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shadesoflsk · 5 months

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BLANCA NAVIDAD

pairing: leon kennedy x fem reader.

summary: Leon never liked Christmas. Memories of him being taken away from his parents and countless missions made him a bitter man. However, he wouldn't have guessed that one day, he would be placing Christmas stockings with a wife and a little bundle of joy next to him.

warnings: Mostly fluff, dad leon, mentions of injuries, alcohol problems, Leon being an orphan, mild hurt (nothing bad I swear) so cheesy and sappy.

"to give up one's very self – to think only of others – how to bring the greatest happiness to others – that is the true meaning of Christmas."

The sounds of boxes being moved filled your living room. It’s the first week of December, and both of you have postponed the task of adorning your house with Christmas stuff until now. Between Leon’s job and your newfound activity (taking care of your 1 year old daughter) it’s been nearly impossible to find enough time to dedicate yourself to this special holiday.

Leon had told you it was more than okay if you wanted to do it by yourself. He knew how much you love this holiday. And ever since halloween ended, you found yourself eager to buy even more stuff to fill your home with. Nonetheless, you waited for your husband. There was no way you would let this opportunity slip away.

And, as you walked into the living room carrying a box albeit Leon’s constant bickering about how you shouldn’t lift heavy things, your heart melted at the sight of Leon placing a christmas hat on you guys’ daughter, which was too big on her and partially covered her sight.

“Da-da” With the baby on his hip, Leon was once again trying to teach his daughter how to say his “name.” It all started with a simple joke about him being the favorite parent, but now it has turned into a serious situation, at least for him. He wanted his daughter to master the art of speaking before Christmas. Although he has noticed that his little one barely said anything else than babbling nonsense. She was almost there, those bwaaah would turn into dada, he was sure.

She had none of that, though. As soon as Leon started talking, she laughed. As if he was telling her the funniest joke ever. Your daughter had heart eyes for both of you, but you had to admit it – she was definitely a daddy's girl. The way her eyes get so big whenever she sees Leon, and how her tiny fingers wrap around his thumb each time he's feeding her – yeah, she loves her dad.

He was an expert in fatherhood. He had no recollection of ever taking care of kids before. But, as soon as his little girl was born, the father's instincts kicked in. The way her cries filled the hospital room made him want to turn off the world for a second and give his daughter and wife a well-deserved moment of peace.

However, he never thought his life would get so lucky that he would get to experience being a dad. Ever since he was born, he was surrounded by disaster and misfortune. Having to grow up at an orphanage wasn't the most ideal place to mold a child into a perfect human being, but it seems that the little time he had spent with his parents shaped him correctly.

“Ma-ma.” You walked behind Leon and placed a hand on his other hip. Your baby instantly kicked her little feet in excitement for seeing her mom. Maybe she's a mama's girl, too.

“Hey! She was almost saying dada.” Leon feigned disappointment as you tried luring your daughter into saying mama first. This was a competition between you and Leon. Which prize will be having the satisfaction of being the “favorite parent.”

“Yeah of course. My bad.” You chuckled, voice filled with sarcasm knowing that your daughter has been the laziest of babies. Most 1 year old babies already say mama or dad. Or both. Yet this little rascal just likes existing, eating, sleeping, and exploring.

Leon saw you carrying a box and sighed in mild disappointment. You could already hear him saying “I told you not to carry heavy things.” Ever since you recovered from surgery, he has gotten even more doting. Every need of you was met by the second, and you wouldn't complain, but you're still a functional adult who can actually lift boxes.

You remember when things didn't used to be like this. In the past, you weren't instantly devoted and whipped for the man that is now teaching your daughter how to say dada. You remember how your past self leaned over the counter, you were met by an usual reek of alcohol this man had. And, with a witty and drunk smile, he said his usual line.

“Another bottle here.” It was his third one that night. Not his third glass, his third bottle. He was slowly killing his liver and himself by the way kept drowning in this deadly and burning liquid. You had never met him before, but the way his dark blue eyes sometimes shone under the dim light, you knew he once was someone important. Or at least, someone needed.

“That would be your third one tonight.” You stated matter-of-factly. However, Leon didn't miss the way you refused to move and get him his booze.

“Look at that… Smarty knows her numbers. Aren't you so, so clever?” The disdain in his voice had reached your ears. He was never the talkative client, he just spent all of his nights at your bar and drank to his heart's content. You know you shouldn't stick your nose in someone else's business yet you couldn't bear nor allow him to basically kill himself in front of you.

“Now can you please shut up and serve me another bottle.” He groaned as the empty bottle almost fell from the counter. His heavy eyelids almost closing if it wasn't from the fact that after the words he spat, you threw a glass of water to his face.

“You don't fucking talk to me like that.” Your usual warm and easy going self was long forgotten. No matter how many hardships and problems he may have, there was no way you would let him walk all over you like that. “I don't know what fucked up things you have experienced or how many people have betrayed you. But if you have time to drown yourself in this addiction and be mad about it, you also have time to make a change.”

Those words stuck with him. He knew he was being pathetic, Chris, Rebecca, hell even Claire had told him the same thing too. But he felt even more miserable when a random bartender called him out like that. Especially when you just needed to complete your job. Why would someone care? He pays, he gets his booze, repeat. But, you at least cared, even though it was something every rational human would do.

Eventually, his daily dose of booze decreased. You witnessed the small changes in him. Going from three bottles to just one, and to finally a few glasses. You witnessed how his usual dark clothes were replaced with a somewhat more colorful attire which brought out his once dull and empty blue eyes.

His slender frame slowly took form, recovering his muscles which were more visible now. His stubble remained, though. It was like a reminder of his own age – and his now different approach in life. Wiser and more careful with his own decisions. Your words didn't completely change him, but they surely helped him to see his life in another light.

Ultimately, a new Leon set foot in your bar. He was beaten up, his navy blue shirt had some blood spots while his dark brown hair was disheveled. He smelled like sweat and gunpowder. “If you ever need a tour guide in San Francisco let me know.” He said with a charming smile as you moved around your area of work.

“I'll keep that in mind. What can I get you?” You chuckled as you went to retrieve his order. You could already hear him say it.

“Grape juice...”

“And your number.”

Soft whines pulled you back from your trance as your babygirl grips on Leon's shirt. She wipes her face against the fabric. The little one was starting to get fuzzy since nap time had come.

“Oh, someone is sleepy.” He coos, bringing her closer to his chest. Leon takes off the little Christmas hat that was on her head. Immediately, the little one brings her hand to her hair. She has picked up the habit to caress her own hair when falling asleep. Before she even gets to cry, Leon rocks her to sleep. His deep voice soothes her, the gentle tunes of a Christmas song was his choice of the day.

“May your days be merry and bright and may all your christmases be white.” Leon wasn’t the best of the singers but he would sing his heart out to his daughter. It was a tradition now since Leon never had someone to sing to him. The baby calmed down at a comical rate, as if she just needed her dad’s embrace to feel safe. She was safe. As long as Leon lives, you and his miracle would have the best life ever.

“I’m almost jealous, she falls asleep so fast with you.” You set down the box, stretching your arms. This is the first box out of so many, you weren’t the biggest spender nor a shopaholic but when you married Leon, some perks came with him. Those perks included having unlimited access to his black card which you use wisely.

Wisely was an understatement, though. Having several copies of the same gingerbread man who dances every time you press a button wasn’t the wisest decision. But you and your daughter love it so Leon has to shut up. Everything for his family.

In the past, Christmas was a simple but dreadful date. He didn’t understand the point of it. When he was a rookie cop, he at least tried to force some polite smiles and give words of affirmations to his colleagues back at the police academy. He stupidly thought that once he got to work, his life would change. But the universe had other plans for him that night in September. He spent that year’s Christmas wishing to die. The government had taken away his right to end his life. Dying wasn't an option. The girl he saved back in Raccoon City, Sherry, needed him.

Year after year, he grew resentful, angry and bitter. He expected to spend this holiday alone until his last days of life. Having to grow old and wither away, no one to care, no one who would remember him as a human and not a machine. Not the government’s lap dog.

But somehow, he met you. He was a dick at first, he knew it. Until this day, he never understood how you could choose him. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t go back to his addiction one day. He vowed to never do it again, and he was sure to keep his promise. However, you could never know the extent of his words. You lived –at least to Leon– uncertain of how long he would be sober. But much to his dismay (or pleasure) you gave a chance to that renewed man, to that agent who had come from a mission in San Francisco that almost got him killed.

He was content with just you. He never asked for more, scared of being too greedy, too wishful. Your presence was enough for him, your smile made all of his problems go away. Your tender words were the medicine for his broken and beaten up heart, every last bit of self hatred went away with you. There was nothing else he wanted.

Until he realized that maybe, he could have the life he had always wanted.

When you announced you were expecting, Leon couldn’t show his happiness at first. He was scared. Hell, he even had to take a deep breath before telling you something. He never had a father, well he had one but his memories are too foggy. He grew up thinking kids were a mistake and that somehow, he was a mistake, too.

He found himself slipping into the unborn baby's room when you were asleep. Watching how both of you have decorated the space where your little one will be welcomed. His fingers grazed over the white crib, already imagining what his daughter would look like. He likes to think he looks like his own mother, a blurry memory of her blonde hair swaying with the wind. His daughter will have a better life than his. He's going to fight for it.

His eyes would travel over your body. He knew how anatomy worked but watching it before his eyes was so extraordinary. Your little miracle was safely tucked inside of your belly. He has always known you were beautiful but damn – it seems that motherhood suits you a little too well. He was grateful, really grateful. You gave him the opportunity to indulge in the normal and domestic kind of life.

“She's already asleep.” Your sweet voice called him, bringing him back to the present. While he was reminiscing about the past, the baby had already fallen asleep. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder as she breathed softly. Her tiny fingers still gripping his shirt.

“She's so lazy.” Leon whispered, his voice filled with softness and lighthearted teasing. He gently laid her on the couch, making sure to place some pillows around her in case she moved. A welcomed and soothing silence surrounded your still not decorated room. This was the perfect opportunity to start your Christmas task.

“You know… Now you can help me put up the countless decorations we have in these boxes.” You chuckled as you placed your hand on Leon’s cheek, your thumb grazing against the growing stubble. You loved moments like this where the only thing that lingered in the air was normalcy and harmony, no missions, no worries, just a happy family.

“I’ll help you if you promise you won’t judge my artistic side.” His lips turned into a sly smirk before he pressed soft kisses against your lips. A sweet yet sincere demonstration of love. He always worries he’s not enough. You play your role as wife and mother, so he ought to be the best husband and father he can be while also balancing his job life. No bioweapon could compare with the fear of losing his own little family because of himself.

Time seems to fly when you’re surrounded with love, Leon lives by that saying. You both decided to put up the tree first since that’s the most arduous task to complete. It takes you almost an hour between placing the ornaments in the correct place and Leon being scolded because he can’t match colors even if his life depended on it.

“Now big boy, you gotta put the star at the top.” You crossed your arms as Leon placed the last ornament on the tree. It wasn’t the best tree, especially since Leon didn’t give any artistic advice on his side. Some colors looked rather odd combined with others, but Leon thought it was abstract.

Almost inaudible babblings made you turn around and found your baby already awake. She was playing by herself, her hands reaching for the ceiling. You had to admit it – she was sometimes an angel. She easily entertained herself and barely cried.

You reached for her and walked toward the tree. Now her fingers tried to grab the Christmas ornaments. The colors reflecting on her blue eyes – that she got from Leon. By the way she kept babbling nonsense it almost looked like she was talking.

“Huh? Right I told your mom that too but she didn’t like the idea.” Leon acted like he understood what the little one was saying. And she also engaged in the conversation, two people against your own ideas.

For a few minutes, you focused on your daughter and how amazed she seems to be with everything. In her own world, that tree was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen.

But out of nowhere, both of you looked back at Leon who was sniffing and gently sobbing in front of the tree.

“Sorry, sorry…” He chuckled before wiping away some of the tears that continued falling without stopping. He then waved his hand dismissively, expecting you to drop the subject. Now he had two pairs of eyes intensely looking at him, yours and your baby’s.

After a short while of him trying to keep his tears of joy at bay, he eventually spoke once again.

“Thank you. For… For this.” A gentle smile formed in his face as he opened his arms. You wasted no time to welcome the hug. Now, the three of you were in front of the Christmas tree. The babbling, the sobs, and the soothing music in the background formed a domestic and warm scene. Full of love, emotions, and devotion. His thank you conveyed so much more than just merely words of gratitude. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for believing in me, and thank you for marrying me and thank you for giving me the family I never had. He wanted to say those things, but he remained silent. He knew you would understand the meaning behind his simple thank you.

He would have never expected something like this. He had always thought he was doomed from the start. That his life would be about saving others and never being saved. But he was saved, and he will always be saved.

His daughter’s hands reached for his face, her fingers grabbing his cheeks and nose. Leon obliged, moving his face closer. Nothing out of the ordinary. Until her lips moved on her own.

“Dada!”

He will never shut up now.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #this is sojskahdja

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emotionalmessss · 11 months

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Me again hehe ok so what if Sukuna had a frail s/o that bruises really easily like he could flick her arm and an hour later boom purple spot

A/N: ahhh. I know sukuna is like the opposite of nice/gentle, but I'm going to be taking a different approach with this. I tried to answer the best I could, I swear my brain likes to run with things and spew out random shit.

Warnings: slight violence, teasing, unhealthy relationships, soft-ish sukuna?

it was hard for sukuna to come to terms that he actually liked you. he noticed he was paying a little too much attention to you. nothing particularly peaked his interest much like you did. the thought of having feelings for something other than himself bothered him immensely. fruitlessly, he tried to suppress these emotions.

in his mind, he thought that if he ignored them, they'd eventually go away. so he resorted to his usual tactics; teasing, taunting, and humiliating you.

this succeeded in very little. he found himself even more enamoured by you. he loved watching you and never seemed to leave your side.

you'd grown accustom to his little games and stopped feeding into it. you knew he enjoyed your reactions and you weren't going to give him the satisfaction.

this annoyed him. although, he thoroughly enjoyed watching you unconsciously fight with your inner self. your face twisting up in a grimace, blush creeping in on your cheeks, and fists clenching at your sides.

his advancements were becoming intense. you couldn’t have more than a few hours to yourself without him intruding. it was strange. you couldn’t place why he was so interested in you and you tried to ignore it. it wasn’t an easy task. besides his taunting words and sadistic humour, he started being physical. he would stand closer to you than normal, hovering over you in a manner that screamed dominance.

sukuna found himself watching you more and more - his interest peaking to a borderline obsession. if he couldn’t ignore these feelings, he’d just have to embrace them. no one was allowed to harm you, except him, of course. you were his. his to torment. his to enjoy.

he noticed you were fragile, like a fucking child. If he grabbed with even just an ounce of his normal strength, your skin reddened. normally he'd feed off this new finding, but something else dwelled in his stomach. he wanted you all to himself. the desire to hurt you shifted into the need to have you.

a thick hand caught your wrist, instinctively causing your body to react and jerk backwards. your mask slipped from your face as you felt his grip tighten. the desire to flee was overwhelming, so much so that you'd combust if you stood still.

sukuna merely glanced down his nose at you, tightening his hold as you moved to step back. oh, no. you're not going anywhere. the need to have you close amplified and he tugged you closer, earning a hiss of response.

his eyes flicked to your wrist, noticing your pale skin darkening to a purple bruise. he couldn't hide the look of surprise on his face. his brows twitching as his eyes narrowed.

"such a fragile thing, aren't you?" his expression hardened again, but the softness of his voice couldn't be hidden.

he knew humans were fragile - there was no doubt in his mind about that. but he didn't expect this. he usually felt pleasure in causing pain towards others, but you were different. seeing all the cuts and bruises that littered your arms and legs made him unsettled.

he did his best to hide it, but you were smart. the way his expression shifted into slight concern before reverting to boredom, never went unnoticed.

his approach shifted, and you noticed it. sukuna refrained from using excessive force on you and instead, opted to softer gestures.

"hurt yourself again, brat?" you looked up at him, crossed legged at the bottom of his shrine.

"no." you stubbornly answered, flicking at your nails.

"hm." he shifted on his makeshift throne, glaring down at you with a bored expression.

he was crouching in front of you now, taking you by surprise and making you flinch back. his hand enveloped yours as he studied the fading bruise on your wrist.

"doesn't look that way to me." he muttered, focusing his attention on your arm.

sukuna’s usual lack of interest in anything changed. in your first meeting, he barely gave you a second glance. you weren’t important to him. he could care less about you. but now, his eyes lingered over you. he’d quickly check over your body when he thought you wouldn’t notice. at first, you couldn’t place why he was doing this. was it to make you uncomfortable? no. he was checking for any indications that you might be hurt.

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mountttmase · 4 months

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A Mountain To Climb

The Christmas Special

Part Two

Note - they finally got their happy ending 🥺 little baby George is my whole heart I swear I think of him as my own child at this point I just love the little squish. Thank you so much for the love on part one and I really hope you like this part just as much 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 6.2K

Warnings - fluff and a tiny smidge of angst

‘I’ll pop the heating on yeah? Get it all nice and warm for the little man’ Mason shouted to you as he opened the front door to let you in. The three of you taking your first family outing to the big Sainsburys to grab some last minute Christmas supplies and you couldn’t wait to get back into the safety of your home.

The run up to Christmas was always hard, there was always so much to be done and so much to plan but this year was different. You’d spent most of it heavily pregnant until your little boy made his entrance a week before Christmas Eve.

Mason was at training when you found out you were pregnant. You wanted to wait until he got home so you could take the test together and find out but you couldn’t handle not knowing and when the little test told you you were pregnant you collapsed on the floor in happy tears.

You managed to make them stop until he got home. The pair of you sinking to the floor once you’d shown him the positive test so he could hold you in his lap as you both silently cried. Counting back to realise your baby was probably conceived the night of your third anniversary and it just made everything feel even more special to you.

By all accounts it was a perfect pregnancy and Mason has been your rock through it all but as your due date approached you could feel yourself getting more and more anxious. Being a good mum was important to you and after everything that had happened throughout your childhood you were determined not to leave your little one with the same fate.

Just like Mason always was, your little bubba was late. Two weeks in total and you were starting to get to the end of your tether with being pregnant until your waters broke at 4am whilst you were tossing and turning in bed next to Mason who was more than horrified by all accounts.

George was a perfect mix of the pair of you. Your hair colouring and lips but Masons eyes and cheeks and you couldn’t be more in love with him if you tried. He was the cutest thing you’d ever seen and all you wanted to do was wrap him up and protect him from the world.

You had always been told you’d feel that feeling as soon as you saw him but there was a voice in the back of your head telling you it won’t happen for you. That you were a product of your family and it would take time for you to bond with George but thankfully that wasn’t the case and you’d turned into a big mamma bear almost instantly.

It was hard though. The pair of you adjusting as well as you could and even though Mason was the perfect father so far, your motherly instincts had kicked in ten fold and you very rarely let George out of your sight.

You weren’t sure what it was, that new baby fear maybe, or if it was something a bit more than that. If it was something you were trying to prove to yourself that you could be a good mum. The best mum. Nothing like the woman who raised you.

You knew it was in the back of your mind even though it shouldn’t be but you wanted to be perfect even though you were still healing from childbirth. Taking on every task that needed doing over Christmas and making sure it was done to perfection. Not accepting help from anyone, even Mason, as you organised a special Christmas Eve get together for all your family but the stress of it and learning how to take care of a little human was making you snappy.

Mason left you to it at first. Knowing not to rock the boat as your hormones were all over the place and you never backed down but eventually he stepped in. Telling you to relax and take a breather but rather than listen to him you exploded at him.

‘Will you just leave me Mason, I know what I’m doing’ you told him angrily. Moving your shoulder so his hand would drop away from you.

‘I never said you didn’t love, I’m trying to help’

‘Well that makes a change’ you scoffed and you felt awful immediately but your pride stopped you from apologising straight away. Under normal circumstances you knew he would probably have said something back but you heard him let out a short breath before carrying on speaking to you calmly.

‘Tell me what you want me to do’

‘What I want is for you to go away. I want these to be perfect and you’re just ruining everything’ you shouted, tears burning in your eyes before you slammed the napkins down on the table and made an exit.

You felt awful. Saying hurtful things to the man you loved who was only trying to help and when you stormed off upstairs he let you have your moment to calm down. Only going to look for you when he thought you’d been gone too long and finding you fast asleep on his side of the bed.

There was something about finding you on his side of the bed that made Mason's heart sing. He knew you were tired and stressed and not in any state to be doing as much as you had but he also knew how stubborn you were and how much it took you to ask for help but knowing you were taking comfort in his space made him feel just a tiny bit better.

By the time you’d woken up and calmed down you found Mason in the living room, sitting in the armchair with George asleep on his chest as he slowly rubbed his back with Parker asleep at his feet.

Ever since you’d fallen pregnant it was like Parker could sense the change. Rarely leaving you alone and forever laying his head on your ever growing bump and now that George was finally here he was just as protective. You wasn’t sure how Parker would react to such a little baby when he was such a huge dog but he was his usual gentle and loving self and no matter where George was, Parker wasn’t too far away.

Mason’s eyes were on you as soon as he sensed your presence but you didn’t know what to do so you played with your fingers whilst thinking of what to say. By the time you looked up, he’d moved George onto the one side of his chest before holding his other arm out for you to come and join them. Helping you sit on the arm of the chair and cuddle into his chest with your legs dangling over his lap and you felt even worse than before.

‘I’m so sorry’ you whispered, your tearful eyes looking into his sympathetic ones and you carried on talking before he had a chance to tell you everything was okay. ‘I just really want everything to be perfect you know? It’s George’s first Christmas and our families are gonna be together and I just wanna show everyone that I can do it’

‘I know baby. And I know you can do it but you can’t do it on your own okay? You pushed this little human out of you four days ago and you’re still healing, not to mention your hormones are all over the place. You need to rest’

‘There’s just a lot to do’ you sniffed. Reaching for George’s hand that was resting on Mason's chest and your heart thumped as he wrapped his fingers around yours gently.

‘How about we make a list of everything and then we divide and conquer? My mum said she’s happy to do whatever’s needed so we can see if she can help?’

‘Maybe that’s a good idea. I just wanted to do it myself’ you confessed. Not wanting to look like a failure but deep down you knew you could really use the help.

‘I know’ he breathed, pressing a small kiss to your nose. ‘And I know why too but you’ve got nothing to prove to anyone okay? You're a perfect mum and no amount of handmade place settings will change that’ he joked, causing you to nod at him with a smile. ‘You’re not superwoman. No one expects you to be okay? In fact I think they think you’re all mental for wanting to host them a week after you’ve popped a baby out’ he teased.

‘Thank you Mase. And I really am sorry for having a go, I didn’t mean it’

‘I know, there’s a lot of change going on but as long as we stick together we’ve got this okay? Now show me my favourite smile, pretty girl’ he teased, a smile taking over your face automatically and you felt a shiver roll through you as he reciprocated it. ‘There we go. And as for this one’ he mumbled, head nodding to the little boy who was still fast asleep on him. ‘He doesn’t remember anything half the time. We could literally skip Christmas and he’d be none the wiser. He’d just sleep right through it’

‘We’re not skipping Christmas, Mason’ you scolded, knowing he was only joking but you appreciated him trying to make you smile just like he always did.

So you did as he said. You made a list and a timetable and made sure to make lots of room for breaks and as soon as it was all written down you realised it wasn't as scary as you thought. But the last few sleepless nights had taken it out of you so when you got back from the shops to get on with your final task you felt yourself slowly slipping into sleep at the table.

‘Right miss, nap time for you’ you suddenly heard, feeling Mason’s hand on your shoulder but you shook it off. Wanting to finish what you were doing.

‘I’m fine-‘

‘Nope’ he laughed, forcing you out of your chair and looking at you with a stern face. ‘You’ve been in a mood all morning so you need a nap before everyone gets here’ he teased, pushing you up the stairs before he grabbed George from his basket. Parker sitting just below it like he always did but as soon as Mason picked George up he was up too and following you up the stairs and into your bedroom.

‘I’m fine’

‘Come on babe, you know what the nurse said. You sleep when baby sleeps’ he told you softly. Pressing a kiss to your forehead as he tried to attempt to push you to the bed but you resisted ever so slightly.

‘But I need to sort the-‘

‘Baby, we spoke about this’ he whispered. Popping George in the next to me crib before holding your face so you could really look at each other. ‘You’re exhausted and you’ll be even more so when everyone gets here later. I can do what needs doing okay. Will it be as good as if you did it? No, not at all. But I’ll make up for it with my charm and wit’ he teased, hands slightly moving to your neck as you smiled lightly. ‘You need to let me help, remember?’

‘I’m sorry Mase’ you whispered tearily but he cut you off with a kiss.

‘You don’t need to be sorry. Just please have a nap’

‘Okay’ you conceded, letting him tuck you into bed. George sleeping softly beside you as Parker took up a spot at the end of the bed and as much as you wanted to just sit and look at George you knew you were too tired and eventually gave into sleep.

You slept for longer than you wanted to but you knew you must have needed it. Waking up to quickly feed George and get him changed into his little Christmas outfit before meeting Mason downstairs. Feeling warmth rush through you at the sight of him finishing up the table settings and you resisted the urge to run over and kiss his face off.

‘It looks great Mase, thank you’ you told him, startling him a little bit but he sent you a kind lopsided smile before taking George from you so you could go and get yourself sorted and ready for everyone to come. Your heart melting at the way he was looking at him all dressed up and you could see how much Mason loved being a dad as clear as day.

Freya was first to arrive with Woody in tow. Making a beeline for George’s basket so she could pick him up and sit with him on Woody's lap.

‘Didn’t have you down as a baby woman’ Mason laughed, his arm around your waist as you watched the pair of them fuss over your little boy and it warmed your heart looking at the pair of them.

‘Well no, but this isn’t just any baby though is it’ she laughed. Stroking his little cheek with her thumb as Woody made the same gesture on Freya’s thighs and the pair of them looked at him in awe. ‘This is my little Georgie Porgie, the cutest baby in the world, yes you are’ she babbled to him and it made your heart flutter to see how much they loved him.

‘You’re supposed to be here to help’

‘I’m saying hello to my godson first’ she joked, but you smiled softly. Knowing there was a special gift for her and Woody under the tree from George asking to be his god parents so you were even more hopeful now she would accept.

‘You can come help me put the crisps into bowls if you like’ Mason offered, throwing her a bag after she’d popped George back into his crib and letting Parker take his spot underneath to guard him. ‘Woody, you too’

‘Yes dad’ he huffed before you watched Mason put him in a headlock and ruffle his hair.

‘Don’t talk back son or Santa won’t stop at your house tonight’ he joked, trying to mess his hair up but Freya was quick to separate them so they could finish sorting the snacks out.

Mason's family were next to turn up, Freya having to begrudgingly give George over so Masons family could meet him for the first time and you almost burst into tears as Tony pulled you in for a warm hug.

‘How you doing, love?’ He asked, walking into the house with you under his arm, your eyes full to the brim at his affection. Knowing how protective he was over you made you feel so full and watching his eyes tear up as he caught sight of little George almost sent you over the edge.

You loved sitting with his family and watching them fawn over him, knowing whatever happened that George would always have a loving family and people around him but when the doorbell went for the third time, you knew who it was immediately and the nervousness in your tummy was threatening to overflow.

‘You wanna get that, baby?’ Mason asked, a bright smile on his face and with a quick nod and a kiss to his cheek you were running to the door.

‘Hi dad’ you smiled, enveloping him in a big hug straight away and you felt your eyes sting as he held you back just as tightly.

‘Hi love. Are you okay?’

‘I’m good, how was the journey?’

‘Not as long as I thought but long enough’ he laughed, before stepping aside to reveal the rest of your family.

You’d met his wife Liz and your two step sisters Abi and Hailey twice before and even though you thought it might be awkward and weird you all got on like a house on fire. Pulling them in for a hug each as they came inside before leading them into the living room so they could mix with Mason's family.

You noticed straight away that George was back in Freya’s arms with Parker sat patiently besides her and you laughed as you made your way over to them.

‘What? He was handed to me. I didn't steal him I promise’ she laughed but you saw the pout from a mile off when you attempted to take him.

‘Come on Frey, my dads here and he wants to meet his grandson… god that sounds weird’ you laughed, taking George into your arms and you were surprised at how settled you felt as soon as he was back with you.

Watching your dad get emotional at the sight of your baby set you off, feeling Mason's arms wrap around your waist from behind made you smile though and with a kiss on your cheek you turned to pull him into a much needed hug.

George was an angel, never once crying or making a fuss as he was passed from person to person for a cuddle and you distracted yourself by refilling the snack bowls and getting drinks so the empty feeling you felt whenever George wasn’t in your arms didn’t linger.

After a while, Freya came to find you. Pulling you away from the washing up so you could spend some time with your family but the pair of you spent a little time just people watching as yours and Mason's families mingled.

‘You okay?’ She smiled, her arm around your shoulders as the pair of you stood to the side and watched everyone get along.

Your sisters talking to Jaz, your dad in deep conversation with Tony and Lewis and Debbie speaking to Liz who had George safely cradled in her arms. It all felt surreal to have everyone here together and it was overwhelming at how big your family was now.

‘Yeah, I’m okay’ you smiled, looking up and fraya before you bundled each other into your arms. You knew you both wanted to tell each other you were proud of the other but you let your arms do the talking before you pulled away. Laughing as you wiped your tears before going to join in with everyone. Freya choosing to go sit with Mason, Woody and the kids as they played with Parker whilst you went to see Debbie and Liz. Hoping you could steal George back as you felt incomplete without him.

Thankfully Liz and Debbie moved apart and patted the seat in between them and handed George over to you as soon as you sat down. Your heart hammering at the way your baby nuzzled into you and reached for the neck of your top to hold.

‘Now I want you to be honest, how’s Mason been this week?’ Debbie laughed and as much as you wanted to joke about him with her like usual you really wanted her to know how perfect he’d been.

‘Honestly? I really couldn’t ask for anyone better to do this with’ you smiled at her, watching her face soften instantly before you looked down to see George yawning adorably in his sleep. ‘He knows me like the back of his hand and knows when to tell me off when I’m pushing it too far. I think I forget I only gave birth a week ago but he’s really looked after us this week. You should be really proud of him’

‘I am’ she breathed. Tapping your knee lightly. ‘But I’m proud of you too. I know it’s hard to admit when you need help and I know you’ve spent a lot of time doing things on your own. But he really is a good boy and he loves you so much’

‘I love him too’ you laughed tearily, wiping your eyes with your free hand. ‘Sorry my hormones are all over the place still, I’m crying at the drop of a hat’

‘It’s okay, love’ Liz smiled, placing her hand on your other knee. ‘You should have seen me after I had Abi, I was inconsolable for weeks. It takes time and you’ll get there but you’ve got the best support around you by the looks of things’ she reassured you. ‘And you can always rely on your dad and me and the girls too’

‘Thank you’ you told her honestly. ‘And thank you for looking after my dad’

‘Of course’ she smiled tearfully. ‘He’s always spoken about you and I had to really give him a kick up the bum to speak to you. I think he was ashamed of how he acted’ she confessed, and sensing you might need some alone time you felt Debbie shuffle next to you.

‘I’m gonna go find my son and give him a big hug’ Debbie told you, standing up to go and search for Mason but before long her seat was taken up by the other man in your life.

‘I think me and Mason's dad are gonna get on great’ your dad smiled. Wrapping his arm around you and dropping a kiss on your forehead as he stroked George’s little cheek. ‘I still can’t believe I’m a grandad, I’m so proud of you’

‘Oh don’t you start, I’ve only just calmed down from Debbie saying the same’ you laughed, bumping your shoulder into his chest slightly. ‘But thank you’ you told him, smiling as Abi and Hailey shyly made their way over to join you all but you waved them over with a smile. ‘Would you guys like a hold?’

‘Me first’ Abi interjected, sitting herself down on the floor and Hailey joined her in a huff but you carefully passed George over and watched as he got himself comfortable in his new aunties arms. You felt so complete. The only person missing being Mason but little did you know he was currently feeling the love from his family too.

He was standing in the kitchen talking to his dad when Debbie approached him. Wrapping her arms around him with a tearful expression but he knew she wasn’t sad from the first glance as she held him tightly.

‘You alright mum?’

‘I’m more than alright’ she laughed, pulling back to look at him and the look of pride on her face made his bottom lip wobble. ‘I can’t tell you how proud I am of you. You’ve got the most gorgeous little boy out there and such a perfect family. I couldn’t be happier for you Mase’

‘Thank you mum’

‘It's not just that though, I’m so proud of the man you’ve become. She’s got nothing but praise for you out there and I know you’re looking after them so well. I just couldn’t be anymore proud of the man you are’ she sniffed. ‘And I know you’re not even doing it intentionally, it’s just who you are but it’s so lovely to see’

‘Stop it, you’ll make me cry’ he laughed, pulling his parents in for a much needed hug. Knowing they were proud of him was all he ever wanted and he was overwhelmed with how emotional they were for him.

You were soon up and making the rounds to ask if anyone needed any refills but everyone seemed to be fine so you went off in search of your boys.

You’d lost sight of Mason a while ago and now George seemingly too and as the noise in your living room grew louder you excused yourself to try and find them. Eventually finding the pair of them sat in the conservatory on the big sofa with a big fluffy blanket around the pair of them. Your chest feeling warm as you sat and watched Mason talk quietly to him before his eyes caught yours and he sent you a shy lopsided smile.

‘Look Georgie, mummy’s here’ he told him, poking his hand out from the blanket so he could beckon you over and once you were close he let you join him under the blanket so you could all cuddle up together.

‘What are two doing out here?’ You asked looking over to see George’s eyes were fully open and he was looking back at you when you spoke.

‘Little man was getting a bit overwhelmed with all the noise and people I think. Thought i'd just bring him in here for a little breather’ he told you and you felt yourself melt as you looked at him. His own eyes softening as they looked into yours. ‘What?’

‘You’re such a good dad, Mase’

‘Oh no you too’ he laughed. ‘I just had my mum and dad both crying in the kitchen saying the same’

‘But you are, you’re so good with him. And with me’ you laughed tears spilling down your cheeks. ‘Thank you for letting me join your boys only party’

‘You’re always invited to the boys only party’ he laughed, hearing Parker’s footsteps getting louder and louder before he rounded the corner and came into view. ‘Hello mate, you feeling left out?’ Mason laughed, tapping your thigh before Parker got the hint and jumped up next to you on the sofa so could lay his head on your lap. His eyes constantly flashing up to George as you scratched between his ears. ‘Well try and have a girl next, I feel like you’re a bit out numbered’ Mason laughed and you blushed at his words. Knowing he wanted to extend your family even more made your tummy flutter but you knew you had plenty of time for that.

George was starting to get fidgety and upset so you knew that meant only one thing. Carefully taking him from Mason as he passed him to you so you could feed him and as he settled down you felt Mason pull you into him further. A satisfied smile on his face as he looked down at his little family.

‘Just like your daddy you are’ you smiled, kissing George on the forehead. ‘Hungry all the time’

‘He’s just as obsessed with your boobs as I am’

‘Mason’

‘What? I haven’t got so much as a look at them lately, he always gets there first’ he huffed but the slight squeeze of your shoulder let you know he was only playing around but the look on his face let you know he was thinking about something else.

‘What is it Mase?’

‘Just seeing you with him, makes me realise how far we’ve come. Remember when you didn’t even want to be my friend? Now look at us’ he laughed. ‘I’d do it all again though if it meant we ended up here’

‘Me too’ you whispered. Leaning over so you could press a soft kiss to his lips before you both sat in silence to watch George. ‘We shouldn’t stay out here too long, everyone’s come to see us and we’ve gone and hid in another room’ you laughed once George had finished. Mason leaning in to kiss you softly as if he knew they should but he was sad about it.

‘I guess so. Why don’t you take George back to everyone and I’ll come back in a minute’ he told you. Helping you stand as Parker jumped up to join you and with a quick pinch to your bum you made your way back out to your family.

The rest of the night went without a hitch. Mason taking over the rest of the cooking with Freya and Woody and between the three of them they managed not to burn anything which you found quite impressive.

‘We’ll have to get the kids to bed soon or they’ll never sleep’ Jaz told you, stroking George’s cheek as she held him but Mason was pouting as soon as he overheard as he was having so much fun spending time with his little people.

‘Well you’ll have to wait a bit, we need to put snacks out for Santa’ he told you all seriously taking Summer and Mila into the kitchen so they could get a plate together of milk, cookies and a carrot for Rudolph before coming to get you and George so you could all take it outside and pop it on the porch. ‘We can check it in the morning and see if they ate it’ Mason told them before you handed George over to Mason so you could take a picture of the four of them and their snacks for Santa.

Everyone was off to bed soon after. Your dad and his family heading out as they had a long drive back home and after an emotional goodbye you walked back in to find Mason and everyone else finishing up getting things tidy.

‘You didn’t need to tidy up guys, I could of done it’

‘You’re hilarious, y/n’ Lewis laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder before walking you towards the stairs. ‘We’ve got this. Go to bed and we’ll finish up and see you in the morning, yeah?’

‘No, I can’t let you-‘

‘Mums orders!’ Debbie shouted from across the room, making you laugh as Lewis pushed you up the stairs. ‘We’ll see you in the morning okay?’

‘Okay’ You huffed, looking down at everyone appreciatively as you all shouted goodnight to each other before you went to your room. Getting dressed in your special Christmas pjs before Mason appeared with George not too long after.

‘I’ll just get ready and join you’ Mason smiled. Handing you over George and throwing you his Christmas babygrow that matched your pyjamas before Mason took his own matching ones into the bathroom so he could get ready himself. ‘I’ll have to go take a bite out of that bloody carrot in a bit, make it look like Rudolph ate it’ he huffed, shuffling into bed next to you and you looked at him with a fond smile before he looked down at George. ‘He’s so cute I want to eat him sometimes’ he laughed, pressing a quick kiss to his head before you did the same and place him in his crib next to you. ‘You okay?’ He asked, placing a kiss on your forehead, a confused smile on his face at the expression on yours but you just wanted to appreciate him and all he did for you.

‘Thank you for today Mason’ you smiled, the pair of you getting comfortable next to each other and his shy smile as blushy cheeks melted you.

‘There’s nothing to thank me for baby’

‘There is. It scares me sometimes how well you know me. How you always know what’s best for me’ you whispered. His face softening as he took your hand in his so he could rub comforting circles into the back of it.

‘It’s cause I love you’ he told you sincerely, picking your hand up to drop a kiss onto the back of it and you felt your fingers tingle at the sensation.

‘I love you too. And that’s why I want to give you a present early if that’s okay’

‘What?’ He laughed, watching you reach just by the bed to pull out what looked to be the size and shape of a shoe box. ‘What’s going on?’

‘It’s actually sort of a joint present but I want us to start using it as soon as possible’ you told him. Placing it on his lap before nodding your head so he’d tear into it. Once he had he was met with a cardboard box that he lifted the lid off of to reveal the present inside.

‘George’s book of firsts?’ He read aloud, picking up the folder so he could get a better look before his eyes were on you.

‘Its like a memory book. We can take pictures and fill in all his information so we’ve got something to look back on when he’s all grown up. I thought it might be fun for us to do it together’

‘I love it, thank you so much’ he whispered, leaning over to give you a small peck on your lips.

‘Open it up, there’s loads we can do’ you told him, watching his face the whole time as he flipped to the first page and you knew he’d seen it immediately.

This book belongs to:

George Tony Mount

To say naming George was easy would be a massive understatement.

First name, sure. You know you wanted something fairly traditional and when Debbie suggested it one afternoon as you all sat around to try and share ideas, the pair of you looked at each other with hopeful eyes almost immediately.

The middle name picked itself. Carrying on the tradition and a gentle nod to Mason's dad and all he did for the pair of you. You still remember the day you told Tony your thoughts around this and the little twinkle in his eye told you all you needed to know.

It was the last name that was a bit of a pickle. The pair of you not speaking about it as it had always been a bit of a contentious subject and so far no one had the guts to talk about it.

You knew it was partly your fault. Telling Mason soon after your engagement that when you got married you were unsure if you wanted to change your last name. It was the last tie to your old life and where you came from, the last piece of them you had, as you weren’t fully back on track with your dad yet but things had changed since then.

You knew Mason wasn’t thrilled by your thoughts on this subject. He wanted you to be his in every sense of the word and for his little boy to be his. But he also understood where you were coming from and loved you enough to look past it.

You could see Masons eyes full of tears as his bottom lip wobbled. A shaky breath leaving his lips as he looked up at you and your heart was thumping out of your chest.

‘Mount? You want him to be a Mount?’

‘I do’ you whispered. Taking his face in your hands so you could press a kiss to the end of his nose. And when we get married next year, I want to be a Mount too’

Your heart broke at the relieved whimper that left his lips. Dropping the book to his lap so he could wrap you up in his arms. His tears making your neck damp as you held onto each other for dear life before he pulled back to hold your face. Your own eyes now full of tears as you hadn’t realised how much it meant to him.

‘Really? Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure Mase. I want everyone to know we’re yours and we belong to you’

‘What changed your mind?’

‘You’ve given me everything I could ever want or need Mason. You’ve loved me when I didn’t deserve it and stood by me through thick and thin. All that I am, and all that we are now, it’s because of you and I’m ready to give myself to you fully. I know I said I didn’t want to lose my ties to my family but you’re my family. You and little Georgie are my whole life and it just feels like the final missing piece’

‘You’ve always deserved my love’ he whispered. ‘You deserve everyone’s love and I’m so happy you get to feel it from everyone now.

‘I think that’s partly the reason why. Knowing my dad and his family better now helps. I know I’ve got him now and losing my last name doesn’t mean I’m losing him or that side of me. But I’m gaining a part of you and you’re the most special person in the whole world to me and I’ll always choose you. Good days, bad days, come rain or shine I’ll always choose you Mase.

‘God I love you so much’

‘I love you too’

‘I can’t believe I’ve gotta wait another five weeks to show you’ he joked, making you roll your eyes as you realised what he wanted but couldn’t have just yet.

‘Well how about you run down and grab those cookies from outside so we can share them. Distract you a little bit’

‘That sounds like a good idea. I’ll drink some of the milk too’

‘Don’t forget the carrot’

‘I could never forget the carrot’ he winked, kissing your forehead before jumping out of bed and sneaking downstairs. Making you laugh at his attempts of being quiet and as soon as he was out of sight you realised this year for Christmas, you finally had everything you’d ever wanted.

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dreamfyrie · 1 year

Text

End of the Day

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x His Family

Dinner with you and the kids was Aemond's favorite part of the day. His time was mostly spent in small council meetings trying to run the kingdom while Aegon was out doing whatever he pleased. Aegon had declared him Hand of the King early on in his reign, and Aemond was honored. That was before he had become a father and met you, though. Now he was trapped in a continuous cycle of counting down the minutes until he got to reunite with you and the children every evening.

He loved hearing his kids talk about everything they did during the day. Whenever they embellished the details of their day, he'd always look at you and see you holding in a laugh while trying to put on a serious face and play along with their stories.

"Father, I swear! Lightbringer actually talked out loud today, truly!" Your son proclaimed.

"What did he have to say?"

"He told me that he thinks I'm ready to ride, and you should probably start giving me flying lessons."

"You're not big enough to fly yet, maybe if you ate your vegetables so you could grow, you'd be in the air by now," Aemond said.

"Well, I guess I'll never be flying then."

Aemond sat up and asked, "Do you know how I lost my eye?"

"No.." Your son said hesitantly. Aemond had never opened up to the kids about his eye before. They had only ever known him to have one eye and assumed it was normal for some people to be missing one.

Aemond replied with the straightest face, "I refused to eat my vegetables, and the muscles in my face turned weak, and one day it just fell out."

Your youngest son's face turned white from his father's confession while your middle son sat up in his chair beside him, "I thought you said you lost it because you rolled your eyes and complained too much during your High Valyrian lessons?"

All of your children's attention had now been captured.

"What are you talking about? It got cut out when a tail hit him because he didn't make sure to always check his surroundings while he was in the dragon pit, that's why he has the scar," your eldest son stated matter-of-factly.

Thank the gods the kids started fighting about something else, so he didn't have to explain how he somehow managed to lose his eye three different times.

The two of you watched as your toddler stood up on her seat so she could tell a story. She can't help that she makes big gestures with her hands while talking and always somehow manages to accidentally knock over someone's goblet. Standing up like she was giving an important speech was her solution to this dilemma.

She never ceased to be the most entertaining part of dinner. Your daughter slapped her brothers in the face whenever they wouldn't stop picking on her, and Aemond couldn't help but smile. He was the one that gave her that idea, and she never hesitated to put them in their place.

You were pregnant with your fifth child, and out of instinct, Aemond would rest his hand on your belly whenever he wasn't eating. He'd sit there content after dinner, listening to everyone's conversations, and his mind couldn't help but drift off sometimes.

Aemond never got to eat dinner with his father and liked to imagine this is what it could have been like. He loved how his kids felt so comfortable around him that they had no reservations about sharing all their thoughts. Kids were never something he thought too much about. He never imagined he'd enjoy being a father this much, let alone look forward to being surrounded by his children at the end of a long day.

It felt overwhelming at first, having people who loved him unconditionally and looked up to him. He spent most of his life seeking the approval of his parents, and it felt strange that he was in that position now, being in charge of making little humans that loved him so much feel worthy and enough. Aemond saw the way his mother always yelled and hit Aegon, and now that he was a parent himself, he couldn't help but wonder if that's why he turned out to be such a sad person. He would never hurt his own kids, the thought of even raising his voice at them made him feel guilty.

He came back to reality when he saw your daughter wiggling around, dancing with a knife in her hand that she had just used to cut herself a slice of cake, and her brothers yelling at her to put it down.

Aemond let out a chuckle while watching the scene in front of him. Having kids changed him more than he had ever expected. He had never been too close to Aegon, Helaena liked to be left alone with her bugs, and Daeron was away. The camaraderie that came with having siblings was something he never really had the chance to experience.

Watching his children fight like animals between each other but be ready to kill someone that ever hurt one of them, forced him to put a lot of his past into perspective. Too many of Aemond's years were wasted carrying resentment towards Lucerys. He knew if his children were in the position of watching their brother or sister being hurt, they would've done the same exact thing that Lucerys did.

He wished his forgiveness and understanding had come earlier in life, before things were too late to fix. Aemond's kids wouldn't be like him, though. He'd teach them about forgiveness, not judging people too harshly, and trying to see things from other people's points of view. He would try his hardest to pass on his wisdom and be a father worthy of their innocent love.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen angst #aegon targaryen #lucerys velaryon #dad!aemond targaryen #hotd

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feelbokkie · 6 months

Text

Fanged Love

Feeltober Day 4

genre: fluff, slight crack, slight angst

pov: 2nd person

description: Just another day where you appreciate a day with your human boyfriend.

pairing: Lee Know x vampire!reader

warnings: slightly suggestive, swearing (like one word)

word count: 733

☀️Feelbokkie M.list ☀️

👻13 Days of Feeltober👻

"I know you won't drink my blood but what if you drink Hyunjin's?" Minho says when he walks into your apartment. He sets the cooler lunch box that he's carrying down on the table. He opens it up and hands you a blood pouch.

"...This...this isn't Hyun's blood is it?" You ask hesitantly as you take the pouch from him.

"I wish it was. Maybe that'd shut him up. But I got it from the blood bank so you're fine." He closes the cooler and takes it to the kitchen to store the rest of the blood bags.

Minho has taken the liberty of going to the blood bank and getting you a few pints of blood regularly ever since the blood donation program started. You would go down yourself but after one incident with accidental sun exposure and another with anti-vampire protestors picketing outside of your local blood bank, you decided it would be safer if you didn't go at all. Minho decided he'd go for you, and to the butcher to get your regular pints of animal blood, to ease the stress off your body.

"What did he do this time?" You call into the kitchen.

"Exist," He sighs as he walks back into the living room, sitting down next to you. He instinctively pulls you in closer and tries to warm up your ice-cold body.

"I don't think you can fault him for that." You laugh, snuggling into him closely.

"I can and I will," He grumbles.

"You complain about being an only child. Hate to break it to you, but this is exactly what it's like having siblings. My siblings and I used to get into it constantly, drove my parents nuts. Electronics didn't exist back then so we had no choice but to annoy each other. Glad to see that hasn't really changed in centuries." You smile sadly thinking about your family.

You were the only one who was turned into a vampire. One of the vampires in the coven who slaughtered your family took pity on you and decided to save you by turning you. It was too late for the rest of your family. It's a story that Minho knows well enough, you told him when he questioned why you don't feed on people directly. You never wanted to inflict the same amount of pain that the coven that turned you, the coven that took you in after you lost everything away from you to anyone else. And as years passed you watched as the coven, which became your new family over time, slowly imploded as members died, were killed by villagers, or left altogether. You were lucky enough to have two families in your lifetime and you outlived both of them. You didn't want to date Minho because you weren't sure you could take losing yet another family. The ending of this family made up completely of humans being inevitable. And yet, you somehow find yourself cuddling with your very human boyfriend on some random Monday afternoon.

"I should have kept my mouth shut. Now I have a permanent pain in my ass." He grumbles again. "What if you--"

"No,"

"I didn't even finish my sentence,"

"Whatever you were about to say was going to end in you suggesting I sink my fangs into Hyunjin's neck and drain him of his blood."

"Not technically,"

"Hmm," You hum, "Are you sure you want me to drink Hyunjin's blood? To have my fangs, tongue, and lips on his neck?" You tease. You watch as the blood drains from Minho's face and his jaw clenches.

"That's what I thought, Mr. Jealous," You laugh again before placing a kiss on Minho's cheek.

He visibly becomes less tense and hugs you tighter, almost like you might disappear. This family that you're building with Minho may be temporary, but it's all you need.

"What if I just hit him with my car?" He asks.

"Minho, that is a crime and I don't do conjugal visits."

"After I went and got you blood from the blood bank? Wow,"

"Sorry, but I would not look good under those fluorescent lights."

"Guess Hyunjin's going to have to live a little longer. Unless you change me and I--"

"No,"

"You're no fun!" He groans, throwing his head back onto the couch.

"I love you too, Minho."

Yeah, you're okay with your little temporary family.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

Taglist

@amyyscorner @puppysmileseungmin @veedoesntknaur @its-hannjisung @marked-unknown @honeypaintedskies @jaydebow @want2besomeoneelse @lanatheawesome @starlostastronaut

#Feelbokkie writes #13 days of feelbotber #stray kids #skz #lee know #minho #lee minho #x reader #skz imagine #stray kids imagine #feelbokkie writes #lee know imagine #minho imagine #lee minho imagine #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #lee know imagines #minho imagines #lee minho imagines

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ugh-yoongi · 9 months

Note

I haven't seen anybody write out Hobi being a librarian and I think that'd be soo cute! Sweet Hobi all smitten on a regular reader, and of course, they're a regular for a reason, but both are too nervous and self-conscious to act on any of their desires.

oh, this is so soft, i love this so much. thank you for sending it in! i hope you enjoy. <3

we're celebrating jess's birthday! hobi hours are: OPEN.

low key, no pressure

pairing: hoseok x reader (no pronouns used) genre: mutual pining, librarian au; fluff warnings: swearing, hobi being a cute disaster, this is kind of idiots to lovers but since the lovers development is implied i didn't tag it that way but just know it's there ok, taehyung is a shithead, mostly unedited. rating: e for everyone wordcount: 1.6k

Hoseok is a little misguided, is the thing.

What counts is that he has good intentions, even if they don’t hold up under closer examination. But he’s sort of a disaster of a human, so he takes Taehyung’s ribbing on the chin and forges ahead with his plan.

All because he doesn’t know how to talk to you.

He knows your favorite book because you check it out at least once a month. He knows your favorite flower because there’s a bouquet of them tattooed so artfully on your arm they look painted on. He knows your name and your address and your phone number because it’s in the system, and he has enough sense not to do anything with them.

“You could just—and I’m just spitballing here—say hello.”

Hoseok frowns. “I say hello every time…?”

Taehyung is a year younger, so it feels weird to disappoint him. Settles in his stomach all funny, like he’s doing something wrong but can’t figure out what it is. “That’s not—” Taehyung sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you always like this? Like, this is your baseline?”

“I’m not following.”

“Clearly,” Taehyung mutters. He looks good today, Hoseok thinks. Looks like he’d woken up and put actual effort into his appearance. Looks like the summer has favorites. Doesn’t at all look like he’s on the verge of a mental break, which is more than Hoseok can say about himself. “Hyung, I’m going to ask this point-blank—”

“Maybe don’t? I’m fragile.”

“—Do you know how to flirt?”

Hoseok scoffs, all instinct. Of course he knows how to flirt. He’d flirted his way through undergrad and then grad school with great success. He flirts with the grumpy IT guy the city sends over, just because it’s funny to watch his cheeks turn a shade of red he’d previously thought was impossible. Hell, he flirts with stupidity every single day, so who is Kim Taehyung to ask him such a thing?

“Don’t ask silly questions, Taehyungie.”

“So you’re saying you do?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Okay,” Taehyung shrugs, and Hoseok sighs in relief, glad that particular interrogation is over. “Flirt with me, then.”

And then he’s choking on his tea, expensive cashmere sweater now soiled with half a cup of honey vanilla chamomile. “You asshole,” he wheezes, barely able to get the words out before his throat constricts again, warning him of another impending coughing fit. “My sister bought me this sweater.”

“Noona has great taste,” comes Taehyung’s easy reply, paying no mind to Hoseok at all, “which is to be expected, of course. Now, please flirt with me once you’ve recovered.”

“Why?” Hoseok snaps, because the way he’s blotting at his sweater with a soggy napkin is humiliating. He doesn’t even have a change of clothes anymore; had taken his gym bag out of his car a few weeks ago when he’d gotten the flu.

Taehyung sighs again—put-upon, like he’s dealing with an obtuse child. “Because I’m trying to facilitate true love, and I can’t send you into battle unprepared.”

Hoseok just glares. He’s going to have to spend his lunch break running back to his apartment to change.

Right, the plan.

It’s all dependent on you sticking to your routine, which goes like this: every Sunday afternoon, without fail, you swing by the library and make pleasant small talk with Taehyung as you return your books. Taehyung, without fail, asks what you thought of them and recommends new ones accordingly. You always smile and say thank you, and your voice always sounds like church bells.

(“That’s because you want to mar—” “I will fire you if you finish that thought.”)

Hoseok is always conveniently absent during these exchanges, pretending to do paperwork in his office. This is why Taehyung calls him a coward, and that’s probably true, it’s just… Hoseok has talked to you enough times to develop a big fat crush, and that’s not acceptable. He doesn’t even know you; doesn’t want to romanticize you and put you on a pedestal.

Hence the plan.

If he can’t talk to you with words, he’ll do it with books.

It’s genius, regardless of what Taehyung thinks.

But Taehyung is integral to the plan, so Hoseok has to get him on board. “Look, I already put it together, I just need you to… suggest it.”

“You mean be manipulative.”

“It’s not manipulative,” Hoseok argues, sending a glare Taehyung’s way. “It’s no different from you suggesting books any other time.”

“I just don’t understand why you can’t just say hi, I really dig your taste in literature, would you like to grab a coffee sometime? It’s not that hard, hyung, you really don’t need to do all of…” He points at the stack of books Hoseok has assembled. “...This.”

There’s about three seconds before Hoseok explodes, and Taehyung must realize it because he’s throwing his hands up and going fine, fine and helping sort the books.

As annoying as Taehyung can be, he really is a great salesman.

Powerful, too, because Hoseok wouldn’t have lasted a second in your presence. Probably would’ve melted under the warmth of your smile; would’ve withered as soon as you strolled in with your tattoo visible; would’ve fallen to his knees the second you said hello.

Taehyung has done none of those things, which Hoseok knows because he’s standing on a chair, watching from the window in his office. He knows Taehyung can see his face peeking through the blinds, keeps rolling his eyes whenever the two of them make eye contact, but he schools his expression and keeps Hoseok’s secret safe.

“I actually have some special recommendations for you today,” he hears Taehyung say. Watches as he hands over the bundle of paperbacks. “Our lovely head librarian thought you might be interested in these. He picked them out just for you.”

You look taken aback. It sends Hoseok into a panic, wondering if he’d gone too far. Maybe he should’ve listened to Taehyung, after all, but surely a stack of books is less forward and weird than a coffee date? You can just not read the books and return them if they aren’t your thing, but turning someone down face-to-face is much harder.

No, no—Hoseok did the right thing. He has to have faith in the plan.

“Wow,” you reply, a beautiful smile lighting up your face. “These look great. Please tell him I said thank you.”

Taehyung’s smile is not beautiful. It’s greasy and smarmy. “Oh, I most certainly will.”

Taehyungie (11:32am): Can’t make it into work today, hyung Taehyungie (11:32am): I’m super sick Taehyungie (11:32am): Sorry 😉

Hoseok can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Kim Taehyung is a traitor. A treasonist. A miscreant. Another word for a disloyal person who is not only willing to abandon his hyung in his time of need, but is gleeful about it.

What could Hoseok possibly have done in a past life to deserve this?

Doesn’t matter, he decides. This is totally fine. Hoseok’s going to prove Taehyung wrong. He’s going to have a proper conversation with you. He’s going to ask what you thought about the books he’d chosen. He’s going to recommend new ones. He’s going to flirt. He might even ask if you want to grab coffee sometime, and he’s going to relay all of this to Taehyung right before he tells him to go to hell.

Just one small hiccup: he has to survive you first.

You’re surprised to see him, and the way your eyes widen makes Hoseok’s heart skip a beat. God, he’s worse off than he thought. Gets worse when you reach the circulation desk and he can smell your perfume: something soft and earthy that reminds him of a spring breeze. Has his knees shaking, on the verge of buckling beneath him, and it’s only through pure spite that he stays upright.

“Good afternoon,” he says with a small wave.

You smile. “Hi, Hoseok. Haven’t seen you up here in a while.”

“Ah, well, you know. Paperwork.”

You nod, but the jerky motions of your head tell Hoseok you probably don’t do much paperwork at your job. “Yeah, of course. Is Taehyung out today?”

“Yep, took a sick day.” He shouldn’t, but he thinks Taehyung deserves it: “Sent me a text this morning and said it was coming out both ends. Seems bad.” You’re grimacing. Oh god, you’re grimacing. “Anyway! Here for your weekly return?”

Like a switch has been flipped, you scramble into action, reaching into your tote bag to retrieve the books. “I—yeah, sorry, let me just…”

“Sure, take your time. Did you like them?”

“Yes,” you answer, gaze slowly rising to meet his own. There are words clearly biting at the back of your teeth and, like Hoseok has done a million times before, you swallow them. Slowly, you hand over all the books but one. “I especially liked this one.”

The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro. Hoseok had agonized over that one for days, wondering if it was too much, if it’d send the wrong message. Some of the other books were more obvious, but this one was… well. It’s not what was said that’s important, it’s what wasn’t, and Hoseok had concocted that stupid plan because he couldn’t say what he wanted to.

But you’re handing it over with a hesitation that has Hoseok smiling despite himself. “Would you like to hang onto it a little longer?”

“Would that be okay?”

“Of course.” And then, because he’s brave and he doesn’t want to end up like one of Ishiguro’s characters, he takes advantage of a fleeting moment of bravery. “Maybe we could—aish. Would you like to discuss it over coffee sometime? The book, I mean. With me.”

You nod, and your smile is shy. “I would love to.”

#hoseok x reader #bts x reader #jhope x reader #hoseok fluff #hoseok imagine #hoseok fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #fic: jess drabbles #jewel answers #jewel writes

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homocrafting · 11 months

Text

turns out whatever instinct in me makes me want to make tma aus is unstoppable and all consuming. so here's qsmp tma au focused on the brazillians:

cellbit- he HAS to be the archivist ok this man is so eye aligned it's not even funny. HOWEVER because qcellbit and fcell are the same person, Events happened to him before he became the Archivist, ala from the archives grian. local paranormal enthusiast finds dead half eaten bodies, gets arrested for it (he SWEARS he didn't eat those people), goes to prison for 10 years, goes nuts (becomes F!Cell), kills himself in the island, wakes up in his room and Felps tells him "bro you disappeared for 10 days are you ok" and he's just like. What.

Worth mentioning that he fucking speedruns the archives. also known as the qsmp. Cucurucho, who is kind of like elias but a bit less (I inagine the Host would be elias, wjoever they are), thinks "wooo new archivist I wonder how long it'll take them to find out abt the horrors" and then cellbit shows up 3 days later running on 2 hours of sleep and 20 mugs of coffee with a consipracy board connecting a bunch of statements and theorizing about entities

ALSO the web is around him like all the time. if you pay attention there's at least 2 spiders near him at all times, usually hidden because he squishes them when he sees them. he's tangled in the web of lies that is the plot I'm making for this au and his ass is NOT beating it

Felps- Stranger type of guy who doesn't even know and takes like. a year to realise something's up with him. don't worry abt it ok I don't know why he's stranger-y to me either. it's the vibes just trust me

Mike- ok so. I am Very unsure for pac and mike, PLUS I've not seen herobrine a lenda, which means I don't know all their backstory, BUT I'm thinking Lonely for Mike, so far? he kind of distances himself from everyone after richas dies with him, so far is the only person I've not seen much gay happenings happen to, tends to disappear to fuckall nowhere apparently, as one does. also the fact that, back in prison, he seemed to have the most difficulty connecting with others.

also, the Desolation hates him personally. he doesn't know why. his house has burnt down thrice. he gets burnt by the littlest things for no reason. he's banned from the kitchen. an avatar of the desolation tried to kill him once. he watched his own son die in front of him. this is based on nothing from qsmp or anything I've seen Mike do I just think it's funny

Pac- I can only think of Vast and Spiral for him tee bee eich. Leaning heavily towards the Vast because, you know. gestures to the giant hide and seek maps, and also O RAIO, even though I have 0 context for that. he just... he explores the world and made giant hole (yeah yeah holes are the buried but consider: it's big.). it's his "I can show you the world" vibes. again dude just trust me

note abt tazercraft: both of them are very, very touched by the Spiral. reason? Chume Labs

Forever- I'm thinking either the Buried (mostly the digging aspect- he's destroyed a whole mountain and dug up and entire desert), or the Hunt (his intense hunt for Phil's love, the insane grinding that could be seen as hunting for resources, the werewolf hc my beloved). Leaning more towards the Hunt bc dogboyyyyy

The plot I have in mind is very different from the tma plot, but I'm not sure of everything yet, so for now you get this little bpnus :)

[CLICK]

[Cellbit]

We've been back from the Adoption Center for about a day now. Not a timely update, but things happened, and, well.

We found... we found a weird... creature. It- he? Acts human, although he can't talk. He communicates with us through a little notebook, and overall acts incredibly childish. He sure looks like a child. One with- with some material akin to... to egg shells as skin. He has hair, despite apparently being all... eggy. It's black and curly, covers his face. He doesn't like it when we try to move it away from there, but we're working on a safe way to see what's under there.

He seems not to know where he came from, but I know he's lying. It's- there's no way he doesn't, not with what he said, I don't care if Pac and Mike or, hell, Felps believes him, He called us fucking- he called us dads! That's the first fucking thing he said! It has to be some kind of trap, some kind of spy, I don't know yet but when I find out I'm going to fucking-

Shit. That wasn't too professional. Alright, where were we.

We brought him to the Institute. Forever and I weren't thrilled about the idea, but it was 3 against 2. I can't believe Felps would- I get Pac and Mike, there's something wrong with them I'm sure of it, but Felps? I underestimated his braincells. What am I talking about, he doesn't have any.

(Soft chuckle)

We, we named him Richarlyson, he seemed to like it. We asked his name first, but all he did was draw a- (Snort) a stick figure shrugging.

The only clothes he has are a singular oversized Brazil shirt. The moços and Felps want to go buy him clothes.

I don't know how they'll justify the kid having, I don't know, pure white hard skin, but they said not to worry about it, so I guess I won't! I won't. I fucking won't.

... I'm gonna follow them tomorrow. Just to be safe.

That's all for today, I'm gonna go- I'm going to check some statements, see if there's anything even remotely related to this.

This is Cellbit, Head Archivist of the QSMP, which I still don't known what stands for by the way, signing off.

[CLICK]

#cellbit #forever player #forever #richarlyson #felps #tazercraft #pactw #mikethelink #brazil world domination #qsmp #hmmm I need a tag for this au #the quesadilla archives #<- idk if that's gonna be permanent but that's it for now #favela five

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sp1cy-t0ss · 8 months

Text

Astrobleme

Antares is officially a series! This one is pure fluff.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49804744

‘Cuddling,’ Damian muses, is a more nuanced activity than he had thought as a child. There are a staggering variety of ways to do it, but he has found his favorite.

People are often clingy when they hug, squeezing even if they try to rein in the impulse. It could be tolerated, even enjoyed, from anyone allowed to survive the attempt, but sudden restriction of his movements and tight pressure could still bring a vague sense of unease if he wasn’t prepared.

Danny, as in most things, is different. He is more than content to nestle into Damian’s arms like he has always belonged there, simply soaking in the affection as though there’s no safer place in the world.

At the moment Danny is curled up against him, head on his shoulder as they lay on the ground somewhere in Midwestern America to stargaze. It’s not something Damian ever thought of doing in the past, but his companion makes all the difference.

Danny speaks of space with wide-eyed passion, rambling excitedly about the properties of each planet, achievements in exploration, and how this sky’s constellations vary from those in his own dimension. It’s hard to keep up at times, but his enthusiasm is infectious and endearing. It’s impossible to watch Danny’s eyes light up and not share in his wonder.

Damian’s favorite part of stargazing, however, is the stories. The night sky is a tapestry of myths and legends, and Danny seems to know them all by heart. He weaves their tales with a softer, almost reverent tone, eyes on the sky throughout. On those nights, he can hypnotize for hours.

“Antares, can I ask you something?” Danny’s gaze is fixed on the sky, as it has been for two hours now, but a subtle tension in his face betrays his nerves.

“Of course.”

Danny steels himself with a deep breath. “Iwantyoutobiteme.”

The words come out more like a bullet than a sentence, and are just as unexpected. Surely Damian heard wrong. Surely.

“What?”

Danny looks away, clearly mortified. “That’s my question. If you would...bite me. I swear I can explain.”

The mental image is admittedly captivating. Very captivating. He would make the most beautiful sounds...damn it, focus! Careful to let none of these idiotic thoughts show, Damian allows himself a raised eyebrow. “I did hear you correctly then. Why?”

Danny rolls over on his side to look at him.

“You know how I spent a few months in the Realms before I came here?” At Damian’s nod, he continues. “Well, um. I learned ghosts have a thing about scars. They’re memories, you know? We only get scars when there’s a lot of emotion involved.” He drags a hand down his face and groans. “You already know that, why am I telling you?”

He did. It was why his Beloved still bore faint burns from his so-called parents’ weapons.

“You may tell me again, if it will help,” Damian says patiently as he places a careful hand on Danny’s cheek. Danny does much of his on-the-fly thinking out loud, and this is clearly important to him.

Danny gives him a grateful look and relaxes into the touch. He takes a fortifying breath. “Right, right. Memories. And, well, most of those suck. Obviously. So ghosts will mark their best friends, their families, and…partners. Like tattoos, I guess. And...I want one from you. A memory that doesn’t hurt.”

Damian’s eyes widen in shock. They both enjoy the occasional teasing nip, but deliberate scarification is miles beyond that. The idea of irreversibly marking his Beloved, of injuring him to do so, is antithetical. He can’t.

And yet…an indisputable claim. A symbol of their bond that nothing could take away. His more possessive instincts virtually sing at the idea.

He needs more information. “...And a human can do this?”

Danny nods. “You’re liminal enough that it should work. But you wouldn’t be able to channel ectoplasm through a weapon like most ghosts do. You’d have to…bite. Maybe scratch, that might work.”

“I didn’t get to do it with my fraid before I left,” he admits. “We didn’t know about the…ritual, Dad calls it. Even if we had, everything happened so suddenly and...” Danny wilts at the unspoken memories.

“Are you certain you want my mark? It would be permanent,” Damian cautions. His Beloved can be so impulsive, after all.

“I know. I’ve thought about it for months, ever since our anniversary, and…even if Clockwork is wrong about us, even if we break up tomorrow…” Danny briefly looks pained, but he shakes it off with burning eyes. “I want to remember this.”

Damian suppresses a shiver at his conviction. The question is, does he want this? It seems a drastic act less than two years into a relationship. His rational mind wants to hesitate.

But…

A vigilante’s life is one of constant danger. Any ordinary day might tear him away from his family, his friends, this ridiculous boy who has stolen his heart. Even if he never falls in battle, Damian is only human, only mortal. His love, with any luck, will live for centuries or more.

The odds of becoming a ghost upon death are high in his circumstances, but there is no guarantee.

The pure hope shining in Danny’s eyes makes the decision for him. He cannot leave him behind. “So do I,” he finally says. “How will we do this?”

Damian is rewarded with a smile that could end wars. He can’t help but return it.

Danny sits up on his knees and braces himself with his arms, practically vibrating with anticipation. “It’s pretty simple. Dad says you just make the mark, and I…concentrate on you. How I feel.” He mumbles the last bit, embarrassed. “It’ll take a bit for the mark to settle though, so I’ll be out of it for a few minutes. Just let me come back on my own.”

Damian nods his understanding. “And where do you want it?”

“My wrist,” Danny says with no hesitation. “I want to see it all the time. ” Oh, it isn’t fair what those words do to him. Danny knows it too, if the glint in his eyes means anything. He transforms with a grin, but it fades in favor of a blush as he presents his upturned wrist.

Struck by inspiration, Damian drops to one knee as if proposing and lifts the offered wrist to his lips. Danny lets out an embarrassed meep at the gesture, as planned, but Damian isn’t done. A moment like this requires an appropriate vow.

“My eternity is yours, my love.” With that, he presses a gentle kiss against Danny’s pulse point, and bites down.

Cool flesh easily parts under his teeth, and he drags thick lines lengthwise another inch or so up Danny’s arm. The electric, almost citric flavor of ectoplasm fills his mouth. It tastes…good, contrary to his expectations, and he swallows the liquid on impulse before withdrawing.

For the finishing touch, Damian uses a fingernail to carve a thinner line back across the same skin in a simple, elegant flourish. It won’t do to have an identifiably human bite mark carry over to Danny’s human form, so an obscuring element will help disguise its origin. Perhaps more importantly, he has a point to make. After all, his Dove deserves only the best.

When the mark is complete, Danny gasps. He stares forward with eyes wholly consumed by green light, unresponsive. as though in a trance. A rumble of love-mine-excited-happy-LOVE radiates from him with startling strength, far beyond the rare faint impressions Damian is accustomed to from his Beloved. The ritual itself is all but forgotten as he basks in the emotions.

A ghost’s ability to project and sense emotions seemed like a glaring weakness at first. An aura cannot lie, and thus is a double-edged sword. Damian held that opinion, at least until an otherwise typical date nearly brought him to his knees when he sensed Danny’s emotions.

Feeling his new partner’s contentment, security, and honest affection toward him was… humbling. Addictive.

(He’s certain it always will be.)

After nearly ten minutes, Danny’s eyes dim and he blinks dazedly at his bleeding wrist. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, expression euphoric as he admires the wound. Though the scene is odd, knowing that he brought his partner this happiness brings Damian a rush of pride and warmth.

“Did it work?” he asks.

Danny faces him, his smile definitely beyond human limits now. “Yeah! See?” He shoves his wrist into Damian’s face once more.

Indeed, the wound looks as though it’s been healed for weeks. Raised lines stand out proudly from Danny’s skin with a faint silvery sheen. The only oddity is how wide the scar still is, as if something prevented normal human flesh from properly knitting together.

“Beautiful,” Damian hears himself whisper as he trails a finger down the marks. And they really are; his signature, right there for all to see on this most precious of things. The knowledge sits like embers in his chest, crackling with satisfaction.

Danny preens at the comment, and Damian realizes he can still feel the echoes of love-proud-mine from his Beloved. Perhaps it’s an effect of the scarification process.

Eventually Danny clears his throat. “Normally we’d both get one. But I know you can’t have identifying things like big scars, so I got you something instead.”

He reaches into his chest cavity and pulls out a black ribbon, carefully placing it in Damian’s hand. Closer inspection reveals the ribbon to be a silk choker, deep black and inlaid with gems that sparkle like nothing Damian has ever seen, in the exact green of Danny’s eyes. Deeper green thread connects the gems in a familiar shape: the Scorpius constellation.

“Crystallized ectoplasm,” Danny explains. “I made them from my own ‘plasm, so they have my ectosignature. Humans won’t know what it means, but ghosts and liminals will.” He gives a proud grin.

While Damian processes that, however, nerves rapidly encroach on Danny’s enthusiasm. His smile falls. “You don’t have to! I brought normal emeralds if that’s creepy! Unless–”

Damian hooks the choker into place, cutting off Danny’s fretting. The ribbon is exquisitely soft, flush against his neck without pressing into it. No one would be able to grab it in a fight, and the silk glides comfortingly across his skin as he turns his head. With a little focus, he can feel a faint chill from the gems.

It feels like home.

Damian finds himself fighting back watery eyes before speaking. A roughness in his voice still betrays him.

“I will treasure it. Thank you, Dove.”

Danny still makes no attempt to hide his own tears, pressing his forehead to Damian’s and wrapping him in a hug. It’s tight this time, but eagerly reciprocated.

“Thanks, Daylight. I love you so much.” The words are mumbled into his neck, and he meets them with a silent kiss to the half-ghost’s forehead. As their embrace loosens, Damian feels his Beloved slump against him. It seems the ritual is taxing on ghosts, and he feels himself flagging slightly as well. Carefully, he sets Danny on the ground and settles into a spooning position. It’s a warm spring night and there’s not a soul around for miles; they can rest here for a while.

It’s not surprising when Danny starts purring. He tends to lose control of the function while dozing – one of his many endearing quirks.

What startles them both into waking is the other purr that sounds out to answer it.

The boys bolt upright, cutting off the quiet rumble in Damian’s throat. Neither says anything for a long moment. Then Damian sighs. “We have to tell your father, don’t we.” It’s not a question. Gods only know what this means in terms of his growing liminality, no matter the cause.

Danny falls backward again with a groan. At the same time, his aura flares with abject mortification. “Oh Ancients, we have to tell him you bit me.”

“How dreadful,” Damian snarks. “I’m the one with five siblings that already call me a vampire.”

Danny laughs. “Good point– You’re totally screwed. Remind me to stock up on garlic, bee-tee-dubs.”

Damian glares without heat. “You’re the worst, Winters.”

“Oh yeah? Do you vant to suck my bluud about it?” Danny taunts, wiggling his fingers and hissing for effect.

A deep, theatrical sigh. “Pennyworth must cease feeding you after midnight.”

From there they settle into familiar bickering, but most of Damian’s mind is on other things. Tonight was a milestone, marking a stronger bond between them, yet it also feels like nothing has changed. He can’t bring himself to fear the future like Danny does, fully convinced they will be together forever. One day Danny will truly believe their happiness will last. Perhaps not someday soon, but Damian can wait.

He touches the ribbon around his neck, feeling pure devotion radiate from the glittering gems, and smiles.

After all, we have eternity.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dead serious #Damian Wayne #Antares #Spice posts #writing #dp x dc #my fic

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sailoryooons · 9 months

Note

Happy August Agust! For the fic request, how about some Yoongi fluff - Fae warrior Yoongi, while out on patrol, finds a human baby alone in the woods

❀ Pairing: Fae!Yoongi (ft. other members)

❀ Summary: Yoongi finds a human child in the most unlikely of places and discovers that perhaps he isn’t the most terrible father figure afterall.

❀ Word Count: 1,754

❀ Genre: Fantasy, found family, fluff

❀ Rating: SFW

❀ Warnings: Abandoned child in the woods, a little bit of tough love, Dad Yoongi who is like I’m Not Dad, vague world building, Yoongi teasing his kiddo, unedited!!!!

❀ Published: August 4, 2023

❀ A/N: Okay this is my first attempt at kid fic and I tried to keep it short and sweet. I really wanted to add the members in like one giant family and like all these uncle vibes and influences and GOSH I think this turned out very cute! Thank you SO much for requesting, I adore you and you always brighten my day with your thoughts and comments!! This is unedited!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask |Hali’s Happy Agust |

Crickets sing their nighttime hymn as Yoongi rides along the road. The moon is a full, silver coin in the sky, painting the world in pale gray light. The evergreens on either side of the road glow blue in the light, their shadows long and stretching in haunting shapes.

Yoongi does not fear the woods, no matter how dark the spaces between the boughs. He’s patrolled this route hundreds of times and he’ll do it a hundred more. Each night, he rides along the southern border, keeping close to the tree line that separates the fae and human territories.

For the most part, Yoongi’s nights are boring. He watches packs of direwolves move through the trees and goblins chitter as they run through the bushes. Sometimes, he spots a redcap heading toward the human territory before seeing him and fleeing back into the fae country.

Rare are the times he sees humans. The humans don’t dare to cross the southern forest that splits the continent in half. Though some villages and cities deep in the human lands no longer believe in the fae, the northerners near the border know that the fae are real and just beyond the trees.

The time of war against the humans has long passed, but the memory of the fae is enough to haunt human tales and superstition over campfire.

A soft cry catches Yoongi’s attention. He sits a little straighter in his saddle, tilting his head toward the forest that stretches between the two countries. The back of his neck tingles and just when he thinks it’s nothing more than a distant echo on the when, he hears the distinct sound of crying.

Spurring his horse into a fast-walk, he heads into the tree, following the sound. It sounds distinctly like the cries of a child, worry forming like a pit in the bottom of his stomach.

It only takes a moment to find a bundle of blankets at the foot of a tree. Sliding from his horse, Yoongi feels his heart thundering in his chest, anxiety setting in as he slowly approaches the bundle. Instinct tells him he’s going to find exactly what he expects. Dread sets in when he looms over the bundle and peers down at the round, tiny face of a crying baby.

A mess of dark hair sits atop the child's head. It’s swaddled tightly in wool blankets, but the bundle rocks as the baby has a fit. Yoongi crouches down slowly and reaches out gently, swiping the silk-soft hair from the side of the baby’s head. He swears under his breath when he sees small, rounded ears. It is the tiniest of babes, the runt of the litter.

Minutes pass. Yoongi stares down at the child that now cries in earnest, its wails sharp and punctuated with gasps from its mighty little lungs. Looking around, he sees no sign of parents. No footsteps, no horse tracks, nothing.

A few yards away, Yoongi spots a circular ring of mushrooms and he tightens his fists. He could have spotted the faerie ring right away, but the babe was set down away from it, out of sight. Yoongi knows he’ll have to alert Namjoon immediately that someone has swapped a child with a changeling.

With a heavy heart, Yoongi reaches out and plucks the child from the ground. He bends down slightly and inhales, smelling lilac and milk. He realizes that the baby is a little girl, with plump cheeks. She opens her eyes and looks at him, their dark depths shining with the reflection of the moon.

Yoongi has no idea what to do with the child. But knowing he can’t leave her on the ground to die, he sighs and cradles her to his chest. Immediately, her cries stop. Her heartbeat thrums against his chest as he turns to his horse, careful as he mounts with the child in his arms.

“You’re only staying with me for a night,” he mutters at the babe, who has yet to take her round eyes off him. “You’re going straight to Jin in the morning.”

“Nari,” Yoongi sighs heavily, putting his head in his palm. “You have to eat your vegetables. I don’t care if you don’t like them. You can’t be a little runt forever, you have to grow strong.”

“They smell weird,” she complains, shoving around the greens on her plate. Her wild, black hair is plaited down her back thanks to Jimin’s nimble fingers, and she smells like the lavender and oatmeal soap that Taehyung gifted her. “I don’t want to.”

This is one of the hardest parts of life with Nari, Yoongi things. What turned into housing a babe for a single night transformed into a life that Yoongi doesn’t yet know how to define.

He remembers that first night. It was awful. The baby had cried all night, screaming with a rage that Yoongi did not know that human children possessed. He’d half-convinced himself by morning that the baby was actually a demon disguised as a human and had every intention of telling Seokjin to take her to a monastery in the human lands.

But then the sun had risen and Yoongi was reminded of a song about the dragonflies and lilies that his father used to sing to him. As the words came back to him, he found himself singing them quietly under his breath and for the first time that night, the baby was silent. Watching him. Curious.

When Seokjin had finally arrived at the house, Yoongi found himself too enamored by the dark eyes and the blinding smile when he’d sing the baby and bounce, finally unlocking the secret to her silence and joy.

Now, he doesn’t know how to get her to do anything. Nari is as stubborn as she was when he found her, and now that the five year old has a voice, she can talk back to him.

“Let’s make a deal,” Yoongi sighs. He doesn’t know where a human picked up such a fae habit, but Nari perks up at the sound of a deal. She does nothing without compromise and is always looking to needle him into a bargain. She’d be a very good trickster, he thinks. “You eat your vegetables every night, and I will let you start training with Jungkook and I in the mornings.”

She narrows her eyes. “And with Uncle Hoseok in archery.”

He rolls his eyes. “And in archery.”

Nari extends her tiny hand over to him. “I, Nari of the Min Household, swear to hold up my end of the bargain by blood and bone.”

“I, Yoongi of the Min household, Sentry of Hala and Shadow of the King, swear to hold up my end of the bargain by blood and bone.”

Leaning over the table, Yoongi shakes her hand. It feels so small and fragile in his, but she grips him tight, squeezing her little fingers as much as she can. When she lets go, she gives a self-satisfied smirk and stabs a piece of broccoli and pops it into her mouth.

“I actually like when you use more salt,” she says around a mouthful. “These are fine, though.”

Only until her happy humming as she eats does Yoongi realize he’s been played.”

“Stop crossing your feet,” Yoongi calls, crossing his arms over his chest. He watches you with laser-like focus, tracking your movements as your right foot circles behind your left. “You’ll get knocked on your ass if you keep doing that. Side-step, but keep your center of gravity wide, Nari.”

“I’ll knock you on your ass,” she mutters, correctly her foot work before bending at the knee and taking her stance again. Jungkook is across from her, wooden sword held up, grin on his face. “Jimin crosses his feet.”

“Jimin is the best swordsman in the kingdom. You are a little runt who can’t disarm Jungkook.”

To anyone else, it might seem mean. Perhaps it is. Yoongi doesn’t know how else to motivate her. Like Jungkook, Nari is a perfectionist with a vicious pride, driven by the need to do everything with the perfect execution. Like Taehyung, though, she is stubborn and hot headed.

Jungkook leaps forward and the connecting thwack of wood against wood rings out again. The two of them fill the small clearing behind Yoongi’s cottage with clacking. Yoongi keeps his eyes trained on them, ignoring Namjoon and Seokjin who come piling out the house with Hoseok and Jimin behind them.

Nari doesn’t break her concentration despite her audience. If anything, being under the full weight of her little family makes her swing at Jungkook harder. Yoongi sees the way her movements blend together, keeping a rhythm and flow of motion but no discernable pattern.

When Nari spins under Jungkook’s wooden blade and uses her small size to her advantage to keep spinning and get to the side of him, bringing her wooden weapon down on his wrist and making him yelp and drop his sword, Yoongi straightens.

While Jungkook yells about his injured wrist, Nari grins and looks over at the group of men gathered on the steps. Yoongi ignores them all as they cheer, shooting compliments at the beaming child and applauding her for disarming Jungkook.

Taehyung comes in through the gate, brows raised. “What are we cheering for?”

“I disarmed Uncle Jungkook!”

“Did you? Do it again, I want to see!”

“No way,” Jungkook cries out. “She’s got a demon swing for a twelve year old. That shit hurts!”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi warns, making the younger blush and bow his head. “Language, please.”

“Yeah,” Nari teases as she picks up his dropped weapon and hands it to him. “Language.”

Jungkook takes the weapon back from her with a scowl and she beams, flashing him perfect rows of teeth as she bows. Yoongi chuckles as Jungkook mutters under his breath, bowing in return before Nari turns and scampers over to Yoongi, her face red with effort and brow sweaty.

“Did you see that, dad?” she gushes. “I disarmed Jungkook!”

Yoongi’s heart seizes at the word. It’s used so rarely between them. Something unavoidable, perhaps. For so long he had her call him Yoongi until she was finally corrupted by Namjoon and Seokjin to call them by family names. Dad. Uncle. Her family.

“Yeah,” Yoongi hums, opening his arm up as she plops down on his knee, tired. “It was very impressive. He deserved the smack on the wrist, well done.”

“Aren’t you proud?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi smiles. “I am, Runt.”

#yoongi fluff #dad yoongi #suga fluff #dad suga #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts fluff #found family #halis happy agust

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changenbirthenstein · 6 months

Text

Of the Forest

(TF WARNING: Girl into Treefolk)

(Content Warning: Vaginal Tearing)

I was so close to leaving.

I'd lived in DePaign my entire life, seen and dealt with awful people being awful to each other for as long as I can remember. But it was only a few weeks before I graduated collage, and I could leave this crummy, misogynistic cesspool for good. But there was one last thing I had to do. One thing that I had to satiate my curiosity of, that I would never be able to move beyond if I didn't at least explore it.

There were thick, foreboding woods surrounding the town. It was impossible to see very far into them as the trees were packed alongside each other so tightly. One of my friends growing up had walked into those trees off of a dare her brother had given her, and when she came out she was... different. For the rest of the time I knew her, she seemed to be far away, like there was something my friend could hear that nobody else could, constantly distracting her.

The quiet, reserved girl told me one day. Of a grove filled with the most beautiful trees ever. A river along a clearing. Of places where the air seemed to sparkle, a sweet scent heavy on it. She drew me a map of all the most lovely places in the woods, how to get in, how to come back. And then, a week later, she vanished. Nobody ever saw her again.

I know where she went. I hope that, whatever my nature-loving friend found, it made her happy. But I kept that map. I always wanted to go looking for her, but I could never work up the nerve, telling myself I was too young, too frail.

No longer. Now, I was ready to find the girl that had vanished so very long ago, or at the very least see the beauty that had driven her to leave everyone and everything she knew behind.

The sun was just peeking over the treetops as I stood in front of the beginning of the path. It was the place anyone who chose to walk among the trees usually started, well worn, though by my understanding not for very far. Still, it was a good enough place to begin. Part of me was excited at the idea of finding my childhood friend once more, another eager to see all the breathtaking sights I'd had described to me. Filled with confidence, I strode within the brown and green wall.

I walked for some time, consulting my map every few moments. It was surprisingly detailed for a child's drawing, and I'd gone to great lengths to keep it as well preserved as I could. The landmarks were easy to recognize, and I managed to avoid any ground that was too treacherous.

But as I strode through the increasingly dark woods, I began to grow uneasy. I had a strange feeling, as though someone was following me, watching me intently. At times I stopped, and I could swear I heard footsteps for just a moment longer. At others I would hear a rustle of leaves, or the creaking of wood bending. It was concerning, and as I focused more on the stranger that seemed to be following me, I began to check my map less often.

Before I knew it, I was lost. I had no idea when I'd even missed a landmark, but now all the trees looked the same, and nothing shared any resemblance to the things my friend had drawn. I tried to stay calm, continuing to take careful steps, attempting to get my bearings. But as I tried to focus on recovering my path, whatever was stalking me seemed to grow closer.

Finally, I had to stop. Exhausted from walking so long and hungry, I took off my pack and sat on a rock, deciding I would eat before continuing.

The footsteps were so close now. I could hear them just behind me. I was terrified to turn around, I didn't want to see what was there, didn't want to know what they wanted. I only wanted to escape. Some instinct told me that whatever this thing was, it wasn't natural, wasn't human.

I took one deep, steadying breath. Then I stood and turned quickly, gasping as I finally saw the thing that had been following me.

It almost looked like a person. Two arms, two legs. Even wearing tattered clothing. Long, mossy-green hair flowed over the creatures shoulders. A round, heavy-looking orb graced my feminine-appearing stalker, almost as though she was pregnant.

Her skin was rough brown bark, covered with moss in places and with little flowers here and there pushing out. It was like an ent or a tree folk from a fantasy novel, but human sized. And its eyes...

I recognized them. A deep brown, but with that distracted look I'd known so well... the gaze that I was looking for....

The tree person smiled, and slowly walked closer, rubbing her belly. I was frozen, half in fear and half in wonder. This wasn't possible... what had happened to her, how had she changed so much, let alone gotten pregnant like this?!

The forest dweller was right in front of me now. Slowly, she reached out a hand, carefully resting it on my midsection, just above my pubic area. Then, just as tenderly, she began to stroke the area beneath her palm, making me shiver and groan. A heat began to build inside me, subtle at first, but getting more intense by the moment.

There was tension. A feeling of something moving, something going into me, taking root. Something powerful, unimaginable, invasive and controlling. I didn't want it there, and I tried to back away, to run, but my body wouldn't respond. I just quivered, staring into those familiar eyes as this thing finished working its terrible enchantment.

"Ohhh... it... it feels b-bad... what are you d-doing to me? Pleeeaaase... stop don't do this..." I could barely force the words out as the twisting, corrupting sensation coiled deep within my core, feeling like it was getting bigger, stronger as my former friend continued caressing my midriff. A soft smile answered me, but nothing more.

Finally, the pregnant creature released me, and I fell back, gulping in air. Shooting me a wide, friendly grin, the bark-covered humanoid went back to cradling her belly, and walked back into the trees, vanishing from sight within seconds.

I was in no state to stop her, or chase her, or really do much of anything productive. There was something INSIDE me, I could feel it. Something digging into me, feeding off me and growing. And just as much as it was taking from my body, I could feel it pumping something back. Deep in the core of my being, I could feel something within me that wasn't OF me, something that girl had forced into my body... somehow. Some impossible way that I couldn't even begin to comprehend.

Whimpering, I was curled in a tight ball on the forest floor, clutching my aching, throbbing midsection as the thing that the tree person planted in my belly continued its work. It was impossible to move, impossible to focus. I could feel whatever enchantment had been placed on me spreading, moving through my veins, a kind of oozing, dripping corrupting influence. The magic was spreading up through my chest, and down toward my crotch and thighs. It burned, ached, making me gasp and cry out as I fought to rise, to reach out for my bag, anything.

Then, beneath my palms, a new horror made itself known. My eyes flew open wide as, ever so gradually, the area I was holding, the point from which all the rest of this was occurring, began to swell. The tiny bump was hard, my skin felt tight. I realized what it was immediately, but I shook my head, trying to deny it. I couldn't be... There was no way...

My belly continued to push outward, the abnormally warm surface tugging the skin of my hand out, showing that it was in fact growing, that something was filling me from within. Some creature had nestled within my womb, put there by some sorcery I couldn't comprehend.

I finally forced myself onto my knees, every movement sending pain throbbing through my body, everything feeling stiff and uncomfortable. I leaned my back against the rock that I had been sitting on before and looked down, taking in my appearance. Sure enough, the area above my groin was starting to poke out from under my shirt, and making my pants feel too tight. Tears running down my face, I stroked my life-filled womb as the one who had done this to me had, without even thinking about the, the motion somehow soothing even as I felt my form being ravaged by whatever had been done to me.

I had been wearing a t shirt and bra, as well as a loose-fitting pair of shorts with ankle socks and sneakers. As I looked down, I could see dark lines starting to work their way down my legs as my... my pregnancy progressed. It felt awful to think it to myself, that I somehow had been forced into bearing life. That I was going to have to deliver some terrible creature that was even now growing within my uterus.

As I watched, my belly continued to grow, and the dark lines spread. Gradually working their way down my legs, and my arms as the fire in my chest moved continued spreading as well. I even felt the dark magics moving up my throat, across my face, to the very top of my head as my feet began to twitch, cramps racing through them.

I was getting big. I looked well into my second trimester if not my third. I could feel... whatever it was. It was moving, kicking. I was really pregnant, I really was going to have a baby, right here, lost and scared. "Make it stop..." I sobbed, as the pain in my feet and hands mounted. "I don't want this, please... it's not fair!" My words devolved into strained whimpers and growls as my condition progressed. My bellybutton was pulled flat, and then began to be forced into an outie. My shirt was utterly failing to cover any of my fertile swell now, showing the skin that seemed red and irritated, dark lines running along my belly as well as odd lumps showing up here and there as the thing I had forced into me continued moving.

I knew what was coming. If I denied it, everything would just be harder, unimaginably so. Cheeks burning with shame, I fumbled with the button of my shorts, pulling them and my panties down my thighs, my shins, and then off of my ankles. I ended up tugging off one of my shoes, but left the other one on. I was just too sore and overwhelmed to mess with my clothes too much, simply glad that I wouldn't be pushing this... this THING into my underwear.

And I chose to remove my clothes just in time, too. There was a stronger sensation starting to build within me. Tightness. Squeezing. Like a cramp gone crazy. I knew what it was. There's no mistaking it, and it forced a defeated cry from me as my fingers dug into the ground enduring my first contraction.

The second came after only a minute or two to try to get comfortable, and was at least three times as strong as the first. My third contraction left me begging for the pain to stop, and was already seconds after the former. Then, with the next... there was a quiet pop. Something began running down my exposed womanhood, something that might have once been amniotic fluid, but now... it was thick, sticky. It didn't gush from my swollen lips, but rather dribbled out, making me shiver as it coated my sensitive gender, making a warm, disgusting pool. I reached down hesitantly, touching the substance and bringing it before my face. It was a dark green, like the leaves of a tree, and carried a heavy scent.

I flicked my birthing goo off my hands, terrified that such a substance had come from within my body. Everything felt wrong, twisted, like something was fighting my body, trying to make it be something it isn't, was never meant to be. Then, I felt it. The instinctual need that so many mothers-to-be feel. The need to push.

There was no resisting, not with how unnaturally strong this labor was, not with how mentally and emotionally exhausted I was after this nightmarish experience. Opening my legs as wide as I could, I gave in, pushing with the pain, feeling something, whatever had grown within my invaded womb, starting to shove roughly against my cervix, forcing it wider, starting to come through. And, as I pushed, I caught sight of my hands.

They were wrong. The dark lines went all the way to my fingertips, but... there was something else. The tips of my fingers seemed swollen, darker, like they were bulging with something hidden within the skin. I didn't realize how badly my hands were hurting until I caught sight of them, but now it was impossible to ignore.

Once more a contraction raced through me, and I couldn't resist the need to bear down. But, as my eyes watered and the head of my unasked for offspring began to enter my birth canal, I felt something under my skin, something pressing forward, and I saw my fingertips inching forward, pale and straining. Then, as I continued pushing, I saw something pierce my skin, starting to grow from my hands.

It looked like... like little twigs. It was brown, and had a rough texture. And... somehow, it was like I could still feel them. The injuries bleed for a moment, but stopped quickly. Indeed, it appeared as though my skin was just kind of... fusing with the object inching out of my hands, as the brown texture began to gradually eat its way back along my fingers, until all five of them looked like slim branches.

Horrified, I starred as the need to deliver surged through me once more. I pushed, but it seemed like it was effecting more than just the thing that had been placed within my womb. Little leaves sprouted as I pushed, I could feel them breaking the surface of my new fingers, and the bark seemed to spread further back along my hand.

I realized then that my feet were hurting badly too. Panicking, I kicked at one of my ankle socks, trying to get it down.

My right foot was bare, showing a mass of black lines. And, as I struggled once more to give birth, crying out at how intense my labor was, my screams increased in pitch as I watched my toes. They twisted, warped, something was growing out of every part of my foot until finally what was left of my skin just tore apart. There was a mass of roots growing out from what used to be my foot, I could feel them digging into the dirt and starting to absorb nutrients and water, flowing up the dark lines and into my system.

My other foot was no better off, and I let out a defeated whimper as my sock began to squirm and bulge, before it finally was shredded, showing the limb had also become nothing more than a writhing mass of pale shafts. Then, as I continued pushing, I could see the brown texture that had taken over most of my hand eating its way up my leg.

I was changing. Transforming. The girl, the one I thought had to have been my friend... when she'd magically impregnated me, she must have also done this. I was transforming into a tree folk, just like her. And every push, every bit closer I came to delivering this... this THING, was stealing away a little more of my humanity.

I tried to resist. I didn't push with the next contraction, no matter how bad it hurt, gritting my teeth and curling my... my roots, to try not to give in to my feminine instincts. But the head inched down, even without my help, though much more slowly. And as it moved, so too did I see the changes continue. Before long, My arms all the way to the elbow and legs up to the knee were entirely covered with bark, my chest was aching, throbbing, my nipples impossibly sensitive, and I could feel my soft, mercifully unchanged gender bulging with the hard, textured, massive head of the monster I'd been forced to deliver.

I could still move my limbs, could even lift my legs from the ground, the roots pulled up when I wanted to move and settled back in when I stopped. It felt... natural, but wrong. The easiest thing but also clearly not human, not ME. My hands worked just as they did before, gripping the back of my still skin-coated thighs, the feeling harsh on the sensitive flesh as I squeezed and fought to not give in, to not deliver the nightmarish baby that was stealing my humanity.

But I'd been fighting so long. I couldn't resist anymore, and the next contraction was so bad I had to relent, had to do anything to ease the pain.

My bulging womanhood began to part around the head, the bark scratching and cutting my delicate flesh as I screamed. Not just due to the terrible sensation of my unasked for baby emerging from my gender, but a new feeling coming from my right nipple. Bringing my hands up, I tore off my top, leaving me entirely naked on the forest floor, trapped mid transformation and mid delivery.

Eyes watering, I looked down to figure out why there was some terrible pressure coming from within my breast, only to see the entire thing had become a pale green with thick, dark lines going from the tip of my nipple all the way to the base. The pushing sensation was getting worse, and as I once more bore down, something began to happen. My emerald colored boob began to twitch and pulse, bulging and contracting, until at last...

The skin split as I shrieked, the rough, hard head opening me wider, the burning between my legs getting worse. My nipple opened like a flower bud blooming. It opened wider by the moment, my entire breast consumed, parting wide to become a beautiful red flower, releasing a sweet scent that wafted around me. To my horror the other side wasn't far behind, I could feel it struggling to blossom as the next contraction began to build energy.

I fought as long as I could. But the birth still continued, nature would not be denied, and this foul enchantment couldn't be stopped. Howling, I gripped the backs of my knees once more as I bore down, feeling my other breast tearing apart, opening into a stunning crimson blossom leaking a pale substance, probably what was left of my destroyed milksack.

I could feel the bark starting to creep up my thighs as the head of my inhuman child continued to slip forward, even as my tender womanhood throbbed and ached. It was coating most of my body as well, inching up my neck and under my jaw. It was only a matter of time before I was consumed. I realized that I'd never be the same, never be able to leave this place, never be able to see my friends and family again. That the rest of my life would be in this forest, and it was all because of that stupid tree folk and this terrible creature that I'd gestated and was now giving the gift of birth to.

Another screaming push, and I felt my slit pushed to its limits. The head felt so big, and the skin was tight, sore. I knew I needed to stop pushing, but I couldn't. I couldn't resist this magic, couldn't resist my baby. I had to let it change me, use me, consume me utterly and make me into something new. The rough brown grew up my cheeks as I pushed, Along my thighs and over my butt, starting to encroach on my pubic region.

Small shoots began to push out from my fingers and hands, as well as smaller versions of the buds that my beasts had been before they changed. Each one hurt as it grew, and then spiked with pressure as they opened, covering what used to be skin with leaves and bright red flowers.

I was a beautiful, swollen, fertile plant girl. But all I could feel was disgust and sadness as I once more struggled to push this thing I'd never wanted inside me out, alongside the last bits of humanity. The bark began to close in around my wide open womanhood as I cried out, rough thighs trembling under my hands, as I felt myself starting to tear. The sharp skin of my unasked for child combined with its size began to make a small rip down, but it was stopped by the tougher, firmer texture the magic was forcing on me.

I kept pushing, and the last bits of my skin hardened and darkened, more blossoms pushing out of the hard substance that had replaced my flesh as my womanhood twitched, my bizarre offspring sitting at a full crown. Just a bit more and it would be over. Or, at least, the thing I was giving birth to would be out. This... this new life, this new body... I know I'd never escape it, that this was my new reality. It would never be over.

My voice dry and low, my cries barely even sounding human, I threw back my head and shrieked as I bore down, the head emerging from between my legs with a wet sucking sound, a surge of the sticky green fluid oozing from my mutated slit. I kept pushing without rest at the shoulders slipped forward as well. It was coming so fast, I could hear crackling as the twisted flesh of my gender struggled to compensate before there was a loud crack, like a snapped branch.

I was tearing again, the shoulders were breaking my sex apart, they were too wide and hard, and my entire body convulsed as rapid, brittle snapping filled the air as I was ripped open. It was bad, I could feel it, my skin was too stiff down there, not flexible anymore. It couldn't possibly open up enough to pass the body of my baby anymore, so it was just breaking open, the wound becoming deeper, beginning to rupture deep inside.

It was unspeakably painful, as I felt my vagina splitting, the damage reaching all the way down to where my anus used to be, becoming one massive hole as a light green warm fluid ran from the wound. All I could do was push and spasm as I tried to get it over with as quickly as possible.

Then, at long last, it was done. I looked down, and saw what could only be described as a baby tree person. Covered in bark instead of skin, writhing roots instead of feet, and a thick, dark green vine leading back up between my legs. The world spun as I fell back, and I closed my eyes as I tried to deny my new reality, tried not to think about everything I'd lost, all the friends I could never see again...

)----------

It's been the better part of a year now. Life is... strange, here in the forest, with this new body. The tearing never healed, if anything it deepened as the rest of my form finished the more subtle changes that had been forced on me. My belly also never shrank, giving me the appearance of being perpetually pregnant. It is not far off from the truth, in so far as I can tell.

Never again would I deliver a child the way I had before, no longer being capable of it. My womb, my ovaries, everything had been consumed utterly by the needs of my new body. Instead, once every month, a fruit I had never seen as a human grows inside of me. Some of the males will take it from me, after I deliver it, and wander through the woods.

They search for a new place to plant it, where it will grow and bloom, releasing pollen that can inflict a terrible transformation on those that trespass on our territory. Those poor souls merely join the common foliage of the forest, however, becoming bushes and trees themselves, not a forest guardian like me. I actually was for luckier than I at first thought when my long lost friend came and cast her spell on me. I was already infected, you see. I would have left, spent time with friends and family, and then left a map or a cryptic note as the girl I'd been searching for had before subconsciously finding somewhere to take root, enduring a slow and painful transformation into an inanimate plant.

But now... at least I can live. Walk, talk, write, even sing. Though no songs I knew before, no words that I used to speak. There is a new tongue now, one slow and deep, the voice of life and nature.

I miss them. The humans I left behind. But every day, every fruit I deliver, I remember them less. Just impressions of emotions, longing to see them again. But I know that, someday, I will. The pollen spreads, bit by bit. We know, eventually, that the flesh folk will be overwhelmed by the creeping call of our fruit. One by one, they'll come to see us, and join their kin in this forbidden place where no human was meant to walk. They will return to the earth, ceding to the inevitable call of this place

And, no matter how long it takes, we will be waiting for them, with open arms.

#transformation #tf #girl to treefolk #birth #crowning #tearing #rapid pregnancy

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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 2 years

Text

Deadmen Got No Luck

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Female!Reader

With your eyes set on killing Vecna and protecting the ones you love, you’re a woman on a mission. But - of course - everything spins out of control when you come face to face with Henry slash Vecna slash One, losing more than you bargained for. Inspired by Saint PHNX, “Deadmen” and by the wonderful human being that is Joe Keery.

Warnings: Angst. A/N: Look at me, hashing out 2 fics in one week? This is 100% an AU and a product of my crazy imagination. Also a bit of a rewrite of the end of Season 4 with the reader inserted. There’s going to be more parts that nobody asked for - it’s happening anyway. Thank you for reading in advance! Gif not mine.

When you auditioned for the cheerleading squad 3 years ago, at the final round of selections, Chrissy Cunningham asked you a question.

“What’s your weakness, Henderson?”

An easy enough question, which didn’t take you more than 5 seconds to answer.

“I’m too stubborn for my own good”, you said, without batting an eye.

Even now, as you’re pouring kerosene in one glass bottle after another, passing the half-finished weapons to Steve to seal, there is an unyielding stubbornness about you that doesn’t allow you to be scared. As Robin mentions Vecna’s-slash-Henry’s-slash-One’s name, a wave of courage rises inside your chest against all common sense.

Who wouldn’t be afraid of an inter dimensional psycho - who has probably been dropped often as a child - on a warpath against the entire world as you know it?

“I have this terrible, gnawing feeling… That it might not work for us this time”, Robin says, her deep blue eyes emanating nervousness that doesn’t shock you anymore - it has long since established its home there. Her gaze switches between you and Steve, and while Steve puts down the bottle he is holding, you continue pouring kerosene into the Molotov cocktail, the stubbornness winning, yet again.

“You think we shouldn’t be doing this?” Steve’s expression grows concerned, as he frowns at Robin, before stealing a quick glance at you.

“I think we’re mad fools, the lot of us”, Robin speaks slowly, looking between you and Steve, as she picks up the bottle and stuffs a piece of cloth in its neck. “But if we don’t stop him, who will?”

She bites down on her bottom lip and turns away from Steve and you to put the bottle on the ground.

“We have to try,” you voice what’s on everyone’s mind, in a tone that doesn’t warrant a discussion. Instinctively, your gaze drifts to Steve’s face, and your eyes lock.

There’s something heartbreaking in those deep brown irises as he nods; the sound of Eddie’s shenanigans and kids’ amused chuckles wrapping around the two of you like thick fog. Your own eyes soften as you catch Steve committing your every single trait to memory; he doesn’t blink as he studies your face, the stray hairs that escaped your messy bun framing your cheeks. Your heart aches at the sight of his stare turning glassy.

“Yeah”, he manages, still unblinking, his voice breaking. Before you can realise what you’re doing, you find his hand with yours and squeeze it, even just for a fleeting moment.

The knowing look Robin gives the pair of you is entirely lost on you and Steve. Her lips stretch in a saddest of smiles as she drops her head; it’s Harrington’s voice that invites her into the little safe space Steve and you have created for yourselves; even just for a minute.

“To killing Vecna”, he says, a ghost of smile adorning his full lips. He stretches out a bottle, leaning over to you and Robin, so you can join him in a celebration of a sinister common purpose.

You don’t waste a second to respond, your eyes burning with resolution.

“Slash Henry”, you click one of the bottles you’ve filled against his.

“Slash One”, Robin adds, completing the ritual with a bottle of her own.

If only the actual deed was that simple.

“Uh- I don’t mean to freak anyone out, but I swear I’ve seen this tree before.”

Robin looks like a wounded rabbit, jumping from one foot to another, avoiding the vines littering the dead, dry ground. You heart almost stops every time her shoe brushes too close to the Upside Down’s monotonous flora, and you make an effort to tear your gaze away from her dance, just to save yourself from a heart attack.

“That’s impossible”, you reassure her, looking ahead, narrowing your eyes to better study your surroundings, with dust, or whatever the hell this is, floating around you in flakes.

“That would suck, right?” Robin parries in a taut voice. “If Vecna destroyed the world because we got lost in the woods?”

“We’re not lost, Robin”, Nancy counters in a tone that’s a tad too harsh, but you don’t blame her. Everyone’s on edge, you all just have different ways of expressing it.

Robin, for example, lets out an obnoxious, but also hella nervous laugh and speeds ahead between the trees, the Molotov cocktails attached to her hip swinging back and forth dangerously.

Your eyes grow wide and your breath catches in your chest.

“Robin, hey!” You call after her, albeit in vain. “Watch out for the vines!” You resist the urge to run after her and smack her ass just for the hell of it. “Hive mind, remember?”

“Thank you!” Robin yells back, without slowing down. You sigh. You’re pretty sure that by the time you get out of here - if you get out of here - it’ll be with 30 more years on you.

Nancy eyes both you and Steve for a second. Something you can’t quite decipher crosses her expression, but before you can really pin down what that was, she holds her DIY gun tighter to her chest and says: “I’ve got her. Hey, Robin, wait up!” She jogs after Buckley, careful not to put her feet where they shouldn’t go.

This leaves Steve and you walking together. Close. Closer still, when both of you avoid a vine on the ground, bumping shoulders, your fingers brushing against one another’s.

“Jesus”, you exhale a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “Robin’s like the definition of a super klutz. You search the word in the dictionary, there’s her goddamn photo under it!”.

Steve chuckles softly at your words, both of you moving steadily forward and stepping further away from each other as you search for a safe place to step on.

“It’s just… It did take her longer to walk then most babies…” Steve shrugs, waiting for your reaction as he looks at you from a corner of his eye.

“Not helping, Harrington,” you fire back through gritted teeth, trying to stay alert between stepping in all the right places and keeping an eye on Robin in the distance. Nancy has now caught up with her, and both of them are marching forward hand in hand.

“She’s in good hands with Nance”, Steve speaks, as if reading your thoughts. When you raise your glance to look at him, he is focused on the pair in front of you, gentleness enveloping every syllable that leaves his mouth. “Whatever level of klutz she may be”. You smile at this small sign of affection in Steve’s demeanour. Something tugs softly at your heart when your eyes meet again, and the gentleness is still there, even multiplied by a thousand.

You walk in a comfortable silence for a minute or two, stealing not-so-discreet glances at each other, making sure the other one is careful about where they’re placing their feet.

“Uh, I actually, crawled backwards”, Steve suddenly says, scratching the back of his neck. “When I was a baby, I mean”, he adds, cocking his head to a side, as his eyes travel to your face. “Pushed my hands kind of like this”, he stretches his arms forward and makes the shrillest of sounds, “Beep Beep”.

You cannot fight a smile that blooms on your face, nor the giggle that escapes you, as you don’t take your eyes off him.

“Always in reverse, you know?”, you can’t tell whether you imagine it, but you can almost catch Steve’s cheeks growing rosy in the dimness of the forest.

“Let me guess,” you press your lips together for a moment, as if pondering over something. You decide to hold him out a helping hand in trying to diffuse the atmosphere. “Until you reversed your baby Harrington butt down a flight of stairs, right?”

Steve stops mid-step, his head snapping to face you with awe in his eyes.

“Yeah, actually”, he responds slowly, before marching on. “And thumped my head real good.”

You can’t help but chuckle wholeheartedly, throwing your head back in joy.

“Oh”, you manage through a grin. “That explains so much”.

Steve actually joins in as you chortle in delight. His eyes are almost glowing with warmness and comfort. You realise he’s completely at ease with you making fun of him - while on a killing mission in Upside Down.

“I think it kind of does,” he smiles at you, not missing a beat. “I think, right out of the gate, like, I’m super confident. But I’m also, like, an idiot”, the two sentences clammed together in a phrase make you laugh softly again, covering your mouth. Steve is rambling now, which is just hella cute. Has always been. He rambles on. “Which is just… I mean, it’s a brutal combination”, he agrees with your unspoken words, before correcting himself. “Was a brutal combination. Until something - or rather, someone - landed a blow on my head, like, of nuclear proportions. Changed my life.” Something changes in the air - and it has nothing to do with where you’re at. Without even realising it, both you and Steve have come to a halt under a massive tree, it’s dry branches throwing shade on you both. You don’t know why, but you can feel your heart hammering in your chest, as your stomach grows hot, knots forming in the pit of it.

Steve feels no pain; he looks at you like you’re the only thing worth looking at in the world. His eyes are big and warm and tender, and completely serene, as if you weren’t standing in the middle of Upside Down and he weren’t about to change your life forever.

“It was you”, he says, his voice soft, and passionate, all at the same time. "The first time I saw you. You were wearing that summer red dress with small black flowers on it and a matching red lipstick. And you had to repeat your question like three times, because I was just… Struck. I could barely breathe. I-” “Steve”, your entire body shakes as panic engulfs you. You can’t breathe. You can’t, you just. Can’t. Take. A damn. Breath.

"I guess what I’m trying to say in a stupid, roundabout way is… I want- I want to do everything with you. I want to marry you, and have kids with you and grow old with you… And I want- I want to die before you do, so I never ever have to live without you, because I…”

“Steve, don’t!” you practically shriek, cutting him mid-sentence, with your chest feeling like it’s collapsing on itself. Your breathing is frantic as you cover your mouth, feeling the hurt that flashes on Steve’s face, like a shot of fireworks in the dark. A beautiful disaster - of your doing.

“I can’t do this right now,” this is the smallest your voice has ever been, as you plead him with your eyes to just stop, but also to forgive you for your tunnel vision.

There’s no way you would be able to stay focused on the mission if Steve actually says those words. Those three little words that are going to change your life forever, make you switch your priorities and always look over your shoulder to make sure he’s there and safe.

As if you weren’t doing it already, a small, nagging voice, sounding a lot like Robin, actually, rings in your head.

You see Steve open his mouth with his brows furrowed, an aftertaste of hurtful expression still creasing his forehead, when Robin suddenly jumps in front of you.

“Hey guys - awesome news!” She’s breathing heavily, but there’s something like a smile stretching her lips. “Looks like we weren’t going the wrong way after all!” Robin notices that something is off as Steve grinds his teeth on an exhale, looking away from both of you. Her eyes dart to your face, but you’re just standing there, not uttering a word, your expression is that of a lost puppy. “Are you guys coming?” Nancy pops up her head from behind Robin’s back, and a realisation that something has just gone down dawns on her face almost immediately.

“Yeah, okay”, Steve finally says, his pace quicker as he thrusts his body forward. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

“Geez”, Robin’s eyes grow wider at his reaction, but she turns on her heels and follows him, running. Nancy gives you a sympathetic look, which you pretend you do not notice as you stare ahead, moving your feet in the direction of Vecna’s hide-out.

Two hours from now you’d be wishing you let Steve finish his phrase. Two hours from now, you’d have given your life just to hear him say those three words, so that nothing else could change your life the way they could.

It all happens too fast. Too fast for you to keep track. Between the vines choking you, Steve smashing their tentacles pinning you to the wall with his bat again and again and again, him getting choked too, and your bruised and weary bodies hitting the floor, you realise you do, actually, get scared. All of your stubbornness and courage disappear the minute you clock Steve pressed against the wall, the Upside Down squeezing the life out of him by pressing hard, harder still on his throat. If you had any air in your lungs at that moment, you would scream, scream bloody murder, but even that, you cannot do. All you’re permitted is watch, watch the love of your life being choked to death.

When the four of you are lying on the ground, and then scrambling to your feet, you don’t have it in you to ask yourself why the Upside Down gives you a free pass and lets you walk away. You are more than ready to finish the job. You’re tired, low key panicking and absolutely pissed, pissed out of your mind.

Nobody fucking touches the people you love and gets away with it.

“I don’t believe in higher power - or divine intervention” Robin croaks, barely breathing. “But that was a miracle”.

“Then we’d better not fucking waste it”, you hiss, bending forward and snatching a blade where it’s been attached at Steve’s hip. He eyes you questioningly, but you don’t give him any kind of explanation as you start up the stairs, praying to God that you’re not too late.

That Max, and your brother, and Eddie, and the Sinclair's - are all okay.

“Phase four,” Steve says from behind you, always close, always covering your back. “Flambé”.

As you reach the attic and step onto the rotting wood, your entire body shudders at the sight. Vecna, putrid grey, slimy and smelling like decay, hangs above the floor, pumping energy through long, bony tentacles attached onto his back. He looks like a deadly heart of the Upside Down, and the scene is as terrifying as it is disgusting. But you are a woman on a mission. You have no time to be scared. Neither does Steve.

As you spot a flick of light to your left, as if in slow motion, you turn your head to watch Steve send a burning Molotov cocktail flying square into Vecna’s chest. The light reflects in the pupils of his eyes, the bottle spins once, twice, three times in the air-

The moment it hits Vecna’s body, the four of you are thrown back in a wave of shock, sparks flying in all directions and burning at your skin. Vecna’s body is suddenly alight, every single part of him on fire; the flames eat away at his flesh like at the pages of an old, dried out journal. He throws his head back, still in trance, and screams in pain, his cry piercing your brain.

His tentacles fall apart and push back, disconnecting from his body; you swear they screech all on their own, rearing back, leaving Vecna to fend for himself as his body hits the ground with a spectacular thump. He falls face forward, bare meters away from where the four of you stand. When he jerks up, lifting his head, he’s growling, surrounded by fire, the stench of his burning flesh enough to make your stomach twist. The sound of his flesh sizzling doesn’t help; it’s sickening to the bone.

On fire and panting, Vecna manages to stand and take a step towards you. Robin suddenly spurs into action, lightening up another Molotov; you swear you never saw the determination like that on her face before. She’s focused, she’s riled up, she’s fantastic as she throws another bottle full of kerosene right at him, forcing him back five steps. The hot wave hits your face again, harder this time. You blink twice, perfectly aware of your eyelashes having taken a heat punch; and the next thing you hear is shots.

There’s assertiveness in Nancy’s gait that tell Vecna one thing and one thing only. He’s dying tonight, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it. Fire dances in Nancy’s eyes as she fires one shot, two shots, three shots - forcing Vecna to retreat, further and further-

But the fucker is still standing there, in the middle of a raging fire.

And then he’s suddenly moving towards the four of you again.

Nancy’s breath is all you can hear as she whips her head to meet your eyes; there’s panic in her stare, and you realize that it’s going to take more than bottles filled with kerosene and 3 inch bullets to take out the fucker.

You turn your head to face Steve; you can’t help it, you have to see those chocolate eyes one last time. Your gazes lock, and it only takes him a moment to realize what you’re about to do.

As you step forward, Robin grabs him by his shoulder, pulling him back. You’re pretty sure he’s screaming, but you can’t think about that right now.

You are a woman on a mission.

Vecna’s screaming too as you run towards him; he’s barely moving, but he somehow meets you halfway. With a howl that rips into your throat, you swing the blade you took from Steve earlier and plunge it right through Vecna’s heart.

Two things you realize almost simultaneously as your chin touches his burning sizzling shoulder.

Your blade exited through Vecna’s back.

The fucker’s claws are dug into your chest, up to his fingertips, and the heavy-smelling blood - your blood - is cascading down your stomach and onto the floor.

You let go of the blade and come face to face with Vecna’s shocked expression, as he eyes you slowly, before dropping his gaze to his chest.

You can’t move - your body feels like it has been filled to the brim with lead. A cough escapes your lips, and you feel blood coming out of your mouth with a shuddered breath, narrow red flow speeding down your chin and dripping - drip drip drip - on your shoes.

“Steve”, you exhale before you collapse onto the ground; only the hit never comes.

“Oh my God, oh my God!” You can hear Steve’s voice, cracking and sounding a lot like he’s getting cut in two, but it’s really far away. Your body feels like it’s wrapped in cotton now, your skin hot in some places, and very cold in others.

Steve is holding you in his lap and you realize he caught you, slipping under you on the ground.

“Oh my God,” he rocks you back and fourth, tears leaving clear trails on his soot covered face. “Please, don’t- Don’t close your eyes, sweetheart, stay with me, stay with me!”

“Steve”, your voice is no more than a breath, as you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. “Steve, I…” an entire mouthful of blood escapes your lips and your eyes roll back.

“No!!” Steve screams and screams and screams like a wounded animal. “No, please!!” He yells into the roof, into the sky, to whatever God who’d listen. “Please,” he sobs, burying his face in your hair.

You don’t feel your body anymore. And the rest is a blur as you slip into impenetrable, silent darkness.

“Love?! Shit, love, are you okay?!”

Your entire body feels like it’s been put through a meat grinder, but the worst of it is the furious throbbing in your head. Your brain feels as if it’s on fire, and you can’t open your eyes, the pain so strong, it forces them shut.

You feel like you’re going to faint any second now, but then another voice rings above all the commotion and worried chatter, surrounding you.

It’s Steve’s voice.

“What the hell happened?!” Steve sounds distressed, and you moan in attempt to let him know that you’re somewhat okay; at the very least, you’re alive.

“Jesus Christ!” the first voice with a funny accent you only spotted now is back. “Come on, help me get her up. Fucking hell, scared the shit out of me”.

“You and me both”, you hear Steve mutter under his breath, and you’re pretty sure he didn’t mean to be heard by anyone.

Then you feel somebody tugging at your limbs, holding you up no doubt… Your head drops back and it eases the pain in your brain just enough to let you open your eyes. What you see next makes you almost want to die for real this time around, right there, on the spot.

A scream - hoarse and blunt, an attempt at a scream really - resurfaces from your chest as you stare into Vecna’s ugly mug, nose missing, skin slimy and the same putrid grey, and oh your god, he’s got his hands on you. There is no way you’re surviving this.

Some kind of a survival instinct kicks in, and you push your palms into his chest with whatever strength you have left - and - by some miracle, as Robin would say - Vecna lets go, his face twisting in surprise.

“Let go of me!” you rasp, pushing further back from him, creating distance. Only your legs don’t hold you up like they’re supposed to, and your pivoting back to the floor-

When somebody catches you. Strong hands wrap around your waist, and there’s something so familiar and comforting about them, you almost break out in tears of relief.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay”, Steve whispers in your ear… and surely enough, the vannes open up and tears stream down your face as you turn around and smash your body into his, burying your face in the crook of his neck, your shoulders convulsing with sobs.

“I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to scare you”, Vecna says behind your back, and his voice is all sorrow, sadness and palpable guilt.

Wait a fucking minute…

“It’s alright, Jamie, it wasn’t your fault”, a voice sounding a lot like Robin chimes in, “She just.. collapsed”, she shudders at the memory, and her voice waivers. “Joe, we should take her to the hospital, call an ambulance or something. She might have a concussion… Jesus, she’s shaking, I think- I think she’s having a panic attack.”

“Just breathe with me, love”, you feel Steve caress your back in soft, gentle motions. “In and out. In and out.” You feel his chest expand against yours, and peacefulness settles in the pit of your stomach as you actually manage to breathe. “You’re okay, everything’s okay”, you feel him cup your face, but your eyes are closed, scared of what else you might be able to find if you open them.

“Look at me, love. Just look at me”, Steve coos, and you can’t help but oblige.

It’s him. It’s really him. The eyes, the nose with a slight bump, the freckles, partly hidden behind a generous layer of soot.

Relief crashes into you, a sentiment so overwhelming, your knees buckle - but Steve is there to catch at your waist, again, and to quickly scoop you into his arms, bridal style. He doesn’t smell like fire or dirt or Upside Down though. Steve smells like some spice, and musc and sugar?…

“Shit, I am so, so sorry, love,” your vision is blurry as you spot Vecna’s hand appear from behind Steve’s dirty, yet still magnificent hair. You follow the waving hand all the way up to his face, your head filled with cotton, your mind high.

It’s when your eyes catch the head of a blond, ruffled, handsome man attached to Vecna’s body, that your brain finally shuts down, and you fall back into an embrace of the dark and silent oblivion.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington imagine #Steve Harrington x female reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington au

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unhealthyfanobsession · 2 years

Note

Don’t know if your still taking prompts queen but hear me out-

It’s acowar, Nestas just got her first period (as a fae) and it’s meant to be really different to a human cycle right? But what if aswell as it being super painful it also makes females WANT to be around there mate, touch them (even if it’s just touching their hand) be possessive of them but this is nesta who’s obvs very in denial about her crushing on Cassian so she really doesn’t understand this sudden need to be around him but also keeps finding little excuses to try and touch him then in turn it kind of awakens cassians instincts to protect aswell because she’s initiated it- the IC start noticing too (probs mor mostly because she’s always in their business) maybe even try’s to separate them which Cassian and nesta don’t react well too

I took a bit of liberty here but same premise! This one turned me SOFT ya’ll

Nesta assumed she would bleed at some point in this war. She did not assume it would be before anyone even set foot on a damn battlefield. Immortality and magic and superior speed and grace and blah blah blah but Fae women still had to bleed and scream and turn enemy to their own bodies just to produce life? Bad deal if you asked her.

“You should be in bed,” Feyre sighed.

“I’ve been in bed for 2 days,” Nesta glared at her sister from where she stood at the entrance to their strategy tent.

“And you should be for another 3 at least,” Mor piped up.

Nesta only continued glaring, “I can’t lay there anymore.” That seemed to shut people up for at least long enough for her to get into the tent properly. Every eye watched as she drifted across the tent, placing herself between Feyre and Cassian.

It wasn’t a conscious choice. Her body just … moved that way. “Please continue,” she waved a hand, resisting the urge to place it on her stomach.

Feyre spoke and Nesta slowly drifted backwards, moving without thought until she brushed against Cassian’s shoulder.

“Oh, sorry,” she muttered. When did she move so far back?

“Get as close as you want, sweetheart.”

Nesta turned around to glare at him but the twisting motion shot a spasm through her lower back. Without thought, she gripped Cassian’s forearm, holding to him like a lifeline as the pain split her spine in two.

“Breathe,” Cassian said quietly.

Nesta did, nodding her head and taking a hard breath in, letting it out slowly, and never once swearing at the male in front of her or loosening her grip.

When the pain subsided back into a dull ache Nesta straightened, but left her hand resting on Cassian’s arm … in case she needed the support again.

Rhysand made a shocked sounding noise low in his throat and snapped his gaze up to his brother.

Nesta wanted to beat him over the head with the nearest rock. Seriously? 500 years old and he couldn’t deal with a fucking period. Child.

Cassian seemed to sense her impending violence because he laid a hand on her shoulder and pressed softly down.

Oh.

Oh that … that felt good. The heat in his palm. Maybe that was what she needed. Heat and pressure.

“Do you want to lay down, Nes?” His voice was a silken whisper and she hated him for it. Hated him for treating her like she was a fragile little doll.

“Will a nap make my insides turn themselves back into their proper place?” Cassian faltered, “No? Then I think I’ll stay.”

“Nesta this is not something you should suffer through,” Feyre said quietly. “When I had my first cycle-”

“I’ll manage!” Nesta snapped, even as her knees buckled under the pressure of a new cramp. For the love of - someone was stabbing her. They were stabbing her and then slowly pulling the knife down inch by inch.

Cassian’s arms wrapped around her waist quickly, supporting her so she didn’t fall. Nesta could tell he was one bad shake away from slipping an arm under her knees and carrying her back to bed.

And that would be fucking mortifying.

“I’m,” she choked through another cramp, “fine.”

“Yeah,” Mor of all fucking people piped in, “you look fine.”

Cassian’s hands settled a little farther down on her waist and Nesta would never admit it in her right mind, but she pressed into him. The heat and the pressure, it helped. It was like … like he was the only thing holding her insides together beneath her skin.

“Let Cassian take you to bed,” Mor sighed, disgust flickering across her face before resignation.

“You know I’d never say no to that,” he grinned. Nesta pulled her arm up to smack him but the movement was so pathetic he didn’t even bother dodging. Just grabbed her palm and lifted it to his shoulder for more support.

“Feyre can take me,” Nesta panted. Giving up on pretending she could walk on her own.

Feyre stepped forward quickly but Mor’s hand darted out to grab her. “No,” she shook her head. “Cassian. Take her back to her tent.”

“What the fuck is your-”

“I am trying to help you,” Mor spat. “Just listen for once in your life!”

Nesta had never heard Morrigan outright snap like that. Usually she cried or pouted or … Nesta had never seen her yell.

She respected it, truthfully. It was the first honest thing she’d seen Mor do.

“Ok,” she said quietly and so uncharacteristically that the entire room seemed to hold a breath in. “Ok,” she repeated, too tired to fight. “Don’t move your hand,” she whispered, low enough that only Cassian could hear. “Please. It’s … just don’t move it.”

Cassian’s eyes darted to where his palm rested over her lower abdomen and nodded. “I won’t,” he whispered, using his free hand and her grip on his shoulder to lift her easily while maintaining the pressure on her aching stomach.

“I’m pathetic,” Nesta grumbled as her head lulled onto his shoulder. The movement so natural she was certain something had taken over her body. Some strangely buried urge that sought strength at her weakest. That knew he would protect her when she couldn’t.

She blamed that feeling when she curled farther into him. Covered his hand with her own and pressed it into her aching lower belly even as she half fell asleep in his arms.

“It’s ok, Nes.” He whispered against her hair, tucking her head beneath his chin. “You’re safe. It’s ok. I’ve got you.”

“Don’t leave,” she whispered, though she would deny it in the morning.

“I won’t,” Cassian promised as he laid her on her side and slipped onto the tiny cot behind her. Always keeping one hand pressed to her stomach. With the other, he carefully stroked sweat-slick hair back from her eyes. “I won’t ever leave if you want me to stay, Nes.” She wasn’t sure if the words were real or if she slipped into unconsciousness and dreamt them. “I will be here. You just have to ask,” he whispered, or maybe he didn’t. “You just have to want me here and I would watch the world crumble into dust before I left your side.”

#nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #nesta and cassian #a court of silver flames #acowar #feyre archeron

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i-am-beckyu · 1 year

Note

Crimeboys it is.

And would you know it, it be a fluffy Crimeboys prompt with an instinct driven Giant Wilbur and a human Gremlin Tommy.

The prompt starts with Wilbur not letting Tommy go as he woke up with instinct begging for him to take Tommy everywhere he goes.

Tommy tries to bite Wilbur's fingers so he can put him down but Wilbur ain't buggin anytime soon.

Anywhere Wilbur goes, Tommy is right there since Wilbur isn't letting him go.

Like you can have Wilbur be at work and he still brings Tommy with him as an example.

Just make it as fluffy as you can, you can add anything you want.

If you're up to make this prompt then pog, that is if you want to do it.

Also, if you wanna send me a random g/t prompt that u have, go for it.

Quack

This has been in my inbox since I joined Tumblr.

Orchid gorgeous!!!!!!!!! I've rewritten this twice!!!! It took me awhile as I got stuck at one point BUT! I had a new idea today so while its short, I'm very happy with it! I hope I did the prompt justice and you like it!!!

Mine to hold close

cw: mcyt g/t , soft, fluffy, tiny tiny death mention. Words: 607 [One shot]

Disclaimer! This story is based on the characters of the Dream SMP and not the real life content creators. Anything that occurs in this story is purely fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you.

“Can you put me down you prick?! I’m not gonna freeze I swear!!!” Tommy said with huff as Wilbur scooped him up.

“After the last time it snowed? I don’t think so.” Wilbur responded as he tucked the little human close to his chest.

“But Wiiiiiiilllll!! I’m not even outside this time!” The giant always tended to get extra clingy around this time of year. His instincts in high gear and on Tommy the second he was awake, worried that Tommy wasn’t warm enough. Tommy didn’t blame him though. Not when he literally met Wilbur in the midst of a snow storm. He hadn’t meant to lose the trail and get stranded in Giant territory, but stuff like that always seemed to follow the Great Tommy Danger Kraken Innit! He’s just lucky that the giant had found him in the snow before he became a frozen popsicle. And even luckier that this Giant didn’t eat humans. So yes, Tommy understood that Wilbur was going to be a little extra cautious about him almost dying of Hypothermia again. But he didn’t have to be so damn cuddly and touchy all the f***** time!!

“Wilbur I’m fine! I’m not gonna get cold! The fires going and keeping everything nice and toasty warm, so stop being a d*** and put me down!!” Tommy said as he squirmed in Wilbur’s hold.

“Tommy. You are literally the most chaotic little gremlin I’ve ever seen. If I put you down, I guarantee you’ll be screaming for help in less than five minutes trying not to freeze your a** off!!” In retaliation, Tommy started biting and scratching at Wilbur’s hand. It didn’t hurt of course, but Wilbur found it cute watching the attempt at escape. He loved Tommy like a brother and ever since he found him had sworn to protect him no matter what, his instincts often being a little overbearing at keeping the chaotic child safe. And if that meant holding onto him for hours at a time, then he’d happily oblige. So what if he had to do his work with one less hand? He’d take holding Tommy any day. That and his instincts kept screaming at him to keep the human close.

After a few minutes Tommy eventually resigned himself to his fate and just chilled in Wilbur’s hand. Though he’d never admit it, he secretly loved it when Wilbur would hold him. He felt safe knowing nothing could hurt him when he was with the giant. He didn’t have to worry about anything and could just be content with his pseudo brother. Staying with the giant being the best decision of his life after their first initial meeting.

Tommy stayed in Wilbur’s hand all day. They chatted while Wilbur did his chores, Wilbur singing songs to Tommy, Tommy sharing wacky insane ideas with Wilbur, all the while the giant's instincts to keep the human close not faltering once. As day turned to dusk and dusk turned to night, Tommy eventually curled up in Wilbur’s hand. Snuggling in as he fell asleep, hugging one of Wil’s fingers close. Wilbur had to resist the urge to coo at the small sleeping human in his hand. Tommy was so small, so fragile but you’d never guess he had such a boisterous personality and was as lively as what he is. Slowly and carefully, Wilbur made his way to bed, getting in and tucking the human close to his heart. He sighed contently knowing nothing could hurt his brother, his instincts finally satisfied.

“Good night Tommy.” Wilbur whispered quietly as he drifted off to sleep. The brothers comfortable in each other’s warm embrace.\

WOOOOOOOOOOOOO I MADE ANOTHER FIC!!!!! THAT'S 2/3 POSTED!!!!!

I swear I'm still writing the other fic! I swear! I swear! I swear!!! It's gonna be worth the time its taking! PROMISE

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azrielgreen · 7 months

Note

This is long. Forgive me.

Also, I have posted this on AO3 as well, cause sharing the love!

Right, I think the only way to do this is thus...

Jason... I hated Jason in the show. He was vile, and he scared me more than Vecna did. He showed the true depth of human fear and hatred, and he was terrifying. In this, I love that you gave him a second chance to show who he truly could be given the right environment. By the time Steve didn’t once let go of his hand, I was in love. He was so beautiful in this, well crafted and thought out. His journey wasn’t a slow thing. It took time, trust, and love. Thank you for giving him and us the chance to know him.

The boys, not including Will...the three of them are so sweet in this, just as they should be. I loved how you had Dustin and Lucas play if each other, how they worked together on their theories, how they gave each other the confidence to say what they thought and back it up with science. With Mike I’m so glad he got to be the soft caring Mike we all know he can be. He was so beautiful in learning to show his emotions and feel no shame, to voice his concerns for those he loves knowing he would be listened to. You gave them all a voice in this, keeping them true to themselves, making them feel alive rather than just being there.

Will...damn I love that boy, his instinctive caring nature, his shyness in his own self. We all know how powerful he is, how amazing, bright, and beautiful he will always be. I love the relationship he has with Eddie and Steve, how he slowly opens up to them, allows them in, and how they let him take the lead. I love the question about the world with the monster and the smile he only gives in response to Steve saying no and asking if the monster was scary. That was Little Bit wasn’t it?

Max and El... their friendship was pure light, pure life. I loved how they talked with Steve, letting him learn with them. Max is so special, her to the point nature, allowing brutally honest conversation that help bring to light facts that help them all at times. She’s like a little flame that shows people the truth of things, never shying away what’s before her just showing the truth of it all. El is pure joy. Despite everything, she just brings light and laughter into her world, sharing it with those around her. When she tells Hopper that his kids are just like him and he says that they are all little assholes and she deadpan responds that no, they are all superhero’s, I cried! Again, you brought them to life, made them real, and had them be the beautiful lights they are.

Hopper...oh my god, that man, that beautiful gruff, hard-headed man. I cried when you brought him back when he walked out of that bathroom. He is just brilliant in this, the pinnacle of being a good person, of putting family and loved ones first. Sure he does it with gruff words, and an angry frown and a few swear words scattered throughout, but he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t put some sort of affronted look on while happily doing it. I love that you made Steve his, gave him a son, gave him another child to love and care for. But also to give Steve an adult he could love and trust because he needed that, he needed that so bad after everything Sylvia and Daniel put him through.

The rest of the adults... I have to say I wish all adults were so understanding and accepting. Just taking things as they were thrown at them and simply saying “as long as you are happy and safe”. That is how it should be, how people should love, with knowing its not their right to choose how others live, but it is their choice on how they react.

Chrissy... this beautiful bright light of a human. We saw it in the show, that light softness that was still there despite everything she was going through and you ran with it. She is so lovely in this, just a tiny little fluff ball of joy and light. The dynamic she adds to the four of them is so spot on, the way she just slips in like she was always meant to be there, to be part of their pack. I love her relationship with Steve, how she instinctively became a fellow Omega, loving on him in a way the others didn’t. But more so I loved her and Eddie, again, we see a little snippet of what could be on the show and again you ran with it. Their cute nicknames, the way they played and leaned on each other was just so lovely and made me smile so much.

Robin... God love her. Her every word, action, and thought was just so her. Her relationship with Steve is a thing of pure love, pure need. They are definitely soul mates, totally made for each other in a way not many people get to have. The scene in the bathroom, when Steve wakes covered in blood, is done so well. I’m sure when that door opened, she wanted to scream, make a fuss, but she had promised, and she kept that promise, only looking at him. She is so amazing, she reminds me of my best friend so much.

Robin and Chrissy.... arghhh so perfect! Their dynamic is spot on, I wish we got to see a little more of their relationship, more spilt coffee, please!

Doors... love, love, love this idea. Being able to travel through worlds, seeing imagined lives, seeing the what if’s. The construction of this idea must have taken some time to make it plausible and real. I liked that Steve had a guide, that little Stevie got to be with him, show what to do, how it worked, that he got Charlie, he was sweet and cute. The scene with Sammy was brilliant, and heart wrenching, to be able to see her grown up and alive was such a gift, for us readers and Steve. Then...then, you threw in Eddie, not just any Eddie, our Eddie, the one from the show, I cried, I was happy he was there, helping Steve understand that he deserved love, just as he did in the show, just as he always has in every story written about the two of them. What I love most about this concept is that not only does it link each and everyone of your stories together it also links every single story written about them because this concept is unending and infinite ♾️.

Eddie... my love, my beloved, God, I love this boy. Every incarnation of him is just amazing, especially when he loves the way he does. This Eddie, Alpha, is so raw. The struggle he has with becoming who he is, is so real and heart-breaking. He truly believes he is unlovable, a monster. The time when they broke up was horrible, I know we saw it through Steve but you still felt how horrible it was for Eddie too, especially having that need to care for Steve and not being able to and having to reconcile those feelings with his Alpha self as well as his human side. He tried so hard not to push Steve, to let him do what he needed even as it went against ever instinct in him. I love how you don’t romanticise what they have. You make it very hard, very real, make it imperfect, and above all you make it human.

Steve... my sweet sweet boy. You gave him magic! You gave him powers to be what ever he needed to be, let him become what he had to be. Beautiful inhuman monster, made all the more human because when humans love to their full ability they are magic. Steve is love personified, he breaks, becomes fragile and brittle when he can not love, doesn’t understand why some people just can’t accept what he so willingly offers, and it destroys him. He becomes this new thing, a new word, Omega, because he just loves so deeply, so wholeheartedly and being human isn’t enough to give the love he has inside of him. Him loving Eddie was always going to be a lot for Eddie to bare, for someone who thought themselves unlovable suddenly having the love of Steve was never going to go down well. I know why Steve felt so hurt and crushed by what Eddie said, being told his love was too much, would have of course broken him. Their time apart again, horrible, but it was nothing to when Eddie died. God that stole my breath, it broke me, had me crying, sobbing because I could feel what Steve was feeling. It took me a while to push through that part, to get to the other side of it because you made the pain so real.

I think, if I could, I would spend a year going through this story, breaking it down, analysing it, showing the world just what you have created, and that it is a work of genius. Nearly 400k words of pure brilliance is something you need to be proud of. It is an accomplishment not many authors have made. I looked up how many published books have that many words, and there are not many above that word count, but you are up there with the likes of Stephan King and George R.R Martin.

Az, thank you for letting me bombard you with silly little Asks as I have read Touched, it has been amazing to touch base with you, to tell you my little thoughts and feeling as I have read. I could never give you enough praise for what you have accomplished, what you have shared.

So, thank you, just thank you.

Natasha x

OH MY GOD THIS *BEAUTIFUL* GENEROUS KINDNESS JUST MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME, THANK YOU MY DARLING SO SO MUCH 😭😭😭😭😭😭

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mimisempai · 1 year

Text

Meet me where the sky touches the sea 1/3

Creature : Merpeople

Summary:

Hob, a writer jaded by life, tries to find inspiration in his seaside cottage. One evening while walking on the beach, he feels inexplicably drawn to the darkness of the ocean. He decides to follow his instincts and walks into the water. And, as he lets out his last breath of air, he hears a voice in his head, "Humans, I swear you're really irritating sometimes... open your eyes, you idiot!"

Add tags : Near death experiences - Emotional hurt/Comfort

On Ao3

Rating T - 2425

"Once upon a time..."

Hob loved it when his mom started her stories like that, because it meant that there was going to be a magical creature, a fairy, a prince or princess. He snuggled into his soft pillow, warm under his comforter, and listened to his mother's soft voice tell him the story.

"Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the most beautiful cornflower, and as clear as crystal, where it is so deep that nothing could fathom it, lives the Sea King and his subjects. One should not imagine that at the bottom of the sea there is only bare yellow sand. No, in fact, the most peculiar flowers and plants grow there, colorful and sparkling, undulating with the movements of the water. Fish, large and small, glide between the branches, as birds fly between the trees here on earth. In the deepest place of all is the castle of the Sea King. The Sea King had a daughter. She was beautiful, she had long black hair like ebony and..."

"Mom," Hob interrupted her, "can it be a boy this time?"

His mother kissed him on the forehead, a loving smile on her lips, "Sure honey, let's go with a boy this time."

She continued her story, "The sea king had a son. He had long hair as black as ebony, eyes as golden that twinkled like the stars in the night sky and there was no more handsome merman in the whole kingdom. But he was lonely and sad because he had no one to play with. All his brothers and sisters were much older than him and as a prince he was not allowed to play with other children. He often climbed to the surface of the ocean and looked at the horizon, dreaming that one day the sea would bring him a playmate."

Little Hob listened to his mother tell him the story of the mermaid who met a human prince, fell in love with him, and gave his beautiful voice to the witch to get legs. But the story did not end well.

"The man raised his glorious eyes to the sun and felt them, for the first time, fill with tears. On the boat where he had left the prince, there was life and noise; he saw him and his beautiful wife looking for him; they looked sadly at the pearly foam, as if they knew he had thrown himself into the waves."

Hob interrupted his mother, "No mom, I don't want the man to be left alone, without his prince!".

His mother asked him gently, "You want to tell me the ending then? I'm listening, sweetie."

"The prince saw in the distance the glistening hair of his merman whom he thought was lost. He turned to his fiancée and apologized because he didn't love her and would rather die drowning in his beloved's arms than live unhappily without him. In front of everyone, the prince dived into the sea and swam to his beloved. The man saw his prince swimming towards him, went to meet him and took him in his arms. They professed their undying love and kissed as they sank into the water. Still embracing, they didn't notice that the prince's legs were turning into a mermaid's tail. Love had turned the prince into a mermaid and they lived happily ever after and had many mermaid children.

Little Hob looked proudly at his mother with his arms crossed. She laughed softly and as she tucked him in, she said, "Your ending is much better than the one I know."

Hob nodded as he fell asleep, "Yes, I am the prince and one day I will find my merman."

*********

"I will find my mermaid... what nonsense, just a child's dream." muttered Hob jadedly as he looked out the window of his small seaside cottage, "... I am not a prince, there is no such thing as the sea kingdom, let alone a merman who would give up his voice for me. Who would give up anything for me?"

He ran his hand over his face and contemplated the line separating the sky from the sea on the horizon for a long moment before returning to his desk to resume writing his book. It was amazing that it was only in his books that he managed to make the characters happy when his life was nothing but loneliness and disappointment. And the problem was that today even his inspiration was running away from him.

After ten minutes, seeing that inspiration really wasn't going to come, he put down his glasses, got up, put on an old vest, some old sneakers and went outside. There was nothing like the ocean air and the sound of the waves to clear one's head.

He walked for a long time before sitting down on the sand, arms around his knees, eyes fixed ahead of him. Now that night had almost fallen, that the sun had disappeared into the sea, he could no longer see the border between the sky and the ocean and a feeling of infinity passed through him. For a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like to walk towards that infinity without stopping. Would anyone miss him? Would his books become posthumously famous? Who would live in his house after him?

Realizing that all the answers to his questions did not matter to him, he stood up and as if hypnotized, as if called by a voice from the sea, he walked straight ahead, indifferent to the height of the water that rose as he went along

After a while, his feet no longer touched the sandy ground and he floated with the movement of the water, indifferent to where the ocean carried him. He knew he could return at any time, but he didn't want to. He wanted to stay in that moment between sky and sea, floating and thinking of nothing.

Suddenly he felt something brush against his leg and instinct made him move away. But what appeared to be a slimy seaweed wrapped itself around his foot and seemed to pull him down. Survival instinct was strongest and Hob struggled, but with nothing to hold on to, he felt inevitably swept away and before he was dragged completely underwater, he had just enough time to swallow a last gulp of air.

Knowing that struggling would cause him to consume more oxygen, he did not resist. Until the inevitable moment when he had to breathe, the pressure on his lungs being unbearable.

The last thing he remembered as his eyes closed was a golden flicker as a voice that wasn't his own screamed at him not to let go.

Then darkness engulfed him, not a frightening darkness but a welcoming one that made him want to let go.

It was all over.

Over?

So why was he thinking?

Do you think when you are dead?

Am I dead?

"Idiot !"

Huh? Who's talking to me?

"You humans! I swear you're really irritating sometimes... open your eyes, you idiot!"

Hob obeyed and slowly opened his eyes.

Letting them gradually get used to the environment, he realized with amazement that he was in a cave that seemed to be... under water, or rather surrounded by water.

He breathed in slowly, cautiously, and then more deeply when he realized that it was indeed air. Then his eyes fell on the owner of the voice and nothing else mattered.

Hob simply thought that if he was dead, this must be heaven. In front of him stood the most gorgeous man or creature he had ever seen.

Black hair fell on his almost naked shoulders and he had black eyes whose golden pupils shone like stars in the middle of the night. His thin, delicate ears, adorned with several golden rings, stretched into small points. Hob's eyes quickly glanced at the torso, which was drawn like that of a Greek god, to see that he had... legs. Hob looked surprised as he expected to see a merman's tail.

He heard a small laugh in his head and looked up to meet the man's eyes. He laughed but no sound came out of his mouth.

Seeing his surprise, the man put a finger to his temple and Hob again heard a voice in his head, "I have legs but also...".

Hob saw the man cross the wall of water and when his legs entered the water as well, they turned into a beautiful merman's tail.

The tail was covered with black scales that had a beautiful golden sheen and ended in orange swirls that reminded him of the golden pupils of the man. Hob found it hard to look away, fascinated by the movement of the tail as it followed the water.

The voice echoed in his head again as the man turned and looked back at Hob.

"My voice is the price I had to pay for the right to cross from one world to another."

He stepped forward and held out his hand to Hob, "I am Dream, ex-prince of the seas and dreamy merman. Do I have the right to know the name of the man whose life I just saved?"

Hob grasped the slender, delicate hand and then, shaking it, replied softly, "I am Hob, failed writer and probably daydreaming right now."

Motioning for him to follow, Dream continued to speak into Hob's head, snickering again, "I assure you it's not a dream. But I'm curious, is it because you're a failed writer that you decided to throw yourself in the water?"

Hob swallowed, not understanding the compulsion that made him want to tell everything to this man he had only just met.

Dream had opened a small door encased in the rocks at the back of the cave, and Hob was surprised to find himself in a room that was almost as big as his seaside home. He looked around with curiosity and wonder. In one corner, a lamp cast a warm glow that reflected off all the cushions that were scattered all over the shimmering carpeted floor, in another corner was a small armchair surrounded by bookcases filled with books, which immediately made Hob yearn to curl up and read.

He didn't have time to look any further because Dream led him to the corner with the cushions and made him sit down before saying softly in Hob’s head, "I'll get us some tea, maybe that will make the discussion easier."

Hob settled back against the soft cushions and followed Dream's slender figure with his eyes as he headed for a door that led to what appeared to be a kitchen. His host emerged a few minutes later with two steaming mugs. He handed one to Hob before sitting down elegantly across from him.

He said nothing and simply waited.

Hob blew on his hot tea before taking several sips to get his thoughts in order. With his eyes fixed on the ground, he didn't see Dream's hand come to him and rested gently on his forearm to get his attention.

The merman gently told him, "Take your time."

Hob smiled slightly. "Excuse me, but I'm going to start with a question that is probably absurd, but... How come I'm dry?"

A mysterious smile appeared on Dream's face as he twirled his hand. Out of it came a small wisp of sand as his voice echoed in Hob's head again, "Maybe because I can do a little magic."

The answer didn't even surprise Hob, who still felt like he was living in a daydream. He still wasn't completely convinced he was awake, for that matter.

A new laugh echoed in his head followed by a whisper, "You'll soon realize you're awake." Then Dream's voice resumed more seriously, "So Hob, failed writer, they say when you save a life you're responsible for it, so tell me, what made you do it."

Hob swallowed and took a deep breath before beginning his story in a husky voice. He told Dream everything, his books that were not as successful as he had hoped, his sadness and loneliness, his desire not to be alone anymore but also to find The Person, his childhood dreams. He felt this uncontrollable compulsion to confide in the man in front of him. To tell him everything. To bare his soul.

Dream had gone to refill their cups twice and the day was beginning to filter through the light well in the middle of the room when Hob reached the end of his story, the sad story of his life.

Dream had listened, asked questions when he wanted to know something, held his hand when emotion made it impossible for Hob to speak. He had given him space when he felt he needed it.

Now that he had finished, that he had told everything to a man who was a stranger only a few hours ago, he felt empty and light. So much lighter. Everything was still there though, his unsuccessful books, his loneliness, his sadness, but there was one person who knew everything.

Dream respected his silence before getting up and walking to one of the bookcases to pick up a book and return.

He handed the book to Hob and regained his position across from Hob.

To say that Hob was shocked when he found out what book it was would have been an understatement.

He looked at Dream and stammered, "It's...but...it's my..."

"Yes, it's the first volume of your saga. The first novel you published."

Hob stared at the book cover.

You're the Hero of All My Stories- Vol.1 by Hob Gadling

Dream's voice echoed in his head again, "The first time I read this book, I wondered if the author really believed what he wrote in the introduction."

Hob opened the book and traced the words of said introduction with his fingers.

Dream continued in his head, "I believe in love. I believe it transforms, transports and transcends. I believe it refines goodness, solidifies strength, ripens resolve, eradicates rage, soothes pain and increases empathy. It is the story of such love that I will tell you now."

Hob realized that Dream was saying the words of the introduction by heart, and his heart began to pound faster.

"But... how? I mean you..."

Dream grabbed the book out of his hands, took Hob's hand in his, and Hob heard his voice in his head again, "Maybe it's my turn to tell you my story."

Chap 1 - Chap 2 - Chap 3

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Masterpost here

Dreamling Masterlist here

#the sandman #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #dreamling fic #centennial husbands #centennial boyfriends #morpheus #morpheus x hob #hob x morpheus #dream x hob #hob x dream

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