiko knocked timidly on the door, patchy blanket clutched against her little body, and (Y/n) released a sigh of relief when her sharp ears picked up on a stirring within the house.

“Onee-san?” Sachiko’s voice quivered stepping away from the door when she saw (Y/n) slinking back into the woods.

“It’s time to part ways, you’ll be happy and well taken care of here.” (Y/n) could hear a familiar hitch in Sachiko’s breathing, hear her little girl’s heart speed up fearfully, and that could only mean one thing… “No, nonono, no tears sweetheart, please? Not again.”

But it was too late, Sachiko started sobbing. (Y/n) tried her best to comfort her from afar while also attempting to direct her back to the house.

“What’s going on out here?” A concerned man slid the door open fast, making a loud clacking noise that only made Sachiko cry louder, running away from the man and in the direction of the woods, the direction of (Y/n).

“Who is it dear?” The man’s wife joined him at the door, lantern in hand. She aimed the lantern’s light into the woods and caught sight of the little girl running right into the arms of what appeared to her to be a monster. A humanoid beast with curved horns and sharp teeth, reflective, piercing eyes.

The woman shrieked, flinging the lantern away and grabbing her husband by the collar, practically dragging him back into the house, slamming the door shut. (Y/n) could hear the sound of heavy furniture dragging across the floor inside and she sighed deeply.

“Alright, alright… come here.” She picked up the sobbing girl, tears and snot immediately staining her neck and shoulder, little fingers clutching her for dear life.

“You were gonna try and leave me again!” Sachiko wailed as (Y/n) carried her through the forest.

“It’s for your own good, Sachiko. I’m only trying to do what’s best for you.”

“No!”

(Y/n) sighed again. This had been her seventh attempt at re-homing Sachiko since she rescued the little girl from her abusive home. It was no easy task vetting out potential families looking as fearsome as she did. One would think the little girl would leap at the chance of a normal, loving family, but no, she always came running back to the demon each time.

“It’s not safe for you to be with me, Sachiko. Don’t you want the certainty of a roof over your head, food, medicine… to be able to play with other kids on a sunny day?” (Y/n) beseeched the girl each time to see reason, but each time, Sachiko refused.

“I like sleeping outside with you. You gave me a name and you give me lots of food and hugs and you scare all the bad things away. You’re all I need, Onee-san.”

(Y/n)’s heart clenched an the sweet sentiment, but this was no environment for a child to grow up in. She’d have to search for another viable family and try again, but for now, she would need to find a yet another suitable place for Sachiko to sleep and for her to avoid the morning sun.

“Besides, medicine is icky!” Sachiko grumbled.

An exhausted chuckle left (Y/n)’s lips and they carried on, eventually finding a cave. (Y/n) scoped it out for any dangerous creatures before bringing Sachiko inside. She then used the remaining darkness to gather a bunch of leaves, sticks and even a few fish from the stream.

She made a little bed from the leaves topped with the raggedy blanket she had snatched for Sachiko a couple months ago. It had been brand new at the time, but between the weather and the traveling, it had seen better days. Sachiko adamantly refused (Y/n)’s attempts to get her a new one, however.

(Y/n) then made a little fire, cooking the fish over the flames. After awhile, she carefully inspected one, gently fanning it to cool it off before handing it off to Sachiko.

“Careful, it’s still a little hot.”

“Yummy, fish again!”

(Y/n) felt a bolt of shame strike through her body despite Sachiko’s genuine excitement.

“We’ll be in the city in a couple of days and I’ll get you all kinds of good food, alright?”

“Onee-san is gonna steal again.” Sachiko more so stating a fact than asking a question. She took another bite of the crispy fish.

“N-no! Stealing is bad! What I’m doing is just… really long-term borrowing! Yeah!”

“Oh, okay.” Sachiko said, not at all bothered.

(Y/n) felt awful for lying, but she was trying her best to instill good values in the poor girl whilst also keeping her alive. It wasn’t like she had money, and she certainly wasn’t going to be getting any job offers looking the way that she did. Stealing was the only viable option.

When Sachiko finished her fish, she curled up on her leafy bed and (Y/n) tucked her within the raggedy blanket. The demon recited a little bedtime story that she had made up. It was one of Sachiko’s favorites. Before she could finish, the little girl fell asleep and (Y/n) spent most of the day that followed watching over her, making sure she didn’t seem too cold or uncomfortable.

***

“Yes… Yes! everything I need is right here.” The demon whispered to herself over her bag of stolen goods. They had been caught in an unexpected rain a few nights ago and Sachiko had gotten sick. (Y/n) had fretted over whether or not she could leave the little girl alone or not, but the fever Sachiko had was growing more concerning by the hour, so the demon finally decided to slip out of the cave one night as the little girl slept fitfully. She covered the cave’s entrance and left for the nearest village as fast as she could and broke into a general store.

She filled a bag to the brim with medicines, foods and drinks and slunk back out of the dark store’s open window and ran off into the night as quick as her feet could carry her.

“Almost there, hang on just a little longer.”

She ran, unaware of her pursuer sailing through the trees above until—

A foot was planted squarely between her shoulder blades, the force causing her to tumble to the ground, her bag of stolen goods scattered across the forest floor in front of her. She tried to scrambled to her knees to start shoveling everything back into the canvas bag, but the foot between her shoulders doubled down its force and another foot planted itself squarely on her lower back.

“I thought I sensed a demon in the area.” A pleasant sounding voice stated from above. “But what is all this here now?”

Shinobu’s eyes scanned the array of items splayed over the ground and felt an extra tick of annoyance rise within her. If she wasn’t already putting all of her body weight on the demon, she’d add a bit more pressure.

“Food, water, medicine… what could a demon possibly need such things for? You creatures always manage to find new ways to surprise me. It’s not enough to slaughter humans, must you also feel the need to waste perfectly good food and medication?”

(Y/n) tilted her head to the side, breath hitching when when she saw the point of a blade resting dangerously close to her eye. Above her, backlit by the moon, she saw a woman wearing a seemingly neutral smile, though (Y/n) could sense the terrifying aura she gave off. Then she caught sight of the gold buttons, the durable dark clothing she wore, white collar and welt pocket. She imagined if she could check, she would also see that the kanji for ‘extermination’ would be written upon the back of the woman’s uniform. (Y/n) had done well to avoid demon slayers until now and as her luck would have it, she had been found by a Hashira of all people.

“No, wait,” (Y/n) pleaded. “There is somewhere I have to be. There is a little girl who desperately needs that medicine. If you would let me show you—”

“Oh, one of those demons, are you?” Shinobu interrupted. “I always find the demons who toy with peoples’ lives for longer than necessary to be the most detestable. But I’m feeling surprisingly generous tonight, so if you tell me where this little girl is, I’ll use one of my more ‘gentle’ poisons on you.”

“She’s in a cave not too far from here, maybe half a kilometer at most, eastward, by the stream. I covered the entrance with woven sticks and leaves.” (Y/n) shared, voice shaking, “Please just… just make sure she’s well taken care of.” She closed her eyes tight. Was this really it? It was all happening so fast.

“Thank you for being so forthcoming, how admirable.” Shinobu praised, thought it did not feel sincere to (Y/n) in the slightest. “Now, to ensure you aren’t lying, I’ll be poisoning you within an inch of your life. If I do find this girl you speak of, then I shall make my swift return to finish you off, alright?”

(Y/n) took in a shaky breath, shutting her eyes tightly as she waited for the strike. She prayed Sachiko would not see whatever may be left of her after this…

With a fanciful flourish of her sword, Shinobu took aim at the back of the demon’s neck and—

“Onee-san!”

A shrill voice wailed, freezing Shinobu’s very blood in her veins, causing her to hesitate. The hesitation giving Sachiko enough time to half run, half stumble over to the scene and cover the back of (Y/n)’s head and neck with her whole body.

Defiant, teary eyes glared up at Shinobu as if she were the root of all evil.

“Stop bullying my Onee-san!” Sachiko punched Shinobu in the knee with enough force to make Shinobu at least wince and take one foot off of (Y/n)’s back. “You mean old ugly hag!”

Shinobu blinked, her neutral smile twitched ever so slightly.

“Sachiko!” (Y/n) gasped, forgetting all about her pending execution, “You can’t say things like that!”

“I don’t care!” Sachiko wailed, “She’s—“ Sachiko broke into an awful coughing fit.

“Sachiko!” (Y/n) tried to get up on impulse.

“Don’t move, or you won’t live another second.” Shinobu warned the demon before putting her attention back on the little girl, her other foot finally leaving (Y/n)’s back. “Come here, let me see you.”

“No!” Sachiko refused, still kneeling protectively over (Y/n).

“Listen here, little one. I don’t know what this demon has told you, but you are not safe with her.”

“Uh uh! If I didn’t meet Onee-san, I’d still be getting hits and rumbly tummies and bad sleeps! —Hey!”

Shinobu put the back of her hand on Sachiko’s forehead, more focused on checking the girl over than listening to her rebuttals.

“You’re burning up.” She murmured with concern, the she turned a glare onto (Y/n). “These cheap remedies aren’t going to do her any good. She needs a doctor, fortunately I am more than qualified. Come little one,” Shinobu opened her arms to pick Sachiko up, putting on her best motherly smile, “I’ll take you to my home and make you feel much better.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you! No touch!”

“Just— ah!”

Sachiko bit Shinobu’s hand and the Hashira held her indented palm to her chest, a string of expletives griping the edge of her tongue for dear life.

“Enough! That’s enough foolishness!” Shinobu nearly hissed once she had recovered enough of her mask to not cuss out a child. “Demon, stand. Now.”

(Y/n) found it in her best interest to quickly clamber to her feet, but not so quickly as to earn cause for impalement.

“Obviously the child’s life comes first. I will do everything I can to save her, and if that means working with you, then so be it. Carry her and follow me. Just remember that I’m much faster than you. Try anything, move one toe out of line, and you’re done, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am!” (Y/n) squeaked. “Come here, sweetheart.” She picked up Sachiko and the girl squirmed in her arms.

“No! We can’t go! Stranger danger, Onee-san! You said never go somewhere with a stranger!”

“Yes, but—“

“Kochou Shinobu.” The Hashira introduced herself. “And I’ve gathered your name is Sachiko, correct? We are strangers no more.”

“Shinobu… bu… boo! Boo!” Sachiko jeered.

“I’m sorry.” (Y/n) apologized to Shinobu in a strained whisper.

“Just start moving.”

(Y/n) looked back at the toppled bag of goods, “What about—“

“Time is of the essence. Keep up.”

And so the demon ran beside the Hashira, both focusing on the same goal.

***

They were cutting it very close, making it to the Butterfly Estate just before dawn. Sachiko had passed out in (Y/n)’s arms along the way so no fuss was made when (Y/n) was made to hand her over to Shinobu.

(Y/n) was then sequestered to a room in the furthest corner of the the estate by another butterfly girl with a white cloak. Another demon slayer to make sure she didn’t step out of line while Shinobu was tending to Sachiko, (Y/n) would have to guess. Only guess because her attempts to create small talk with the girl were met with silence.

A few hours past before Shinobu decided to come to the room with an update and (Y/n) had to stop herself from running up to her, grabbing her by the arms, and begging for all of the details.

“Her fever broke and she’s stable. She’ll be fine as long as she rests.”

“Oh,” (Y/n) put a hand on her chest, unshed tears shinning in her eyes, “thank you so much. I don’t know what I would have done without your help. I’m so glad you found us.”

“That would be the first time a demon has ever said that to me.” Shinobu said, seemingly unmoved by (Y/n)’s emotional display.

“Can I see her?”

“Absolutely not.” Shinobu shook her head. “We have a lot to discuss, you and I.”

The combined intense stares of Shinobu and Kanao made (Y/n) shudder involuntarily.

Oh Sachiko, I have found a safe haven, a home, for you, but for me, these are quite dire straits…

***

After hours of intensive questioning, Shinobu was finally interrupted by Aoi knocking on the door. Kanao let her in and the exasperation on the girl’s face was visible to all.

“Our new arrival is awake and currently screaming her lungs out. We’re doing everything we can just short of sedating her, Shinobu-sama, but she won’t calm unless her demands are met.”

“She wants to see the demon, I presume.” Shinobu sighed, giving (Y/n) a sideways glance.

“Yes, but she’s also screaming about a blanket.”

“Oh dear,” (Y/n) pressed her hand to her cheek, “I completely forgot about it in the heat of the moment! It’s still in that cave!”

“Supply her with a new one please, Aoi.” Shinobu asked.

“Believe me, we tried, Shinobu-sama, but she tossed all the options we provided her with aside. She won’t accept a new one.”

“That girl…” Shinobu sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I can go retrieve the blanket.” (Y/n) offered. “I think I could find my way back.”

“Do you honestly believe I would go along with that?”

“You could come with me if you think I’ll run off. Trust me, you’ll want that blanket. I have tried to replace it numerous times, but her persistence and lung capacity is stronger than my will.”

Shinobu stood silent for a moment before sighing quietly. “Very well then…“

***

Once night fell again, Shinobu and (Y/n) set off, (Y/n) still had not been allowed to see Sachiko, they could still hear the girl’s wails as they left the estate.

“If you would have just let her see me, I’m sure she would have calmed down a little…”

Shinobu ignored her and forged onward. Her pride was actually a bit bruised from this whole ordeal. Kids loved her. They flocked to her for comfort. The irony of this single child not only despising her, but also desperately wanting the comfort of a demon, was not the least bit lost on her, and she was not at all happy about it. This has to be some kind of demon art, right? But if that was true, then surely the demon would have tried to pull the same tricks with her, even going as far as to sever whatever hold she had over the child to switch for Shinobu if such a power could only work on one person at a time.

Shinobu pondered deeply until they made it to the cave, (Y/n)’s ‘aha!’ of triumph breaking her out of her thoughts.

“I found it, thank goodness. Gods… it could sure use a wash though.”

Shinobu couldn’t help but agree.

“It looks like it’ll fall apart if washed, however.”

“Yeah…” (Y/n) walked over to a nearby stream and placed the ragged blanket in the water. She then began gently massaging little circles with her knuckles, removing the dirt as carefully as she could. “It just needs a gentle wash. Takes some extra time, but it’ll help keep it from getting worse at least. If only I could sew, but these stupid claws get in the way…” she sighed.

Shinobu watched (Y/n) carefully scrub the dirt from the blanket, finding the contrast between her almost ferocious appearance and her gentle hands bizarre. Why would a demon put so much care into preserving a worn, threadbare blanket for a child?

Shinobu exhales softly through her nose and kneels beside the demon, exhaling quietly when she sees her jump.

“Settle down, you’re fine.” Shinobu took an opposite corner of the blanket and copied (Y/n)’s movements. “Aoi should be able to mend it. It’ll be a patch-job, sure, but at least it’ll hold it all together.”

“That would be wonderful… you don’t need to help me with this if you don’t want to. The water is pretty cold.”

“It’s fine, besides, the sooner this is done, the sooner I can go home and the sooner I can give everyone’s poor ears a break.”

“Right…” (Y/n) gave an awkward chuckle, “Sorry about that. She never really was allowed to have any feelings before so I have a hard time trying to discipline her for bad behavior. She was so timid, I didn’t want to scare her when she was just finally starting to have her own voice, you know?”

Oh, Shinobu could relate to that. When Kanao ran off to Final Selection without telling anyone, Shinobu was beside herself. When Kanao came back safe, she wanted to give her a piece of her mind, but she was also so proud that Kanao had made that choice on her own, that she didn’t really know what to say to the girl.

They finished cleaning the blanket and (Y/n) carried the sopping fabric back to the mansion where occasional wails could still be heard.

“I guess you should take it from here…” (Y/n) said once they were reunited with Kanao, who had taken up sporting a couple of pink ear plugs in their absence.

“No,” Shinobu sighed, “You should come in. Giving her the blanket will only take care of half of the problem. She’s been asking about you nonstop.”

“Really, I can see her? Thank you so much—!”

Shinobu grabbed (Y/n) by a horn and lowered her to her level so they were eye to eye.

“But don’t think that I won’t be watching you very carefully, alright?”

“Uh, uh-huh, yes, I completely understand.” (Y/n) nodded awkwardly with her horn still in Shinobu’s grip. After a moment of studious silence, Shinobu let go and allowed (Y/n) to follow her into the room and almost immediately, Sachiko’s wailing stopped… only to be renewed when she realized that both (Y/n) and her special blanket were okay.

She leapt out of the bed despite various protests and jumped into (Y/n)’s arms.

“Onee-san! I thought you were gone forever!” Sachiko blubbered.

“There there…” (Y/n) tried to shush her, “You need to rest, Sachiko.”

“No! What if when I close my eyes, that mean hag takes you away again?”

“Sachiko…” (Y/n) warned, her eyes flickered to Shinobu in an apologetic manner.

“I won’t be taking her away from you again as long as she behaves herself.” Shinobu chimed in. It was time to start trying to burry the hatchet. Yet make no mistake, at the moment she felt even a twinge of danger from the demon, this tentative peace would be over. She crouched down in front of Sachiko and presented her pinky to her. “You have my word.”

“A pinky promise!” Sachiko gasped, almost looking at Shinobu in a new light. “The hag knows about pinky promises!”

Shinobu’s eye twitched subtly, “Yes… so you understand this is a serious promise I am making.”

“Sachiko,” (Y/n) piped up, “In return, I want you to promise Kocho-san that you will be a polite houseguest. That means no name calling and no screaming when you don’t get your way, understand?”

“But…”

“No buts, it’s time to make up. You have to remember that I’m a scary monster so it only makes sense that Kocho-san would act the way she did.”

Shinobu almost wanted to refute that point. She hardly found (Y/n) scary at all. However, she just wanted to focus on sealing this deal and finally, finally get to go to sleep.

“Okay… fine.” Sachiko pouted, looking Shinobu in the eye again before she hooked their pinkies together, sealing their promises.

***

How could a demon be so sweet and gentle? Shinobu wondered to herself for not the first time since Sachiko and by extension, (Y/n), joined the mansion’s residents several months ago.

Shinobu watched from the herb garden as Sachiko ran back to the shaded engawa, her hands full of dandelions. Sachiko deposited one handful into (Y/n)’s lap, the other on the floor in front of her. Shinobu wondered what they would make, crowns, rings, bracelets, all fair game.

She felt her cheeks warm, not from the gentle sun shining down from above, but from seeing (Y/n)’s fanged smile as she oh so slowly and patiently showed Sachiko how to tie the stems into knots for probably hundredth time since the little yellow weeds began popping up earlier that spring.

Oh to hell with it, weeding the garden could wait. Shinobu surely earned a little break, right? Sachiko already took care of most of it anyway with her dandelion picking. It was a wonder that she managed to find any at all since it seemed that she was always picking them as soon as they would pop up.

“Hello, Kocho-san.” (Y/n) aimed that sweet, fanged smile at her and she felt her knees go a little weak. “We aren’t disturbing your gardening, are we?”

“Not at all, and please, (Y/n), I told you to call me Shinobu, remember?”

“Right, sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Just relax.” Shinobu teased, bumping (Y/n)’s shoulder with her own as they sat side by side. The simple contact made both of their hearts flutter.

“Look what I made!” Sachiko presented Shinobu with a patch of woven dandelions. “I’m gonna give this to Nezuko. It’s a little pillow.”

“That’s very thoughtful, Sachiko.” Shinobu praised, though it was certainly too small a pillow for even Nezuko to use effectivley.

She was fortunate and thankful that Sachiko had forgiven her for their rough beginnings. It took time to really earn her trust and respect, but once Sachiko started feeling comfortable, it was all water under the bridge. Though there were times when she could still be wary of Shinobu’s intentions with her adoptive demon sister. Which admittedly left Shinobu more than a bit chagrined, especially when she was admittedly trying to put the moves on (Y/n) rather than threaten her existence these days.

Fortunately or unfortunately, neither had seemed to catch on to that fact. She would need to step it up.

“And what are you making, (Y/n)?” Shinobu asked, brushing their shoulders together again.

“Oh, um,” (Y/n) finally looked down at her hands. Truthfully, she had been a little too busy trying to steal glances at Shinobu in the garden to really pay attention to what she was doing. Her heart spasmed as she realized she had been putting together a ring during her mindless weaving. “Just a simple ring.” She said, trying her best to sound casual.

“That’s cute, planning on giving it to someone?” Shinobu teased.

“Well…”

“Aw!”

Shinobu and (Y/n)’s attention were brought back to Sachiko, one of her twin buns had unraveled and in her hand was a soft yellow butterfly clip.

“It fell out again.”

“It wouldn’t fall out, if you wouldn’t mess with it.” Shinobu reminded with a smile. She patted her lap and Sachiko quickly sat with her back to Shinobu so she could fix it. “That reminds me…” Shinobu’s eyes slid back to (Y/n)’s face, finding her looking almost guilty, “Where is your clip, (Y/n)? You aren’t wearing it again.”

“You know… it’s just too nice and I’m afraid I’ll break it.”

“You seem plenty gentle when dealing with those dandelions.” Shinobu pointed out.

“Well…”

“You’re a resident of the Butterfly Estate, so you should look the part, don’t you think?”

“It just, it doesn’t look right on me, you know? It’s so pretty and delicate and I’m so… not.” (Y/n) was intimately aware of how frightening she looked to the average person. Horns, claws, fangs and burning eyes… wearing such a pin would look more ironic than a statement of belonging. (Y/n) had not expected Shinobu to look so serious for stating what she thought was the obvious.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, (Y/n).” Shinobu stated, “You are very pretty, bewitchingly so, and though not physically delicate, I did see you cry over that perfectly healthy kitten that Kanroji-san brought over. On top of that, I picked a color with the intent that it would compliment you. Are you really going to deny me the pleasure of seeing the completed artwork?”

“That wasn’t my intention!” (Y/n) could feel her skin becoming warmer.

“Then go retrieve it.“ Shinobu smiled almost menacingly, softening when watching (Y/n) bolt inside.

(Y/n) came back to the engawa as fast as she could and gave the delicate pin to Shinobu. Sachiko watched thoughtfully as Shinobu placed the pin in such a way that she new (Y/n) would be comfortable and happy with it.

“There, just as pretty as I imagined.” Shinobu smiled. “And you know I’m always right, so it’s obviously true.”

“Yeah…” (Y/n) shared a bashful smile of her own, still staying close to Shinobu even after the pin was secured.

“If you’re gonna kiss, I’m gonna leave.” Sachiko’s nose scrunched up.

“Huh?!” (Y/n) squawked, “Sachiko! Why would you say that? We’re just talking!”

“For now,” Shinobu said mischievously, moving her face closer to (Y/n)’s, “uh oh… I’m getting closer…”

“Ewwww!” Sachiko made a few fake gaging noises as she ran back inside with her handful of dandelions, ignoring (Y/n)’s protests.

“Why did you say that?” The demon’s face buzzed with heat, “She’s going to give the rumor mill around here a field day! Everyone’s going to think that we’re— you know…!”

“I don’t see any issue with a rumor like that.” Shinobu spoke casually, “In fact, it would be even better if it was true. What do you say,” Shinobu leaned in even closer, “will you meet me in the middle?”

(Y/n)’s mouth gaped like a fish for a moment, her eyes flicking between Shinobu’s lips and eyes as if trying to ask if she really meant it before nodding and carefully closing the gap, making sure her fangs didn’t cause too much trouble when their lips finally met.

#demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer oneshots #kny oneshots #shinobu x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #shinobu kochou x reader #requests #melisuh123

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graceofagodswrath · 2 months

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Humans are Feral: Part 3

This is actually a continuation of the first part, but in a different scenario. I wanted to write a story with the idea of a human pack-bonding to an alien and going feral after seeing the alien hurt. It would a be a moment where aliens realize that while humans are dangerous, this kind of loyalty they can have for anyone or thing is a rarity and should be respected.

I also wanted to play around with the ideas of aliens reacting to human courtship. I’ve seen lots of headcannons and ideas as to how aliens may react to our openness when it comes to romantic relationships. Aka alien/monster fuckers. I hate you all because I am one of you.

So I decided to mix both and go with the scenario: what if a human’s alien S/O was threatened and hurt? I love the cliche of people going rabid after a loved one is hurt, it’s so nice to see humans actually caring for each other in this day and age.

WARNINGS - Implications of sexual trafficking, death, and violence.

Inter-species relationships were not an uncommon thing. However, they were met with equal skepticism and hate as they were welcome.

When humans joined the mix of races in the outer systems, it threw off those with prejudices against such relationships. While the young race was not without it it’s own trivial prejudices, the openness at which they had to forming lifepairs with non-human beings was unexpected. As humans branched out and their strange reputation became more than simple youngling stories, another reputation began to rise. That was of humans as life-mates.

While many still spurned others for finding partners outside their races, among the community it was seen as a huge honor to have a human as a life-mate. They were deemed high-maintenance and challenging to match, yet their loyalty held no bounds.

It wasn’t long before this became a small joke among the humans. They knew their species, and the idea the outer races had of them as lovers was too good not to joke about.

While they could not quell the rising rumors and fantastical stories surrounding their species, as much as it annoyed some, others took it in stride.

Quil’ian was a xicali of the dexi-10 planetary system, from the jungle planet Huvarrh. Stunningly large beasts, xicalis resembled bipedal humanoids with two pairs of arms and four fingered hands. Smooth, iridescent skin emblazoned with unique patterns covered their bodies. In dark spaces they often glowed with their own soft bioluminescence. Two large eyes of various dappled shades sat on either side of their flat noses. Scientists theorized that humans and xicalis must have had a similar evolutionary path from an ancestor of ape-like characteristics. But where humans remained in the ground, xicalis remained in the trees, their strong arms capable of immense strength for swinging from branch to branch.

Quil’ian was such a xicali. His skin shimmered a cerulean blue so deep it rivaled the gemstones of Farcauv. His eyes were pools of amber, one his partner said reminded them of a sweet syrup called honey from their home.

Quil’ian’s life partner was a human named Amira. She was a well-respected starship engineer from the eastern reaches of the Terran homeworld. Black hair, sun-darkened skin and eyes the color of rich garden soil. She had a laugh like the singing bird calls of his homeworld, and soft words of whispered sweetness that made his legs weak. She was the light of Quil’ian’s life.

When they were about in public and chose to display their affections, it more than often drew side glances. Scathing looks. Jealousy. Yearning. Disgust. They paid no mind.

They found work together, traveling to distant worlds and exploring the nether reaches of the universe. Amira would be hired on as an engineer for a ship, while Quil’ian would work as a docker, using his natural xicali strength to move shipments and ship parts. They made quite the pair for any employer.

It was on such a job, on the freelancer starship Queen Diogovay, they found themselves in a dangerous situation. Alien Marauders had attacked, demanding all shipment and valuable items. And the captain was going to let them have it. They weren't going to risk violence and an injured crew. Until the marauders realized there were humans aboard.

Ever since humans had entered the galactum, the trafficking industry boomed. The want for humans for servitude, experimentation, and especially sexual uses made humans beyond valuable. One pretty Terran could make over several billion kronor.

Upon the Queen Diogovay there were five human crew members, including Amira. And the marauders wanted every one of them. When the pirates first grabbed hold of the ship, three of the humans disappeared while Amira and Sam stayed with the crew to try to keep the trespassers at bay.

This proved to be of no use, as the bastards pushed their way past the barriers and blood was spilled without hesitation. Quil’ian made a split second decision and grabbed both Amira and Sam, throwing the pilot over his shoulders and his mate safely in his secondary arms. Then they were booking it down the hallway.

Quil’ian had it in his head to reach one of the evac pods before the pirates caught up to them. The Captain had been against using them to try to keep the ship and goods from the marauders, but they were most likely dead now, the orders void. And Quil’ian had decided from the start his mate was his first priority.

He was several turns from the pods when a kalik hound rounded the corner and slammed into them full force. A creature commonly used for violence, it opened its massive jaws and jumped at the xicali. Pain tore its way up Quil’ian’s leg, and he couldn’t think past the feeling of the hound’s fangs tearing his calf apart and Amira screeching like a jakvy bird. Then the feeling of the hound’s fangs disappeared as soon as they sunk in.

Quil’ian opened his eyes to see Amira atop the hound, arms wrapped around its throat as she attempted to choke it into submission. Sam had a metal pipe in their hands and was slamming into the hound’s face. The two were snarling and screaming right back at the alien dog, enough fury in their eyes to rival the violent creature. And Quil’ian watched as his mate tipped her head back and sunk her own teeth into the soft flesh of the beast’s neck.

It screamed, and Sam shoved the metal pipe down its throat, flesh tearing as the pole exited through the underside of its jugular. It fell to the ground thrashing, but the two humans doubled down in their efforts until the beast stilled. Quil’ian had never witnessed a hound fall so easily, the beasts known for their dexterity.

Then Amira was by his side, her mouth covered in the hound’s orange blood. Her hands made quick work of the sweatshirt she was wearing, tearing it into a single strip to wrap around the massacre that was the xicali’s leg. Her hands were gentle, a drastic change from the viciousness he just witnessed. The xicali stared at her for a moment, then concluded he would have been just as violent had the beast wrapped its jaws around her. If anything, a shiver went up his spine, one that was not unpleasant, at the realization that his human mate was willing to go to such drastic measures to protect him.

When the binding was done, Amira and Sam did their best to haul Quil’ian to his feet, the xicali towering above them. They made their way to the evac pods, spurred on by the distant yells and screeches from the marauders. It was both surprising and not when they got there and found the three other humans preparing the pods. One of them, Kaeveon, immediately went to their aid, muttering about the captain being a “fucking fool” and how they should have jumped as soon as the pirates boarded.

But all went calm as they entered the pod. The pirates were apparently too busy searching the entire Queen Diogovay for the missing humans to consider that they were already gone. In moments they were out in deep space, heading to the nearest station they could take refuge at. Amira was tucked into Quil’ian’s side for the whole duration, the couple refusing to let the other go. They treated the xicali’s injury with the med kit in the pod. It was enough the keep the woman from fussing over him too much, though her mate admitted to himself that he was rather basking in her concerned care.

Perhaps, after this incident, Quil’ian would try to convince her to settle somewhere. Maybe back on his home planet, in a small home in the trees, with a view she would love.

I’m sorry this took forever to put out. Not my best work since I started it months ago and lost the motivation until now. My mental health hasn’t been the best these pst few months, but we’re on the up, and writing this has definitely put some inspiration back on the table. Hope y’all enjoy this smaller snippet. And I really like the possibilities with Quil’ian and Amira, so maybe I’ll have some more stories starring them.

#humans are space orcs #humans are crazy #humans are space australians #humans are deathworlders #humans are weird #my writing #shower thoughts #humans are feral series

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bg-brainrot · 2 months

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As @cosmicchocomuffin suggested!

Which class/subclass each BG3 character would play in D&D (with a little explanation):

Astarion: Draconic Sorcerer - he would pick a character that comes with power innately, no god, no pact, no strings attached, and he would pick draconic for the eventual flight. Also he would want a high Cha character so that he can attempt to be the face of the party.

Gale: Artillerist Artificer - he would pick another Int based class of course, and, as for Artillerist, he still enjoys being useful, so he'd like the fire power this subclass affords. He would take time every day to ensure his infusions are prepared for the day, not allowing the party to proceed without them.

Karlach: Circle of the Moon Druid - she loves animals and nature and would love to transform into them, but wouldn't want to deal with all of those pesky spells, hence the Circle of the Moon. She would definitely be the cause of half of the chaotic druid wildshape memes online.

Lae'zel: Way of the Astral Self Monk - she would pick monk because they're respected martial warriors, pick the subclass because of its potential to reach enlightenment. But to the surprise of no one, she actually gets really into her character to the point of drawing a blade on the DM (Withers).

Shadowheart: Assassin Rogue - the classic lone wolf class and given all of her Sharran training, she would pick this subclass for the ease of roleplay it offers, with its disguise and mimicry. She starts out aloof, but quickly divulges the entire 12-page backstory she created for her character.

Wyll: Monster Slayer Ranger - he heard people looked down on rangers and decided to give them a chance, then he saw Monster Slayer was an option and knew he picked right. The actual face of the party, simply because he's the only one capable of staying on track-- however, put him in front of a cool monster and you've lost him too.

Non-Origins:

Halsin: Nature Domain Cleric - as someone who loves to help others, he would pick a class with a greater lean to the healing side of magic and with a bit of the same druid utility, then pick the subclass to still have that connection to nature. He will happily go along with whatever the party wants to do, and has ended up in jail a few times for it.

Minthara: Order of the Profane Soul Blood Hunter - she would love a class that's willing to go to any extent to defeat their enemies, like a blood hunter, and the order of the Profane Soul just cranks that up all the more. She would be the classic murder hobo of the group if left unchecked, but she will back off when the rewards are good enough.

Jaheira: Battle Master Fighter - she would go for a classic, reliable class like fighter, with a subclass that utilizes her battle knowledge like Battle Master. She is definitely a guest player, who the DM taps in for a difficult boss fight or arc, so she somehow still ends up the mentor figure in the game.

Minsc: Path of the Beast Barbarian - he wouldn't play something too complicated, hence the Barbarian, and he would love to understand Boo better, so he'd pick the subclass for the Beast abilities that come with this subclass. He would never quite know what he's doing, but makes the best accidental one liners at the table so no one minds helping.

Disclaimer: I only picked stuff I at least have the sourcebooks for. While some extra stuff looked cool, I wasn't familiar enough to get the vibes properly.

#bg3 #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #gale #karlach #lae'zel #shadowheart #wyll #halsin #minthara #jaheira #minsc #dnd #dungeons and dragons #dnd classes #this was fun to do hehe #i think they would never get past level 5 but they have a good time #withers tpks them when he gets bored of it

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cuubism · 1 year

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a time of need

Hob’s having what he’d thought would be an easy Sunday, puttering around the house catching up on chores and rest, when the worst headache he’s ever had splits down the middle of his skull.

It’s worse, even, than the time he’d taken an actual cleaver to the forehead, and woken up two days later still unable to see out of one eye. Hob’s hands shake and he barely manages to make it to the couch before he collapses. He shuts his eyes in agony and—

--then he’s in the Dreaming. So fast, between one blink and the next. And he knows, instinctively, that he was called here, by Dream or by the Dreaming itself. But he’s never been called like that, with a call full of such pain.

He staggers to his feet in the throne room. The sky high overhead, usually a placid field of stars, is swirling with red star matter, like the Dreaming has fallen into the heart of a nebula. It casts a crimson sheen over everything.

Lucienne is hurrying towards him, steps clicking sharply on the marble floor. “Hob? You should not be here. Lord Morpheus has closed off the heart of the Dreaming.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t intentional.” Hob takes in the deep creases in her expression as she reaches him. “What’s going on?”

“We are under attack.” She squeezes his arm, imploring. “You must go.”

“Under attack? What, Hell?” Hob remembers Dream mentioning it had happened before.

Lucienne shakes her head. “No. I do not know the details.”

A cavernous boom! echoes through the hall, shaking the walls. Lightning streaks across the sky, jagged scars that leave harsh afterimages in Hob’s vision. He pales at the sound. “Is he taking them on – whoever they are – by himself?”

“The dreams and nightmares are helping as best suits this kind of fight. But you must go.”

Hob shakes his head. “No, he called me for a reason. Where is he?”

“Hob—”

“Lucienne. Please.”

She relents, still troubled. “He is outside the palace gates, I know not precisely where. You will be drawn to the nexus of his power, I am sure.”

That’s good enough for Hob. He runs down the palace steps and across the bridge to the gates, reaching them much faster than he thinks should probably be reasonable, but then again he is in the Dreaming. The gates open to let him out, and then clank shut behind him.

The feeling of power is much stronger out here, as if the palace and its grounds had been held in a protective bubble. Lucienne was right about Dream’s power drawing him in; Hob finds him easily, standing at the bank of a river that seems to now be flowing with lava instead of water, and he’s just— just surrounded by… creatures.

Hob can’t define them any better than creatures, they are amorphous and shifting, claws and teeth and legs and wings emerging then disappearing again. He wonders why they haven’t gone to flank the palace, attack from all sides, before realizing that just as Dream’s power has drawn Hob in, it is also drawing the creatures to him. Making him the only target.

He isn’t carrying a weapon or even wearing armor or anything, and Hob’s heart pounds as he runs to him, and—

A creature leaps for Dream’s throat. Dream reaches into the air – into a dream? – his arm disappearing, yanks, and pulls a ribbon of flames straight through the creature’s body, throwing it out across the landscape. Grass scorches, and the other beasts in the fire’s path screech.

Another is leaping at his back, hundreds of teeth appearing from the shrouded mass of it in midair. Hob’s about to shout a warning, but no need. Dream turns, flings open his coat. The creature barrels in and falls into the swirling galaxies in the lining, its shriek cutting off sharply.

More run for him. Dream disappears into a dream, then reappears seconds later, a good twenty meters from where he’d been.

On the edge of a cliff.

A cliff which the beasts that charge for him hurtle off of, a cliff which was definitely not there before, because Dream brought it with him from the dream, mother of God, how is Hob even supposed to help here at all?

Well, fuck it. He’s got to try, doesn’t he?

As soon as he thinks it, there’s a sword in his hand. Dream doesn’t make note of his presence, but he must know Hob’s there, mustn’t he? Dream called him there, though God knows why.

Regardless, the creatures are so focused on Dream that Hob is able to take out two of them with his blade before they even notice he’s there.

They don’t… die, in the way he’d expect. They sort of scream and explode into dust, drifting off in the wind. He hopes they aren’t just going to reform or something.

“You are creatures of warmth,” Hob hears Dream say, across the field, to the rest of the creatures. It seems like there are more, not less, like they’re multiplying. God. “Please enjoy my warmest hospitality.”

A vicious blizzard descends on them.

Snow whips in wild gusts across the landscape, ice biting Hob’s cheeks. He can’t see Dream very well anymore. He hears a splash and a creature howling, and imagines Dream must have pulled a frozen lake from a dream about ice skating, or perhaps from a nightmare about drowning.

He makes his way towards Dream, determined to stay by him so he has someone at his back, even if that someone is Hob, whose powers here are meager in comparison to Dream’s.

He finds creatures in the snow and slaughters them, all of his sword work from decades past coming back to him. They come at him with fangs and claws and tails bristling with spines, but Hob isn’t afraid. His desperation to keep Dream safe is far more powerful than that.

Irrational, to want to keep Dream safe in the Dreaming. But he feels it all the same.

“This is my realm,” he hears Dream growl from somewhere in the storm, voice reverberating despite the howling wind. “It bends to my wishes. But you? Let us see how you like the dark.”

And he turns off the sun.

The Dreaming is plunged into absolute, pure darkness the likes of which Hob has never seen. There’s no moon, no stars. Hob blinks and throws his hands out, trying to balance.

And then realizes…

He can see.

Somehow. Not with his eyes, quite. But with some kind of direction at the back of his head, like the Dreaming itself is guiding him. Neat, that. Also quite likely to drive him mad if it lasts for any amount of time.

He follows the direction of Dream’s voice and finally gets close enough to see him again. There are still so many damn creatures, where are they even coming from? They are blundering now, in the dark, but must have other senses for they’re still managing to, eventually, turn for Dream. Hob watches him turn the ground beneath a group of them into quicksand. They scream and flail as they sink.

“Do you not tire?” Dream asks, idly. “Do you not relent? That is disappointing, for I tire. Of gravity, in particular.”

The realm turns upside down.

Hob’s feet stay planted on the grass as his brain spins wildly to reorient itself, but the creatures aren’t so lucky. They go tumbling down – or up? – into the air, screaming. Hob wonders if Dream’s just accidentally done the same to the entire realm, but no— looking behind him, he can see the core of the Dreaming, the palace, all the residences, still oriented the same way. Opposite to them. What in--?

Maintaining two sets of opposing gravities at once seems to be costing Dream. His chest heaves. He flips them back over again, pushing his sweaty hair back from his face. The sun pops back up into the sky, too, which is… Hob decides to interrogate it later and just be grateful for the light.

“Dream!” Hob calls, as soon as his dizziness subsides.

Dream spins to him, seeming startled. “Hob?”

So then he didn’t realize Hob was there, at least not consciously. By the time Hob reaches his side, the sword has dissolved from his grasp. “Fuck. That was… insane. Are you okay?”

Dream looks at him, brow furrowed. The rushing winter winds die down as their eyes meet, leaving drifts of snow behind. “Why are you here? You should not be here, it is not safe. I have closed off the heart of the Dreaming. How?”

“You… called me?” Hob says. “I think.”

Dream’s frown deepens. “I do not… recall. Regardless, you must go. The Dreaming is not safe at present.”

“Why? Isn’t the fight over?”

“No.” Dream looks out at the horizon. A wave of sickly, mixed colors is growing there, like oil spreading across the sky. “The real fight has yet to begin.”

“What? What about all those creatures?”

“Those were scouts. Hunting dogs.” Dream huffs. “Their masters thought perhaps they would get lucky and catch me unawares, not have to dirty their hands. Foolish. They will pay for it.”

Hob looks around, horrified, as that oil keeps spreading upward from the horizon. With it, a wave of what Hob can only describe as grayscale follows across the landscape. Color leaches out of everything and disappears. Dream watches this, expression tight but measured, following the arc of the spread.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” Hob asks.

“Let them expend their energy. Color is immaterial, I will restore it later.”

“Lure them into complacency?” Hob guesses, faint.

Dream nods. He looks even more dramatic with no warmth to his skin, all stark black and white lines.

“What are they? The invaders?” Hob asks.

Dream hums. “The closest waking world corollary would be… bacteria. It is a sickness, of sorts. They would infect and devour us.”

Hob means to say something intelligent but what comes out of his mouth is, “Bacteria have hunting dogs?”

“Well, they hardly have teeth of their own,” says Dream.

Hob shakes his head, as if that could possibly help to clear it. “And you’re going to fight these things on your own?”

“My dreams and nightmares are already helping me by letting me pull from them, so that I do not have to create everything from scratch,” says Dream. He watches as the oil spill completes its transit of the sky. The only color now is the swirling above them. “This is not a fight of physical prowess. You must leave.”

“I can’t die, Dream.”

“I would not see your mind shredded on my behalf.”

“Is that going to happen if the Dreaming doesn’t fall?”

Dream frowns. “Not… likely. And the Dreaming will not fall. I will not let it.”

“Then it’s settled,” Hob says.

Dream sighs. “You are monumentally stubborn.”

“That’s what got me this far in the first place. Can’t stop now.”

That pulls a tiny smile from Dream. “No. I suppose not.”

A shudder runs through the landscape, vibrating under Hob’s feet. Then another, like the ground itself is shivering. Hob shifts to maintain his balance, as he might once have on the deck of a ship. Dream doesn’t move at all, like the shivers travel right through him.

The air goes hot, then cold, then blazingly hot again, struggling with itself. The snow around them starts to steam. Dream’s jaw clenches, and the temperature drops violently once again, below freezing. Hob’s breath fogs in the air.

Dream is glaring at the horizon. “Stay present,” he tells Hob, in the tone one might use to call, On your guard!

Never bring a sword to a battle of minds, Hob thinks deliriously. His blade hasn’t rematerialized, and it would be useless anyway. Hob himself feels useless, but like hell will he leave Dream’s side.

“How did they even get in?” he asks.

“The boundaries of the Dreaming are porous to permit the passage of dreamers,” says Dream. “Unsavory things sometimes slip in as well.”

“Often?”

Dream’s eyes glint. “Only when enough time has passed that the folly in doing so has been forgotten.”

It’s in moments like this that Hob really thinks about how old Dream is. It’s easier to conceptualize his age in this way, funnily enough. An ancient lord once again protecting his kingdom from invaders is something Hob’s mind can grasp, even if the timescale in this case is absurdly long.

“Going to teach them a lesson, then?”

Dream smiles, slow and predatory; Hob sees in it the nightmare of every prey animal that has ever dashed through a dark forest, fleeing the gleaming of teeth. “Oh, yes.”

He closes his eyes. His fingers flutter at his side, like he’s plucking the strings of an invisible harp. Snow lifts in swirls around them, though there’s no longer any wind. Another shiver runs through the ground.

“What are you going to do?” Hob asks, at a whisper. He doesn’t know why he whispers; it just seems right in the face of the approaching power storm.

“There are known ways to destroy a waking world bacterium,” Dream says. His eyes are still shut, brow furrowed in concentration. “Burn it out, freeze it out. Take away its sustenance. Make the environment unsustainable for it. But bacteria that feasts on dream matter cannot be destroyed by something as simple as temperature; the temperature is, after all, a part of the Dreaming itself. It can gorge itself on the heat and cold as easily as on anything else.”

“So what will you do, then?” Hob asks.

Dream’s lips quirk up in a smug smile. “I am the Dreaming,” he says, not actually answering the question. “They cannot have me. If they insist on having me, then I will simply not exist at all.”

Before Hob can so much as say wait!, Dream's power screams into being around them more tangibly than Hob’s ever felt it, the air charging up with electricity, the fabric of the realm warbling around them. His ears pop with the pressure change, a whine pitching higher and higher in the atmosphere and making him wince, and Dream’s form fuzzes in and out like TV static.

Dream’s hands rise at his sides like he’s finding his balance in the shifting world around them, or perhaps conducting the dreams in an invisible orchestra. He hums, pleased with whatever he can feel rumbling through his power. Then he presses his hands outward.

Hob… doesn’t know exactly what happens, then.

It’s like everything blinks out, then back on again, like turning on and off a light switch. It’s so quick his body doesn’t even react until several seconds later, when a tremor of unease shivers up his spine. For it wasn’t like before, when Dream had blacked out the sun – Hob would swear that in that millisecond of darkness he felt nothing, not the ground under his feet, or the air he was breathing, or his own clothes against his skin. He’s not even sure he existed in that moment.

Everything around him is exactly the same, except that those threads of oily color circling the sky have disappeared. Just like that, gone, the bacteria dead, or at least banished, and Hob has no idea what Dream even did.

Everything in the Dreaming looks the exact same--

--except Dream.

Dream looks like he tumbled down a cliff then ran ten kilometers through bramble bushes. His hair is falling in clumps over his forehead, his long coat torn, his forehead prickling with sweat. His nose is bleeding, the red of it shockingly bright as color leeches back into the gray landscape, though he pays it no mind as it trickles over his lips. His hands are shaking where he holds them out, fingers now closed into fists.

“Any of you who have survived,” he snarls, glaring up at the sky, presumably speaking to the remaining bacteria, “carry a message home to your people. Enter my realm again, touch a single one of its inhabitants, and I will personally unmake your entire species. Do not test me.”

Is unmaking a species even in Dream’s power? Hob wouldn’t have thought so, but he wouldn’t care to test that theory right now, were he the species in question.

Dream wavers, then, and Hob just barely manages to lurch forward fast enough to catch him as he falls. He goes to his knees in the snow, and Dream collapses against him, shaking horribly. He coughs, a horrible, wet sound, and blood spatters Hob’s shirt.

Hob’s heart jumps into his throat. “ Dream —” He tries to get him down onto his side, but Dream clenches his hands weakly in Hob’s shirt.

“I will be—” he starts, and is cut off by more coughing, blood dripping from his lips. “Fine, in—” Another spasm of coughing. A tremor shakes violently through him.

“Shhh.” Hob holds him close. “I got you.”

Dream heaves for breath. He feels feverishly hot, now, sweating and shivering. “What the hell did you even do? ” Hob asks, running a hand over his back, a bit frantically.

“I unmade the Dreaming,” Dream says, each word a wheeze, “ripped it back into-- into its original grains of sand. Thus. Expelling the bacteria. Into the void that surrounds us, where it-- cannot survive. And then I put- put the Dreaming back, exactly as it was. It must--” he wipes blood from his mouth with a shaking hand, only succeeding in smearing it all over his cheek-- “must be done in an instant. To avoid causing harm.”

“What?” Hob breathes, a vast understatement for the horror and awe that he feels. “Dream, what?”

“Breaking my ruby gave-- gave me back power I hadn’t-- hadn’t seen in eons.” He coughs once, hard, spitting up more blood onto Hob’s shirt. “Nevertheless, I may be… down here for a while.”

Hob smoothes a hand over his shivering chest. “It doesn’t seem like it’s avoided causing harm.”

“Causing no- no damage is impossible, but I managed to contain it within-” he wheezes-- “within my- aspect- and not the rest of the Dreaming.”

“I didn’t even know you could bleed,” Hob says faintly. It’s more disconcerting than feeling the world unravel around him to see Dream shaking and coughing up blood. He’s heard that Dream was weakened when he first escaped his long imprisonment, before he’d recovered his tools, but this is on another level.

“Usually, I cannot,” says Dream, which doesn’t help at all.

“Alright, let’s get you down, then.” Hob maneuvers Dream to lie on his side on the ground. Dream rests his head in Hob’s lap, eyelids fluttering. Around them, the world seems to waver, and then stabilizes again.

Dream feels it, too, and says, “Worry not. The realm is stable. It is merely. Reacting to me.”

“My concern’s really you right now, love,” Hob says, running a hand through Dream’s hair. “Though it’s good the place isn’t going to collapse.”

Dream hums at his touch, closing his eyes. His breathing’s evened out, but it doesn’t seem like he’ll be getting back up under his own muster anytime soon.

It’s not long before footsteps crunch in the snow behind them, wingbeats by their side. “My lord!”

“Lucienne.” Dream’s voice is a low rumble against Hob’s thigh. “Matthew.”

“Boss!” Matthew lands on the ground beside them, Lucienne reaching them a few moments after. Matthew’s gaze catches on the blood on Hob’s shirt and he says, “You hurt, Hob?”

Hob shakes his head and nods toward Dream. Matthew squawks in alarm, feathers puffing up, and flies up to land on Dream’s shoulder, nudging at his hair with his beak.

“I am fine, Matthew,” Dream says without opening his eyes. It’s somewhat unconvincing considering how hoarse his voice comes out, and the fact that one of his ears is now bleeding.

Hob is… fairly convinced that he will be fine, once he’s rested. Fairly.

“Just put himself through the ringer, that’s all,” he says, wiping the blood that’s trailing from Dream’s ear away with his sleeve. “We’ll go home, get some food in you, have a nice bath, and get some rest, hm?”

Dream hums in agreement. “Lucienne, how fare the dreams?”

“Everyone is frightened, but safe,” she reports, then adds, sounding fond, “They were a bit confused by the sun going out.”

“Yeah, that was an interesting party trick,” Hob agrees, and Dream chuckles.

It’s still bloody cold out here, post-blizzard. Hob doesn’t trust Dream’s usual I don’t feel temperatures excuse when he’s so drained of power, so ripped apart.

He gathers Dream up in his arms again, wrapping his coat tighter around him. “Let’s get you in from the cold.”

“So… we’re just not gonna talk about that moment when we all went to the shadow realm, then,” Matthew caws as Hob gets to his feet, lifting Dream up with him. “Do I want to know what that was?”

“Probably not,” Hob tells him, as Dream says, “Hob Gadling, I am capable of walking.”

“Uh-huh,” Hob says with no confidence. “Sure, love. Just indulge me. Consider it some kind of foreplay for later, if it makes you feel better.”

Matthew mutters, “Ick,” but Dream smiles and relents.

“Much later,” Hob warns him. “Mister Coughing-Up-Blood.”

Dream rolls his eyes, but allows Hob to carry him.

Fortunately, it’s not far – the Dreaming transports them quickly back to the palace, though with less certainty in the movement than usual. “Lucienne,” Dream says as Hob divests him of his long coat and lays him in his bed. He looks like he’s about to try to pop back up, and Hob presses a hand to his shoulder, subtly keeping him down. “Please instruct everyone to let me know immediately if they find anything awry. The realm is cleansed, but I do not like to take chances.”

She inclines her head in understanding, casting a small smile in Hob’s direction, too, for good measure. Presumably for his efforts in keeping Dream lying down.

Matthew lands on Dream’s knee. “Seriously, boss, you good? I don’t know what was going on exactly, but whatever it was felt… not great.”

“I am ‘good,’” Dream confirms. “Some amount of damage is usually sustained in fighting off an illness, is it not?”

“If that’s how you want to put it,” Matthew says.

“I’ll look after him,” Hob reassures them both.

They take their leave then, Matthew giving Hob a little salute with his wing, and then Hob and Dream are alone. Hob slips Dream’s boots off, laying a blanket over him, then sits beside him on the bed, resting a hand on his chest. “Are you feeling any better?” he asks. “You have to let me know if it gets worse, I’m dead serious, Dream.”

“I’m not certain what weight that carries when you cannot die,” Dream says.

Hob raises an eyebrow. “Try it and find out. Now, still.”

He finds a damp cloth – thanks, Dreaming – and starts wiping the blood from Dream’s lips, and his hands.

“I see now why the Dreaming called you here,” Dream muses. “No one else would dare speak to me in this manner.”

“The Dreaming called me?”

“I did not. Not intentionally. I would not have brought you into such a battle.”

“Well, I wasn’t much help anyway,” Hob observes. He tips Dream’s head up and gets him to drink some water, likewise manifested by the Dreaming. “You did all the work with your world-bending powers.”

“Perhaps you are a reward,” Dream suggests as Hob lets him lie back down. He finds Hob’s hand and kisses his fingertips.

“Oh, yeah? A prize for your heroism?”

Dream tugs on his arm. Hob slips off his own shoes and discards his blood-splattered shirt, and obediently lies down beside him, gathering him in his arms. Dream cuddles up to him, giving a pleased hum, resting his head on Hob’s shoulder. “A comfort.”

Hob runs a hand through his hair and kisses his forehead. He still can't help but worry a bit, after everything he saw Dream do, but it's good to see him feeling more comfortable. “Sweet thing. You were very brave. Clever, too.”

“You do not have to praise me for performing my function,” Dream grumbles.

“Yeah, but you love it.”

Dream mutters again under his breath, but doesn’t move away. Hob squeezes him tighter, and he softens again.

“Get some rest, now,” Hob tells him.

“You will stay?”

“Course. Think I’ll abandon my king in his time of need?”

Dream hums, evidently pleased.

“But am I going to wake up with a terrible hangover after this?” Hob asks. “Whatever the Dreaming did to summon me felt like getting hit over the head with a pickaxe.”

“Maybe,” Dream says, sounding only the slightest bit chagrined about it. “It had to pull you through the barrier I had constructed.”

He tucks his nose against Hob’s throat, snuggling closer, and Hob just sighs, defeated. “Worth it, to be here for you,” he admits, and feels Dream smile.

#it's finishing up almost finished fics week apparently #my writing #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling

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