#had a dream there was a baby bunny in the backyard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lanitaminaj · 6 months ago

Text

once upon a dream

a strange man, or an entity, finds itself plastered on your wall. toji, you begin to learn, finds himself intertwined within your life. inspired by this post.

cw; female reader, sexual themes, cussing, mentions of suicide, mentions of death, paranormal, horror.

he simply stared, unmoving nor unblinking as he observed you.

you gazed back, your doe-eyes large and your babydoll-lips parted as they took in the entity etched on your lavender-purple bedroom wall.

"are you going to hurt me?" you rasped, your voice low as you kept your sleeping parents next door in mind.

he just smirked; the left corner of his lengthy, scarred lips were pulled mockingly upward.

"are you going to kill me in my sleep?" you whispered, your eyelids heavy as a tiny yawn escaped your plush lips.

his chest bounced, as if he was laughing in a tone impossible for your human ears to gather.

"okay," you shrugged, wrapping the pearl-white, cotton-soft blanket up to your shoulders.

he was merely composed of a head and a chest; composed of raven-black, messy tresses. his eyes were almond-shaped, their sunken composure indulged in your form as if you were prey. all you could make out beneath his thick, veiny neck was a set of toughened, herculean shoulders. even covered by the hellish-cloud of ink, you could make out every inch and bulge of inhuman brawn.

"what are you?" you questioned, your body comfortably entangled within the fluffy fabric. you knew he was outworldly, yet you couldn’t discern from where he’d come from. was he your guardian angel? a spiritual protector sent to guard you as you dreamt? or was he demonic, an impish spirit serving as a reminder of the sins living within you?

he, unsurprisingly, refrained from responding. his smirk dropped, yet his nightshade-eyes remained draped on you.

“fine,” you huffed, before you allowed exhaustion to envelop your resting form. Your feather-stuffed pillows molded themselves to accommodate the shape of your head, the baby-powder scent seducing you into succumbing to a peaceful slumber.

wordlessly, you blinked your eyes twice at the strange, ghastly man on your wall, before the world around you became pitch-black.

there was a little bunny that often paraded around in the emerald-green grass of your backyard. some mid-days, when your parents were off at work, you would gather some baby carrots from the refrigerator and feed the little creature. it was a cute thing, you decided, with its long, floppy ears and fur which copied the pattern of cowskin. the only difference was that the darker patterns were a light, caramel-brown rather than a deep, mocha-brown.

the soft baby chewed happily, a soft coo escaping your lips as its rosy-pink nose twitched happily.

the little bunny was an adorable distraction from the source of your recent frustration: the demon in your wall.

you’ve tried for weeks to try and communicate. on your side, you’ve provided a multitude of prompts to ask him.

“where’re you from?” was one. “what’s your name? why’re you in my room?” were others.

of course, there’d been a lack of answers from the demon, causing you to angrily cease your one-sided conversations.

you’d even gone as far as to script a lengthy paper to him, leaving it on the cedar-wood surface of your dresser one night for him to read. when you’d awoken, however, you discovered the letter to be ripped up and discarded messily on your oak-wood floor.

how rude.

your parents had been gone; your father was harvesting bee-honey while your mother attended to her floral shop.

you picked up the little bunny, holding its bustling form close to your warm chest. a light breeze whispered around you, an indignation of the twilight-purple evening sky’s soon arrival.

your bare feet kissed the blades of the clover-green grass, ignoring how the sharp tips provoked slight pain as you stepped. you trekked through the vanilla-white door of the baby-blue painted cottage, the wood underneath you groaning as you inched closer and closer to your lavender-lilac room.

your bedsheets had been in a disarray; all messy with the indent of your body pressed into them. your single window had been cranked open, the smell of ivory and pine-trees surrounded your room. your cotton, white blanket reminded you of the clouds you’d seen that morning. the bubblegum-pink tulip on your dresser was dying.

“there you go,” you softly cooed, gently setting the shaking bunny on your cloudy comforter. it settled in quite nicely, its little nose nuzzling the comforting texture and smell of your bed.

you peered at your wall. he wasn’t there.

a timid grumbling caught your attention.

your eyes widened, your ears focusing on the rumbling occurring again. it didn’t take you long to realize the bunny’s stomach had been thundering, its doll-eyes peering up at you pleadingly.

“hungry?” you questioned it, as if the furry creature could truly understand your human words. it appears that it could, however, its whiskers twitching in response.

“okay,” you nodded, your legs setting for the kitchen. “wait here,” you commanded. “i’ll find you some food.”

there hadn’t been much, honestly. your mother’s produce jars had been empty, the only evidence of there ever being fruits were the royal-blue blueberry and scarlet-red raspberry juices that lined the glasses. you had honey-baked bread, but you weren’t sure if bunnies could eat loaves. a jug of lamb’s milk sat tranquilly in the refrigerator, but you figured it’ll make the tiny creature sick.

suddenly, you remembered the strawberries that your father had been planting. sauntering out the door once more, you set forth to the patch that grew quietly near your home.

like a christmas tree, the bush stood soldierly while the blooming strawberries served as ornaments.

you picked gingerly from it, making sure to pick generously in fear of your father being upset.

somewhat alone, the wind’s embrace and the soft singing of the mockingjays accompanied you as you slipped into a daze.

you thought of your parents, how often tired, yet content, they seemed with their lives. your mother’s serene smile was a sight you adored, while your nose regularly basked in your father’s constant scent of honey. you thought of your little world, how you indulged in simple pleasures such as reading jane austen and producing grains of your own poetry. the other townies often depict these simple pleasures as boring, yet there was some comfort gained in you as you embraced your creative side.

there wasn’t much time left to indulge in your deepest thoughts, of course, as you remembered the little bunny that laid hungry in your bed. swiftly, you gathered the harvested strawberries as you set off for your home, the tranquil little cottage soft in your honeyed-eyes.

you trampled through the door, a whistle on your lips as you chopped up the strawberries in a tiny, heart-shaped ceramic plate. it was a ruby-red shade, messily painted with strawberry and tomato juice from when you were seven-years-old.

“bunny,” you called, your voice sweet and high like a hummingbird’s song. the bunny refrained from trotting to the kitchen, its soft paws against the wooden-floor abstained from entering your ears. you turned towards your bedroom door, the pearl-white hatch suddenly closed and foreboding. you couldn’t remember if you sealed it before you slipped out, yet you disregarded it as an unimportant thought compared to the direness at hand.

“bunny?” you called once more, crouching slowly towards your bedroom with the heart-shaped plate in your left hand. the door ahead of you was coated with hand-painted lavender and pink tulips that scattered beautifully against the colorlessness of the canvas. the sky behind you had turned into a hue of tangerine-orange and violet-purple.

the door creaked as you pushed it open. the plate in your hand thunderously shattered as it dropped in shards against your bedroom floor.

near the lavender wall, where the entity lived, laid your little bunny.

a sob emerged from your throat. your beloved bunny rested in the hands of the entity, the furry creature coated in blood as the wall’s ghost ate from it. when it was done, it simply tossed the slain bunny on the ground, a squelch sound made as it dropped in its scarlet-red bloody pool.

you submerged the urge to vomit, yet couldn’t fight the urge to pass out.

a coral-pink bowl of tomato-soup laid carefully against the palms of your slightly-shaking hands.

you observed the entity, the inhuman-man licking the bunny’s blood that had coated on his fingers.

you hadn’t quite noticed it, but the entity was growing.

he grew arms, the muscles bulging and long. his hands were just as big, with veins coating throughout the flesh. or, form? you wondered if his veins contained blood, or if they were like plant vines. you imagined it was the latter. after the events from earlier, you were convinced that this thing was surely subhuman.

and yet, you couldn’t halt yourself from showing some form of sympathy for it. “i didn’t know you were hungry,” you grumbled, your eyes darting down as you simultaneously spooned your soup. you weren’t very hungry; your appetite had been satiated for at least a week. “i would’ve gotten you something had you just told me.”

he simply stared, his sharp-eyes trained on your smaller form as he sucked. you could feel the little smirk that rested on his bloodied lips. barbaric, you couldn’t help but think. your thoughts translated on your face, a subconscious snarl present on your angry lips.

“you’re evil,” you choked out, placing the soup-bowl on your pearl-white nightstand. “i’m not speaking to you anymore.”

you tucked yourself into bed, your pillowy-sheets brought up to your warm face. you could imagine that the entity was simply staring at you, that nonchalant expression on his face as if he couldn’t care less about eating your precious baby bunny. you tried your best to block out any thoughts of today’s events, your subconscious allowing your mind to dream of pleasant things such as your mother’s cherry-lime pie and your father’s lullabies from your childhood.

within a few minutes, you succumbed to sleep.

by the time you woke up the next morning, you feigned surprise at the entity not being plastered on your wall. good, you thought. yet, there was some wicked pulse in your heart that ached at the usual disappearance of the ghost.

your legs carried you out of bed, your yawning self delighted at the sight of your mother and father eating and chatting blissfully at the kitchen table.

“good morning, honey,” your mother greeted, her lips planting a small kiss on your rosy-pink cheeks. your father squeezed your arm.

“honey,” his resonant voice boomed. “i think my strawberries have bloomed, can you pluck them?”

your back fought the urge to straighten itself rigid, your voice fighting the urge to say “i’ve actually plucked some yesterday”.

you complied, however, like the good daughter you were. “i’ll go get them,” you beamed, grabbing the woven-basket near the front door before you set off for the meadows.

it wasn’t anything peculiar. you merely picked the remaining berries, placed them in your basket, and set off back home. you arrived back to your parents on the porch, their tanned fingers wrapped around mason jars filled with what appeared to be peach-tea.

“honey,” your mother sang your childhood nickname. “set the basket down in the kitchen. we left a glass on the counter for you.”

“thanks, mama,” you thanked, your steps echoing as you entered the tiny kitchen. you sat the basket down, yet something peculiar occurred. a thumping sound emerged, a noise consistent and erratic as it bounced frighteningly on what you determined to be on hardwood-flooring. you listened intently, before you realized the sound was coming from your own bedroom.

your skin suddenly felt very cold.

your crept towards your room, your heart pumping as your hand pushed gently against your colorful door. you swore your heart fought not to stop as the door creaked eerily.

the thumping stopped once you entered your room. you froze, your mind racing with a multitude of thoughts at once. oh god, you cried to yourself. perhaps i’m losing my mind. it wouldn’t be a possibility too far fetched. after all, what sane person sees a ghost in their wall?

but then, there it was. a bunny emerged from under your bed, the thumps it created verified that it was the source of the anxious noises produced. you sighed, but then you realized under sudden inspection that this wasn’t just any bunny. its long, floppy ears; its caramel-brown cowskin patterns.

this was your bunny.

“what,” you breathed to yourself, its pink nose wobbling as it inched closer to you. you couldn’t believe it; your little bunny had been brought back to life?

you bent down to scratch the beloved creature behind its ears, but gasped as it disappeared underneath your touch. within a heartbeat, it was gone once more.

you choked back a sob.

“no,” you huffed, your throat tightening and your heart broken. “no, my bunny.”

a tear slid down your cheek, before something in the corner of your eyes caught your attention. you turned your head, your eyes widening in pure surprise.

there, on your wall, decorated with black-gunk, purple-ink and burgundy-blood, was a simple appellation.

toji.

when you first started seeing choso, you refrained from bringing him home for select reasons.

for one, you didn’t want your parents to flock and coo around him like doves. for two, you didn’t want him to be frightened by the man in your wall.

toji, you discovered, had gotten stronger as the days progressed. the wall carved out indentations of his thighs, the tendons within them muscular and large. similar to his arms, you noted.

you additionally noticed how jealous he’d get, for reasons you didn’t quite know.

during late nights, when your parents were whisked away by either deep sleep or work duties, you found yourself gushing over choso to the shadow man.

“he’s a gentleman,” you blushed, your fingers toying with the loose fabrics on your comforter. “he sometimes doesn’t have much to say, but he’ll bring me little flowers here and there. specifically baby’s breath cause they’re my favorite. i’m surprised he remembered i told him that the one time i did.”

toji kept that common smirk on his ghastly face, yet his features often altered when he heard you speak about choso. for one, his eyes switched. a fire ignited in them, a violet-purple glint in them that never went unnoticed. his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, with his nose flaring ever so slightly.

there was one day you were enthused over choso so bad that it caused toji to completely disappear for three nights, only to smugly reemerge as you pathetically called his name in the dead of night. you’ve received the message, of course. you’ve refrained from raving to toji about your date after those nights.

tonight, however, you’ve gotten the home to yourself. your parents had been flocked away to attend to some dire work obligations, their presence not revered as that meant you were able to bring choso in. you’ve forgotten about one presence, however, too blissed out to remember.

you ransacked your parents’ liquor cabinet, your fingers pulling out a bottle of jack daniel’s tennessee honey whiskey. your father’s favorite.

it was disgusting, of course, your lips pressing bitterly into each other as you took little shots of it. you were never a huge alcohol enthusiast, but you read somewhere that it was an aphrodisiac. from the way a sudden warmth blossomed between your thighs coupled with the way you could feel your tits hardening underneath your white-sundress, you knew the effects were taking place. with choso’s low-eyes and his palm practically caressing your bare calf, you could tell that the alcohol was affecting him as well.

“you’re beautiful,” he uttered above the soft voices of ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong singing ‘the nearness of you’ on the living room’s mahogany-wooden vinyl player.

“thank you,” you breathed before the sudden liquid courage got a hold of you. you got a hold of his hand, guiding it so that it reached the inner warmth of your thighs.

“do you wanna?” you asked sweetly, your cunt dampening as you heard choso rasp out a soft little ‘fuck’.

“we’re all alone, right?” choso asked, to which you gently nodded your response. “no interruptions?”

“no interruptions,” you promised, before letting yourself be whisked away to your bedroom with your date in tow.

he was so muscular; a fact you didn’t know as his body was constantly concealed underneath the robes and baggier fabrics that he donned. his buffed chest rubbed consistently against your softer breasts, causing them to swell underneath his touch. melodic moans and gasps escaped from your lips, your eyes pressed shut from intense ecstasy and pleasure. his cock, god. his cock was veiny and thick; your lips had previously been wrapped around his salmon-pink dick as it began to rise in your throat. currently, it was being punched routinely in-and-out of your tight, soaked cunt. your nails dug into the man’s pale-back, the ruby-red scratches contrasted beautifully against his canvas-like skin.

it was all too much; you didn’t know if you’d be able to withstand how his cock was fucking you deeply and roughly as he breathed heavily in your ear.

“yeah, you like that?” you could hear his heavenly, sexed-out voice question you. the boldness and confidence in his words caused your blissful eyes to open-up slightly, before they immediately bolted-open in shock.

just a few centimeters from your face had been choso’s own, yet something had changed in his eyes.

they glew a violet-purple hue. right there, just below his sweating nose, was his mouth; his lips were pressed into a familiar, hunting smirk.

you could’ve died right there, but you would’ve found it absolutely humiliating for your tombstone to read; death by bomb-ass-dick.

“yeah,” choso’s voice questioned once more, yet your heart thumped at you in both nirvana and in warning. was this truly choso? “you love this dick, don’t you?” he spoke, causing you to subconsciously moan in response. “love how your cunt squeezes on it, huh?”

“yes,” you nonetheless answer, too fucked out to ponder anything less in the moment. “love this dick.”

“love how it makes you go dumb, don’t you?” choso’s voice began to transform into something unfamiliar. the base in his voice lightened, yet changed its tone to that of something more cocksure. a voice you would later be able to put a face to.

“choso,” you whined, an action that erupted voluminous noises to pass out your mouth as choso slammed his cock deeper in your throbbing pussy. a veiny hand snuck to grasp at your blushing tit, before the same hand trailed upward to carefully hold your throat.

“you’re mine,” he hissed, as if something were causing him great pain. “all fucking mine. this cunt belongs to me.”

“all yours, choso,” you swore, your head bobbing up and down the best it could against the grasp of his hand. you could feel the wave of your orgasm beginning to crash, your heightened ah,ah,ah’s the indicator of what was starting to arise.

“gonna cum, aren’t you?” choso solicited, his fingers rubbing against your cunt’s pearl. “cum then, pretty girl.”

and so you did. you cried as your cunt clenched around his cock. choso groaned at the vanilla-reminiscent ring of cream you produced, the man pulling out just as he filled the trojan wrapped around his tip with his own salty-flavored cream. with a huff, he pulled the condom off his cock before he tossed it in the midnight-black tiny trash can behind him, his naked body then collapsing adjacent to yours.

you laid like that for a while, your bare breasts rhythmically rising up-and-down with each deep breath you took. you allowed your left forearm to press against your shut eyelids, allowing yourself a moment to recover from the orgasm that passed you.

“that was good,” you laughed through a string of heaving breaths. “did you like it?”

“yeah,” choso replied, a hint of confusion inked his steady voice. a pregnant pause filled the air, his arm draping across your bare shoulders. “would you find it crazy if i said i didn’t remember any of it?”

“what?” you chuckled, taking his words to be some form of a joke. your laughter halted, however, once you took in his serious lips contorted to that of a flat line. “did you black out?” you then question, your breasts bowing shamelessly as you sat up against your soft pillows.

“i might’ve,” he shrugged, allowing his form to press into your blanket underneath him. he left it as that, causing you to sigh out an ‘oh’ and nod your head dumbly. you wanted to say how he seemed normal, his usual self except for the fact he was a much bolder personality in bed. you blamed that on the arousal, however. wasn’t it normal for one to act more daring during sex?

“i’ve got to get going, anyways,” choso suddenly remarked, his taller figure swiftly bouncing off your bed which left you downhearted. you loved company; those fleeting moments after sex never failed to even be cherished by your heart. “your parents will be home sometime soon, won’t they?”

“yeah,” you smiled, although it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. it was sad. you felt like a pathetic little puppy dog all depressed once its owner had to leave for work. “do you want me to walk you out?”

“sure, honey.”

you then quickly threw on your discarded sundress from off the floor, trailing behind choso as his fully-dressed form strode casually through the living room, his right hand clasping around the front door’s handle.

“are you free next saturday?” you asked him, a blush on your face as he bent down to kiss your warm cheek. “yes,” he replied, flicking your cheek as if wiping an invisible tear from it. “i’ll call you. goodnight.”

and then he was off. “goodnight,” you called after him, closing the door behind him as you did. you didn’t lock it, of course, for your parents’ sake.

trailing sadly back to your room, you screamed at the sight before you.

it was toji, but he’d been out of the wall. there he was, in all his cruel glory, sitting nonchalantly on the edge of your bed. he’d developed his lower limbs; his legs and thighs, of course, just as muscular as the rest of him. yet, there was something about him that contrasted his buff appearance. maybe it was his clenched waist, a waist you slightly envied. maybe it was his fringed hair-style, an unserious look for a demon.

he looked, nonetheless, dare you even say it, normal for an evil creature. in evil creature standards?

and then you felt ridiculous for casting so much attention onto his appearance when there was a much larger issue at stake.

“what are you doing on my bed?”

he didn’t answer, of course, his devilish eyes glancing up-and-down your swaying form. you wondered what he was thinking about, wondering if you could even touch him. you strode towards him, your thoughts governing your impulsive thoughts. your hand stretched to caress his cheek, but right before you did, he vanished.

you gasped, goosebumps growing across your skin as you felt the presence of him running up and down your arms. his aura possessed you entirely, but not literally; in a metaphorical sense, toji’s spirit danced all throughout your shivering form. you could tell he reappeared behind you, the buzzing sensation of his arms interlocked across your waist as he put his ghostly lips just below your earlobe. it must be frustrating, you thought as you allowed him to quietly take you in. it must be frustrating to not be able to communicate, at least not in the vocal way.

he bit at your earlobe a little, causing you to laugh angelically at the playful, ticklish feeling. you could feel his chest against your back bounce happily. at least you knew entities could laugh.

he placed a little kiss at the nape of your neck, his arms unlinking themselves from you. you turned around, interested in seeing what clever expression toji would have on his handsome, evil face. your smile dropped when you discovered he wasn’t there, wasn’t hiding away in any little corner of your room.

“toji?” you called, but to no avail. “toji?” you nonetheless tried again, your legs pacing across your room and into different parts of the cottage room in some attempt to find him. he was gone.

that night, he hadn’t returned to the wall, either. you’ve gotten used to his glowing eyes staring you down as you slept, a strange conformality you so desperately missed. even when your parents returned home, kissing you a goodnight on the top of your forehead, you still found yourself crying to sleep.

the sorrowful cries continued throughout the duration of two-weeks, the fever of your sobs heightening as you would soon discover choso had been found expectedly dead the week afterward.

everything felt the same to you these days.

your bedsheets had gone unwashed for four weeks, the comforter stained with the scarlet-red residue of your menstrual and your pillows damped by your constant tears. you’ve been planning on washing them, of course, had your father not reminded you that the blueberries were ready to be harvested.

“your mother had been planning on making blueberry compote,” he explained, clearing his throat as he reassuringly rubbed your arm as you laid motionless in bed. “blueberry compote over those buttermilk pancakes you like.”

you thanked God you at least had parents who loved you. if it hadn’t been for them, you would’ve hung yourself with your soiled bed sheets. you’ve been having those thoughts at least once a day, now.

puffy-eyed, you zoned out as you carelessly plucked at the blueberries, chucking them in your mother’s woven basket. why couldn’t your father pick his own blueberries? you tried to think positively, this outdoorsy excursion providing some form of distraction from your own thoughts.

there were no bunnies hopping aimlessly around the grassy-patch. there were no songbirds chirping melodically among themselves. there was only you, the woven basket, the fucking blueberries.

then there was a snapping. your head jerked in the direction of what you determined to be an animal stepping on a fallen branch. you hadn’t seen anything; your eyes narrowed before they darted back to watch your own hands work.

another snap. you tilted your head once more, your heartbeat beginning to race. two more snaps commenced, causing your legs to rise up to your full length.

and then, emerging from the bushes and branches of the forest just to the right of you, there he stood.

“choso?” you gasped, the blueberry basket in your grasp collapsed towards where your feet rooted.

there were clear indications that it was him; his exhausted, heavily bruised eyes, his cocoa-brown tresses, the scars that laid across his delicate nose’s bridge. yet, there was something sinisterly new about him. his eyes were narrowed, his gaze pointed hungrily at you as if you were a delicious bambi-doe. his lips curled upward into a simper, as if there was some inside joke between him and only him. his irises, interestingly enough, glowed a soft, orchid-purple hue.

realistically, you should’ve known that it wasn’t truly choso. he wasn’t Jesus, the simple human unable to rise himself up from his perish after months. perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the desperation that constantly lurked through every crevice of your brain. you ran to him, ran to the figure who you presumed to be your beloved choso.

“choso,” you sobbed and heaved pathetically against his chest. you hugged your arms tightly around his waist, so tight that the man could die again. your body mournfully bounced against his, your tears so intense they stained the entire front of his tunic. he merely patted your head with his right hand, his left hand softly held your waist. “you have no idea how bad i missed you,” you hiccuped, your body suddenly heaving over as if you were about to throw up.

his hands, their softened nature, tenderly held your damp face. he peered deep into your eyes, as if he was opening the gateway to your soul.

“choso,” you rasped once more, before he pulled you in to plant an amorous, long kiss on your lips. you hadn’t quite known what ghost lips tasted like; maybe Earth and rot. you internally gagged. you thanked God, however, that ghost kisses tasted exactly like nothing. there’d been no smell nor taste, similarly to those unscented soap bars your mother would make every first of the month.

you kissed for quite a long time; his tongue suddenly found itself slipped deviously inside your mouth. you moaned, his ghostly hands curiously exploring the mounds and curves of your body.

you don’t recall how or when, but you do remember finding your back kissing the bark of an old sycamore tree. his hands roamed throughout your body, his hands cupping the softness of your tits and the plumpness of your ass. you squealed in his mouth, feeling his cock harden against your thighs.

he fucked you right there and then, his cock suddenly in his hands before he slipped it between the warm folds of your cunt.

you moaned, the songbirds above you seem to chirp along to every little sound you made. he ripped the top of your baby-pink dress, your hardened tits peeking out at him as he pinched them. he nipped at the soft of your neck, his bite becoming intense as you began to reach nirvana.

“fuck,” you rasped, your eyes shut in ecstacy as your mouth formed an erotic ‘o’ shape. “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

you peeked an eye out, your movements and noises suddenly stilling as you noticed toji’s face smirking back at you.

you then orgasmed, your screams of both pleasure and horror scattered the crows that were once perched on the tree branches above you. you fell to your knees, your screams growing in fervor as tears began to stream down your trembling face.

you remained in your state of shock, even long after your father had ran to you and carried you home. the basket of blueberries had been left on the ground.

everyone had thought you were crazy; you were sure of it. you were beginning to think you were truly crazy, too.

you were in your bed once more, a bowl in your hands. hazelnut soup this time, another one of your mother’s delicacies.

you felt awful; your head was throbbing, your eyes were puffy, your ass hurt from falling on it. you were sure your hair looked disarrayed, but external beauties didn’t mean shit if internally you felt suicidal.

your parents had left you at home again, your father heading off to town to find a shrink while your mother set off to find some medicinal treatments. town wasn’t too far, thankfully, so you wouldn’t be left alone for too long.

in the window behind you, something tapped irregularly. you ignored it, at first, your perpetual state of numbness too strong to escape from. you only managed to snap out of it when something hard was thrown at your window, the sudden bang of it making you jump in place. you scurried to the sill, your shaky hands swiftly opening the pane to peek your head out.

nothing save for the cool breeze and howling owls were out there. peculiar.

closing the window behind you, you immediately shouted when you turned back round to face your bed.

there he was again; choso’s form, but toji’s face inhibited it. it was something out of those stephen king novels, something so eerie it couldn’t possibly be reality.

“leave me alone,” you howled, falling to your knees and scurrying to the corner of your room where the evil entity prowled closer. “leave me the fuck alone.”

“why?” choso’s raspy, creaky voice questioned, when in truth it was truly toji’s. his smug face sneered, his sharp teeth bared and shining.

you screamed, your hands interlocked as you dug your face into your shaky knees. you rocked madly back and forth, the stench of rot and swamp drawing closer to your trembling form.

“what’re you so scared of?” the terrifying tone questioned, his hands resting on your moistened-from-sweat thighs. you timidly glanced from between your tresses, your heart suddenly stopping once you took in toji’s face. you could feel the pumping in the organ coming to a halt, your pupils dilating to the extreme as your mouth was opened in a silent scream. his purple-hued scleras coupled with the emergence of sharp, razor-teeth influenced every tissue in your body to remain very still. you could see the entity move closer to your horrified form, the teeth then sinking harshly into the skin of your neck. you couldn’t even wail; you were forced to wordlessly endure his brutal torture.

your waterlines, to toji’s accord, began to kiss each other as your eyes found themselves closed shut. the sensation of an unexpected breeze whoosked throughout your entire body; had you could, you would’ve intensely shivered. the hair on your skin’s surface found itself raised, and then instantaneously rested. the world around you had grown quiet and dark, a fact you were able to govern even from behind the mulberry-colored darkness of your eyelids.

you felt very light, like a fairy soaring over a beautiful field of dandelions. there’d been no weight on you, not from what you feel as you arose from what appeared to be an extremely restful slumber. you rubbed your eyes, your brain too foggy and tired to completely register the darkness that encompassed your glowy figure. you’d then noticed, of course, as you eventually would’ve had to, anyways.

you rubbed your eyes once more, somehow convinced that this would’ve changed the trajectory of your current predicament. “mom?” you called out, your voice light and unsure as you contemplated if this was another nightmare you were in. no response from your mother, as predicted. you began to slightly panic, your chest labored and your airy legs began to pace in circles. “dad?” you wailed, your voice growing in tremor. “mom? dad?”

“they’re not here,” a voice – toji’s – captivated your startled form. you spun dangerously around, your vocal chords dancing as you screamed bloody murder.

“where am i?” you sobbed, sinking down to your knees as you cried and shook. “where’s my parents?”

“they’re not here,” toji simply repeated, his muscular, whispery legs drawing closer to your woeful, tiny body. “you’re home.”

“no,” you hissed, crawling away from toji’s extended arms and handsome smile. “no, i’m not fucking home.”

his smile never faltered, but the little devilish gleam in his eyes subdued. “you are,” he insisted, your angry scowl and furrowed eyebrows challenging his claim. “this is your home now, too.”

“the fuck are you talking about?” you cussed, your smart-mouth suddenly shutting as he presented you with an image. your sight was replaced with the visual of your cold, murdered body on your bedroom’s oakwood-floors. your beloved parents had been crying over you, crowding your form.

your throat tightened as you felt the urge to gag.

“no!” you wailed, your body shaking violently as you pressed yourself deeper into the deception-flooring beneath you. “nonononowhycouldyoudothistomehowcouldyoudothistomewhatthefuckareyou.”

toji simply stared, unmoving nor unblinking as he observed you.

“isn’t this what you wanted?” you could hear him question, a sheen of scarlet-red coated your vision as you peered up at him through glaring eyes.

“what the fuck are you talking about?”

“that one night,” he began, his expression and tone steady. “when you wrapped that fabric around your neck-”

“-that was not for you to fucking take,” you interrupted, unable to bring your dead spirit form off the floor. “that would’ve been on my fucking terms, toji.”

silence. you found yourself growing silent for a beat, too.

“i’m enamored with you,” toji then admitted, your eyes softening not from love, but from pure defeat.

“why, toji?” you couldn’t help but question. “why did you have to appear in my wall?”

“i saved you,” he responded, surprisingly without cockiness or smugness.

you scoffed.

“you had a mundane life-”

“-i had a happy life,” you corrected. “comfortable, even.”

“is that why you tried to kill yourself?”

“oh my fuck-” you screamed, burrowing your head into into your palms.

“don’t fight it,” you could hear toji say, and you could hear the stupid little smirk he had plastered throughout his words.

“what now?” you despairingly questioned his ghostly, vibrant form. “what do you expect from me, now?”

“i expect you to wed me,” he shrugged, his head cocked as if that statement had been fucking truly expected.

nonetheless, you did wed him. it was a simple wedding; a few other ghostly figures attended, none of which you personally recognized. toji tried to pass them off as your ancestors, but you knew he was lying shamelessly through his teeth. you hadn’t worn a beautiful gown, nor had he’d worn a luxurious tux. you’d both been adorning the outfits you’d passed on in the human realm.

it’s funny, you noted; funny how the only marriage you’d ever have would not have come until you were passed into the spirit realm. you used to daydream about your possible marriage to choso, now here you were getting wed to his murderer. you wondered where choso’s spirit had gone, his presence not sensed nor seen in the small crowd present. you suspected that he’d gone to a better place, perhaps somewhere like heaven. he was an angel on earth with you, it would only be right for him to be where lightness constantly shone on his skin like crystals.

toji simply had his soul banished.

“do you accept her to be your wife?” the unearthly priest-ghost questioned.

“i do,” toji answered.

the priest swiveled to peer into you, his pearl-like eyes sunken into his wrinkled-face.

“do you accept…” his cracked voice began. “...to take toji as your husband for eternity?”

you peered into the eyes of toji, his scalera’s enticing as they shone an adoring hue of orchid-purple just for you.

“i do.”

#toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji zenin #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #toji x y/n #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen

68 notes · View notes

alien-magnolia · 1 year ago

Text

Cozy Nights

Request: yes | no

A/n: this turned out to be sfw and very cute. Thanks to @loving-and-dreaming for requesting this!

Fic description: Hyperfem, little! reader x soft top Steve Harrington. Hyperfeminine reader hides the fact that she is a little from her long term boyfriend, Steve <3 he helps her feel secure about this part of herself, and they have some soft and sweet moments together <3

The rain and snow battered the shingled roof. The pool sat frozen, watched by the surrounding dark forest, in Steve Harrington’s backyard. Inside, a soft melody of George Michael played, while Steve Harrington stood by the stove, making dinner. His doe-like brown eyes concentrated so nicely on the pot of Macaroni that he was making. Hand on his hip, and an apron on, Steve did not realize that the January storm outside had gotten stronger.

His girl did, though.

She was cuddled up on the couch, with a stuffed animal (that she hid from her Stevie) and her pink blanket. She saw that her boyfriend was in the kitchen, and so she clutched onto her stuffie for dear life, whimpering as she was getting more and more scared of the storm.

“Sweetie. Come, I made us dinner!!, her Stevie shouts out from the kitchen. She reassured herself that she can do this. She has to act big. She can NOT let him know about this. She slowly walked over to the kitchen, not realizing that her bunny was still with her. A crash and slam from the thunder outside, and she let out a whimper. Her face turned red as she saw her Stevie’s eyes on her.

“Everything okay, baby? You look a little scared,” he softly says, as he comes over to her, a hairy hand on her back, peppering her cheek with a few kisses. His knowing eyes continue to watch her as she makes excuses — completely forgetting about the stuffie in her hand. Steve plays along.

“Alright, well — come. I made us dinner,” he motions to a chair next to him. She agrees, and sits down. They eat in silence as his girl’s eyes keep darting back and forth, letting out a small squeal when the thunder strikes again. Steve puts his hand on her thighs, rubbing them a little as in a hope to calm her down.

The two have just finished their macaroni and salad. The storm outside became worse, battering the glass windows, it seemed as if it was trying to break them. The thunder became closer. It was around a mile away from the house. The both of them jump as the thunder sounds out its’ horrendous wail again.

She started to cry. She ducked her head under the table as if to hide this from him. He can NOT know.

“My love.” He comes over to her, a caring hand on her back. What’s down there, huh? Honey, it’s okay. I know you’re scared.”

She looks up at him with her tear stained face, clutching her stuffie. “Stevie.,” she mutters out in between sobs. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Steve listens intently. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. “You see, I could be really feminine sometimes. Sometimes, I also regress. Into a little…little space,” she barely gets these words out to him, crying intensely because of the storm. “It’s so embarrassing, I know,” she cries out, crying even harder. What will her boyfriend think of this?

“Hey. Hey, look at me, sweetie. This is not embarrassing. It’s you. It’s a part of you, and that’s okay. I am willing to accept that part. I had a feeling you were like this. It’s okay with me though,” Steve replies back, now on his knees to be on her level, large hand rubbing her back. “It is,?,” she mutters out.

Steve smiles warmly. “Yes. I’m more than happy to be your boyfriend and caretaker,” he replies, while kissing her on the cheek. She stands up.

“Can I call you…daddy? When I’m in this space?,” she shyly asks, looking at the floor. “Of course, sweetheart. Now come. Daddy’s gonna help you get through this storm,” he reassures her, while picking her up, bridal style, and carrying her to the couch.

Another loud crash of thunder. She cowers under the blanket. Steve’s big arm is close, around her shoulders. “I’m scared, daddy. Don’t like it,” she murmurs. He gives her a few kisses, caressing her cheek. “Hey. Daddy won’t let anything happen to his little girl. How about some warm milk and a cartoon, huh, sweetheart?,” he gently coos at her.

She nods and giggles, looking into those big brown eyes of her caregiver, her boyfriend, her Stevie. He kept her safe. Safe in his arms, from the storm, from the world. She drifted asleep in his arms, as the soft glow of carebears on the boxed tv drowning out the world.

#liz’s masterlist #liz writes 🖤#stranger things smut #steve harrington fluff #dom steve harrington #steve harrington x little!reader #steve x female reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader

116 notes · View notes

milfzatannaz · 1 year ago

Note

Any lil zii hcs?

Yes always lol

- the first time his powers really manifested, Mikey was babysitting him. So Zee’s poor assistant caught the baby floating all of his toys across the room

- they tried to keep the pregnancy a secret so zee tried to avoid Clark and J’onn for an entire month straight so they couldn’t sense it. This did not work, as both of them knew and so did most of the JLD through Xanadu

- baby Zatara II went to England for the first time to attend Tim’s university graduation with John and Zee

- his pet bunnies were his favorite playmates and he would reenact Watership Down in the backyard with them

- he loved American Girl Dolls so besides spell books his favorite books were Kit’s stories. Zee never had fancy dolls growing up so she would indulge her son and teach him to sew clothes for them

- John couldn’t figure out baby clothes clasps for shit so during a change he’d just tie a mucous membrane shirt to fit him

- he bit Tim Drake

- baby Zatara somehow ended up in The Dreaming, where Death was having a picnic with Cain and Abel. He sat in her lap and drooled on her ankh before John figured out where he was

#the last one is def a concept #Zatara ii #answered

12 notes · View notes

preygeteatenbypredssfw · 5 days ago

Text

//WIP

//Canon things I've learned from '

//General lore: Prequel story when Judy was a kid

Bunnyburrow has a carnival weekend. This'sn't to be confused with their Carrot Days Festival

Wolves, hippos, horses, and pigs have visited, and possibly live in, Bunnyburrow

Moles, squirrels, and beavers also live in Bunnyburrow

Carrot candy exists. This makes sense because in real life, carrots should be only given to bunnies as treats, as they're high in sugar and can make your bunny fat

Carrot ice cream sundaes exist. This makes half-sense

Deep-fried carrot on a stick, carrot lollypops, and carrot cotton candy exist. I'll suspend my disbelief here

Bunnyburrow's carnival weekend obviously has staff, but also tents, stands, cupcake stands, carrot candy stands, a ferris wheel, a rollercoaster, flags, balloons, balloon animals of regular and non-anthro animals, popcorn machines, fireworks, carousels with regular horses, tickets, and possibly more

The Tooth Fairy fictionally exists. As in she'sn't in the 'real' world of Zootopia. No, she'sn't called the Tooth Furry here for some reason. Also, Marty, who we'll get to later, said "Your Tooth Fairy" [...], which either means that each kid gets one, or he's misunderstanding the story or character

Beavers believe that it's good luck to keep their teeth on top of a dam

//Judy: Likes Bunnyburrow's carnival weekend

Went alone, but joined her friends there

Has or had friends named Marty Digby, Suzy Leaper, and Brandon Webber

Likes carrot candy, carrot ice cream sundaes, deep-fried carrot on a stick, and carrot lollypops

Believes in the Tooth Fairy

Didn't bleed when she lost a tooth after biting on a carrot lollypop hard. Granted, this's a kids' book, but still

Doesn't believe that Marty's way of dealing her lost tooth feels right

Helped Brandon with building a regular beaver dam

//Marty: Is a male mole

Wears glasses. This may be because, like with Chief Bogo being a water buffalo, and according to the

, "Real cape buffalo have poor eyesight, this being the reason Chief Bogo owns a pair of glasses.", Marty, as stated above,'s a mole, and, according to

, "[...] All mole species have eyes, though their vision tends to be quite basic. Scientists believe moles are colorblind and nearsighted, but that their eyes are exceptionally good at detecting light."

Went to Bunnyburrow's carnival weekend alone, but joined his friends there

Likes carrot lollypops

Doesn't find Judy's Tooth Fairy very dependable

It's an old Digby family tradition to bury your lost baby teeth in a secret corner of a cornfield

"You bury the tooth and make a wish. It'll come true as long as you leave your tooth there," [...] he explained

[...] "We just look for the tallest corn stalks in the corner" [...]

Good digger, like a regular mole

Dug a deep hole and dropped Judy's tooth in it

"We'll use this small ear of corn to mark the spot," [...] "In case you ever want to visit it"

Gave Judy's tooth that still had some dirt on it from the cornfield back to her, after Suzy, who we'll get to later, spilled all nine teeth under a nest in a knothole in great oak tree in her backyard on a cloth on the ground after Judy changed her mind about Suzy's way of dealing with Judy's lost tooth and after Suzy spread them out for Judy's to be easier to find

Helped Brandon, who we'll get to with building a regular beaver dam

//Suzy: Is a female squirrel

Went to Bunnyburrow's carnival weekend with her, or one of her, older family member, or members, who I assume's her mom

Her family keeps their teeth under a nest in a knothole in great oak tree in her backyard. They've been doing it for a while that the nest is piled high with eight squirrel teeth

"If you leave your tooth, you'll have the greatest dream ever," [...] she said

Spilled all the teeth in her tree on a cloth on the ground after Judy changed her mind about Suzy's way of dealing with Judy's lost tooth

Spread nine out for Judy's to be easier to find

Helped Brandon with building a regular beaver dam

Knows how to build a regular beaver dam

//Brandon: Is a male beaver

Went to Bunnyburrow's carnival weekend alone, but joined his friends there

Builds dams like regular beavers. The dams he makes are regular beaver dams

Got help from Judy, Marty, and Suzy with building a regular beaver dam

Knows how to build a regular beaver dam

Likes carrot lollypops

My OC, Jack Theodore Rabbit,'s notes: ""

1 note · View note

porcelainbambi · 1 year ago

Note

Also also also how are you doing today baby? Any dreams today? Got your rest?

🧺

m doing better today so far!!! i slept in this morning n will probably take a lil baby nap later. i did my yoga n worked out n had a good brunch on the porch, now it’s the early afternoon n i’m in my backyard on a blanket in the grass (as usual). i’m watching for bunnies, we’ve had a lot of bunny activity lately <33

#dolly talks🪽#🧺 anon

1 note · View note

ficsforeren · 2 years ago

Text

Our Little Secret - Chapter 5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: College AU, Spider-Man/Spider-Girl AU, Fluff, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut

Series Summary: Eren Jaeger, a 21-year-old virgin college student who loves his camera a little bit too much, has a crush on you. Every night, he switches on his camera and talks about you but he never could find the courage to speak to you in real life. Strangely enough, he finds it easy for him to befriend Spider-Girl, the crime fighting vigilante, not knowing that you both share the same identity.

Chapter Summary: Due to some miracle, Eren finally gets to go on a date with you, and you look so pretty, so cute, he doesn't know if he can survive the night without drooling all over his shirt. He doesn't know that you're Spider-Girl, the same woman he's been spending so many wonderful hours together. You want him to find out about it, but at the same time, you know it's wiser not to say a word. But when one thing leads to another... Can you really keep yourself silent?

Content Warnings: explicit sex scene (happens at the end of the series, can be skipped if you want), swearing, mentions of characters going through depression, traumatic past events

Word Count: 10k

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart on Twitter

The Coffee Club. 8 PM.

My first date ever.

The last time Eren ever felt this excited in his life was when his brother Zeke accidentally left his credit card on the coffee table. It was the best day of his twenty years of living, truly. Eren spent five hundred bucks to get himself a geometric wolf tattoo on his left forearm, and a full black tribal band tattoo on his right bicep. He wasted a few hundred more just to be a dick and get back at his brother for catching his private session on camera.

When Eren came home later that night with the biggest wicked grin and a shopping bag practically the size of his fridge, Zeke swore that from that day on, they were no longer brothers. “Oh no, I’m going to cry,” Eren faked a pout and a whine, going as far as puffing out his cheeks and pushing out his lower lip, but when he slapped back his credit card to his brother’s chest, Eren tossed him a demonic smirk. “Fine with me, Monke.” Zeke tried his very best to ignore his baby brother for, at least, a month. But only two days had passed and he came barging into his brother’s bedroom, hugged him from behind—causing Eren’s character on screen to get shot by this jackass named Noobmaster 92 (fuck you, Noobmaster92)—and cried out, “Please tell me you still love me! PLEASE TELL ME YOU STILL LOVE ME, EREN!”

So, yeah, that happened. Wait, what were we talking about again?

Oh, right! The date!

Eren has fantasized about going on a date with you ever since he got his first wet dream (he got it pretty early when he was still, like, twelve—probably because he kept stealing Zeke’s hentai mangas and read them in secret). At that time, the only female he had ever interacted with so intensely in real life was the little girl he met during his stay at the hospital (a.k.a you). Eren knew he had a crush on you from the start. He just didn’t know that he was down for you so bad that you began to take form in his dreams too.

To be honest, if he could select the girl he was going to have sex with in his dream as easily as he picked a character in his favorite game, he wouldn’t have chosen you. Of course, he would love to see himself, for the lack of a better word, fucking you in his dreams. Hell, maybe God would be kind and He would let you motorboat your tits too. But his dreams are filthy. Even filthier than his wildest imaginations and that’s saying something. And you don’t deserve to be treated like a prostitute or a sex doll. You’re a princess in his eyes—a goddess even, and that’s why you need to be worshiped. He wants to make love to you, not just to fuck your brains out in the nearest alley. Fucking is for bunnies. Or Muffin and that ugly pug that keeps trying to get inside his backyard just to get a quick hump. Eren isn’t like them. Eren is—

Damn it, we keep getting sidetracked.

So, about his date.

Eren has his thumb between his lips, teeth grinding against his nail as he sits on the bench that stands right across from the coffee shop where you’re supposed to be meeting him soon. He takes a glance at his phone screen, a smile naturally graces his lips when he sees his wallpaper—your pretty eyes looking like the most beautiful pair of crescents, your lips pulled back in the cutest grin. He notices that he’s an hour early (poor boy is too excited for his date), and that means he has to wait for another hour with his leg bouncing restlessly against the concrete, his nose turning a shade redder every time the night breeze kisses his cheeks. Spring is about to come to an end in a few more weeks, and yet here he is, still shivering like a baby deer.

He’s okay with being cold, he just doesn’t like it when the wind blows too hard because my Lord Jesus, I love you, but I spent literally an hour of my life trying to style my hair like this, so can you take it easy with the wind tonight, please? Thanks. It’s really nothing special, actually. He just tied his hair up like usual but instead of sporting that messy man-bun because he didn’t care, he’s going with the stylishly messy man-bun, as in he spent an hour in front of his bathroom mirror trying to trim and comb his hair here and there to make it seem like it already looks that good even without him doing anything. He had to watch a thirty-minute-long tutorial video called “How to Get a Man Bun like Jungkook from BTS” on YouTube to get his hair done right.

He’s dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans, a slim-fit white sweater, a nice jacket to keep him warm, and a great pair of boots instead of his usual sneakers to showcase effort. Eren still low-key thinks that he should’ve worn his suit but then again, he doesn’t want to seem too overdressed.

He’s brought you some flowers, a whole-ass bouquet called Grape Bubblegum, full of sweet colors and matches—the most playful type of bouquet, they said. The florist told him, “Judging from your story, I can tell she’s a very energetic person so I believe this one suits her best. I can guarantee that she's going to have the biggest smile on her face when you give this to her. That’s the best way to start your romantic journey together, don’t you agree?” It’s most likely bullshit—just another one of her marketing scams—but Eren snapped his fingers in the air, shouting, “Bitch, I’m sold. Take my fucking money.” Of course, he didn’t actually curse. Eren would never do that to older people. To his three years older brother Zeke? Sure, yeah, definitely. But to a sweet, sweet old woman who looked like she needed to settle in a retirement home for good? Nope.

Of course, Grape Bubblegum doesn’t look as playful and beautiful anymore when some jackass—who probably weighed a hundred pounds more than he was—accidentally sat on it on the bus. Never in his life had Eren ever felt like he was about to commit genocide from the amount of rage burning in his chest, but at that time, he really did. But no, instead of lashing out, he just said, “Dude, get off my flowers!” The two pink roses—which are supposed to be the highlight of Grape Bubblegum—are ruined but Eren continues to hold the bouquet close to his chest, not knowing what else to do since he hasn’t prepared another gift for you.

Should I run to the nearest store and grab some chocolates for her? He thinks, biting harder against his nail with his eyes glaring at his dark combat boots. No, that would make me look like I'm being half-assed about it. God, that’s the last thing I wanna do—to look like I’m—

“Hey, you’re early.”

“—BEING HALF-ASSED!” Eren jumps from his seat, his mouth spouting the last line that runs through his head as he’s shocked by the sight of you standing not a meter away from him. You’re just as surprised, taking a step back in reflex to avoid his head bumping against your chin.

“Sorry,” you say, raising both hands in the air to calm him down. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Eren didn’t catch a single second of sleep last night trying to come up with the right words to say upon your first meeting. He has prepared a whole speech, something that goes along the line of: “Hey, you came. You look so beautiful. Is that a new dress? Looks pretty on you. Me? No, I just got here. Oh, right, almost forgot, I bought you some flowers. No, it’s okay, it’s nothing. My aunt is a florist so it really wasn’t a big deal. I just hope you’ll like them. You do? You love them? Oh, thank God. I was really nervous about this whole date. Yesterday was a mess and I don’t want to repeat that mistake again. Why am I going this far for a first date, you ask? Well… Isn’t it obvious? I really like you. You’re the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I adore you with all my heart. Everything you do drives me insane and I just hope you’ll give me the chance to be closer to you. To understand you better. And to make you feel… my love.”

Okay, maybe it was a bit too much for a greeting—and corny too, probably, but if Adele could sing that line in a song, why can’t he say it to the girl who owns his heart? Nevertheless, it would still be a thousand times better than him spitting on your face—almost literally—while shouting, “BEING HALF-ASSED!”

“What did you mean about being half-assed?” And you had to ask about it too. Great. You could’ve just let him go, saved his poor soul by pretending like you didn’t hear him. But no, you just had to humiliate him even further this way. Because that’s where you find your enjoyment, isn’t it?

Eren, as he tries his best to stop himself from lying down on the pavement—crying his heart out—offers the bouquet to you with a pout and his shoulders sagging forward. You blink twice, a bit stunned as you’ve never received flowers on a first date before. You thought it was going to be a casual date—just two friends hanging out, trading coquettish smiles and flirty banter over a cup of coffee. But no, apparently for Eren, this is serious.

“Some fat guy sat on them when I was on the bus,” Eren murmurs with his chin tucked, his invisible puppy ears going down. “I’m sorry. I wanted to buy you something else but I was afraid I wasn’t going to make it on time for our date. I thought about getting you chocolates from the store, but I didn’t want to seem like I was being—"

“Half-assed about it,” you finish, accepting the flowers from his hands. Happiness glows inside you. He doesn’t need to bring you flowers to make you smile. Just seeing him like this, with his blush painting his cheeks and a pout growing prominent on his face, this is enough. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to bring me anything. I already feel so happy knowing that you put that much thought into it. I’m sorry I didn’t bring you anything.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.”

“Is there anything I could do for you?” You offer him a benign smile. “Is there anything you want me to do?”

Eren swallows, his mind coming up with a thousand different answers at once. Of course, he has something he wants you to do for him. He has a lot of things he wants you to do, to him, for him, and with him. But one thought stands more vividly than the rest, especially when he rakes his eyes over your appearance. You’re wearing a soft pink trench coat above your black skirt and chiffon blouse, and a pair of boots that accentuate your legs. On top of your hair is a beanie—the cutest one he’s ever seen—to keep yourself warm, and a patterned navy blue scarf to protect your neck from the night wind. You look like you’re walking out of a romantic movie, a true heroine of a beautiful love story.

“Can I, umm…” He tightens his grip around the strap of his bag that’s hanging on one shoulder. “Can I take your picture? I-if you don’t mind.”

“You mean right now?” You look around to take a quick scan of your surroundings. A few people are walking down the pavements, mostly young couples sharing giggles between conversations as they hold each other’s hands.

Eren notices how you seem a bit uncomfortable by the thought of striking poses in public. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” he hastily adds.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, smoothening down your skirt. You move closer to the streetlamp to get better lighting, standing a bit awkwardly as you hold his flower tightly in your hands. “Like this? Let me know if I look weird, okay?”

“You’re beautiful,” he says without even giving a second for his brain to digest your words. Retrieving his DSLR camera from his bag, he takes off his lens cover and offers you a sheepish smile. “You’ll always look beautiful to me, no matter what you do. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“That’s…” You can already feel your heart pounding like a drum and your date just started literally seven minutes ago. “That’s too much, but thank you.”

Seeing how your usually confident self is turning diffident, Eren feels his cheeks getting warmer. Ah, she’s so cute, he wants to shout it to the world. “I will, umm,” he clears her throat, bringing his camera closer to his face. “I will just—“

“Yeah, just take it.”

It feels so awkward having him take pictures of you on the street like this as you are more accustomed to striking poses while keeping your identity hidden underneath your Spider-Girl costume. You feel bare and exposed, feeling how intense his gaze is even from behind his camera. After a few clicks, Eren brings his device down, taking a quick look at the photos.

“Do they come out nice?” You ask him.

“Yes.” He seems immensely pleased, looking like he just had his wish granted after years of waiting, which in a way, is true. “You look perfect.”

Ignoring the way your stomach somersault from his comment, you take a stride toward him. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who gets photographed over here.” Eren watches you take out your phone from your coat pocket. “Can I? To commemorate our first date.”

Eren, realizing what you’re planning to do, nods shakily. “S-sure.” Never in his life had he thought he would have the chance to take a selfie together with you but there he is, standing close enough for him to get a waft of your shampoo.

“Maybe it’s better if you hold it since you’re taller than me,” you say and he nods again. His words have left him for good. Your scent’s too intoxicating for him to think.

Taking a hold of your phone, he bends down a little to fit his face right next to yours in the frame. “Okay, uhh, on three,” he says, sounding noticeably nervous and you refrain yourself from giggling. “One, two…” He taps his thumb twice on your phone’s screen before he hands it back to you. You take a look at them together, with Eren, who’s standing close behind you, grimacing right away at the sight. “Ugh, I look so weird.”

“No, you’re cute,” you correct him, turning his body stiff when you suddenly look up at him. The proximity you’re in is the closest you’ve ever been to him, and while you do feel your heartbeat escalating just a tad faster, Eren’s is soaring through the roof. “You’re the cutest boy I’ve ever taken a selfie with. Thank you, Eren.”

“Umm, yeah…” You can see his eyes drift down to your lips before he averts his gaze. “Y-you’re welcome.”

“Is it okay if we take another one?”

She’s planning to kill me, she really is. “Sure.”

Eren is somewhat right because you do have a plan, not to kill him, just… tease him a little bit. “Ready? One, two…” Right as he clicks the shutter button on your screen, you stand on your toes and plant a kiss on his cheek. Eren’s eyes widen in surprise, the camera catches a picture of it. Your phone nearly slips out of his grip when he backs away from you, face flushed. “What—why—did you just—” he stammers, his thoughts scattering all over the place.

Giggling, you snatch back your phone from his hand, going through your gallery. “Hey, it looks perfect!” You chirp gleefully while Eren is still trying to collect himself. You hook a hand around his arm, tugging him close until his shoulder bumps against yours. “Don’t we look cute together?” You show him the picture of you looking like nothing but a pair of lovers with scarlet cheeks and an innocent kiss. Eren is blushing hard enough for his ears to buzz. He still can’t believe this is happening. “Do you want me to send the pictures to you?”

He gives three little timid nods. “Y-yes, please.”

Cute, cute, cute, cute, he’s so cute. “Okay, done. Now we can have matching wallpapers if you want.”

Fourteen minutes into the date and this is already the best thing that’s ever happened in his life.

As he places back his camera into his bag, You take a moment to breathe in the scent of roses and lavender from the bouquet he’s given you. You have the most radiant, expressive smile breaking on your lips as you close your eyes, reveling in the fragrance.

Watching you like this… Eren feels his heart singing again. You look so small, so delicate. Graceful too with your fingers pushing a lock of your hair so it won’t fall over your face. You leave him dizzy, breathless even, just by the mere sight of you looking up at him from underneath your lashes. “I’ll put this in a vase when I get home. They say fresh flowers could last up to twelve days if you take care of them properly. I’ll try my best to make them last.”

God, you would look so pretty in a wedding dress. “Y-you don’t have to. I will get you new flowers when they’ve withered away. I can send you a bouquet every week if you want.”

“How very committed of you,” you croon, pursing your lips in a way that makes his flush spread to his ears. “Why don’t we just focus on getting through the night for now? If you’re on your best behavior, maybe we can arrange a second date.” You don’t even have to add a wink to give him a heart attack. Your words already did that for you.

“I—Really?”

“Yes,” you chuckle, amused by how his entire face just brightened at the thought. “By the way, when did you get here? I thought I was early but you already got here before me. Did you wait long?”

“N-no.” He looks away, rubbing the tip of his nose. “I just got here.”

You’re a terrible liar. “And when was that exactly?”

“About…” He grows nervous under your gaze. Wincing, he decides to tell the truth. “An hour ago?”

“Oh my God—really? Why didn’t you go inside the coffee house? It’s freezing out here.”

“I’m not cold.” He tries to convince you by straightening his back, even though his hands are shivering inside the pockets of his jacket.

“Your nose is red, dummy.” You shake your head, pushing back the bouquet to his chest. “Hold the flowers for me?”

“Umm, okay,” he complies although his forehead creases in confusion. “What are you—”

Without waiting for him to finish, you quickly untangle your scarf, standing on your toes to hook the wooly fabric around his neck. Eren holds his breath, his eyes turning round. Tugging him closer by the scarf, you force his body to lean toward you. He catches a whiff of the perfume you wore for the night, even when the wind is blowing hard enough to raise the tiny hairs on his nape—or maybe it’s because of how close you are to him.

You toss him a smile, feeling satisfied when you witness how much effects you have on him. “Do you know how to tie a Parisian scarf knot?”

Your voice is thick with charm in his ears, melodious and a bit… seductive. He swallows his breath, fingers curling into fists as he tries to stop his eyes from wandering anywhere else but your eyes. Your lips look so inviting, but he doesn’t want to look more obvious than he already does. “No, Ma’am.” He discovers his voice again after spending what feels like forever trying to process your question.

“Well, it’s really easy. Fold your scarf in half widthwise.” You practice directly on him, doing the same thing your lips instructed you to. “Then fold in half again lengthwise. Drape the scarf over your neck, and then—bend down a little for me?”

Eren’s face is burning bright but he follows. This time, he can’t stop himself from gazing at your lips. He can tell that you’re wearing a different shade of lipstick tonight. You keep your make-up to a minimum but you applied bold red lipstick to grab his attention. And boy, you didn’t just steal his attention. You’re taking his entire breath away.

“Then you bring the loose ends through the hole,” you continue, pretending like you’re oblivious to the thoughts of him wanting to get a taste of your lip gloss. “Tighten the scarf around your neck and voila.” You beam at him with a youthful grin, patting your hands once against his chest. “There you have it. A Parisian scarf knot. Does it feel warm, big boy?”

Warm? He’s about to burst into fucking flames. He shakily nods. “Yes, Ma’am, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you grin, taking the flowers back from him.

“What about you?” Eren asks, eyebrows stitched in concern. “Aren’t you cold?”

“No, the scarf was just an accessory.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, if you’re that worried,” you roll your eyes playfully at him, shifting the bouquet to your right hand while you offer him your left one. “Here.”

Eren just stares at it like the idiot that he is. “Umm… Do you want your scarf back?”

“No, silly.” You snatch away his hand, lacing your fingers together before you bring them inside the pocket of your trench coat. Eren’s jaw hangs slack on his face but he’s not given the time to react when you take a step forward, walking toward the path you were coming from.

Eren, low-key panicking (actually, maybe high-key), follows after your trail as he’s left with no choice. His hand is probably sweaty and gross but you hold it firmly as if he’s the other set of puzzles you need to complete you. “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?” He asks with a quiver in his voice. “L-like, your hand in my pocket instead of mine in yours?”

“True, but let’s not get too predictable.” This time, you do hurl a wink at him and a little bit of his soul just ascends to heaven.

“Where are we going?” He tries not to think too much about how your hand fits his perfectly or how delightfully warm you are. “I thought we were going to get coffee?”

“I’ve changed my mind. We’re gonna catch a movie instead. You like watching movies, right? Except for the scary ones.”

“Yeah…” But then he furrows his eyebrows, suspicion in his gaze. “Wait, how do you know I don’t like scary movies?”

Oh, shoot. “Well, I mean…” You hope your giggle would be enough to mask how tense you are. “I… have been doing research about you.” What am I even saying? “I mean, I’ve had my eyes on you for a while too. Isn’t it natural for me to want to know what interests you and what doesn't?” Okay, to be fair, that makes a lot of sense but God, that was so embarrassing!

But if your goal is to divert his attention away from the topic, it works perfectly. Right now, Eren is taking a trip over the moon, his spirits flying high at the thought of you asking around about him because you’re interested in him. “Do you, umm…” He wets his lip, his heart thrashing wildly inside his rib cages. “Do you… have a crush on me?”

Are you for real right now?! Who asks that kind of question?! But you’ve got no other choice but to say yes. You have to make your previous sentence believable, don’t you? And it’s not like you’re lying about it. You do have a crush on him. Actually, it’s even bigger than that. You’re probably in love with him at this point. But admitting it out loud to the person you have feelings for? Doesn’t that mean you’re going to do the same as he did on the rooftop, telling stories about you to Spider-Girl? Except you’re going to sound like a bigger idiot this time since you’re not going to accidentally tell him about your feelings just because you happened to be clueless about his secret identity. Eren’s alter ego is a giant pervert and you already know that from day one, and now you’re going to admit your feelings to him like this.

I hate myself.

You sigh, glaring into the night as you admit bashfully, “Yeah. Kinda.” Ah, I want to die.

You’re not sure what you expect him to say. Maybe you want him to be honest too? Make this a little less awkward and humiliating by saying, “That’s good because I have a crush on you too. And it’s so bad that I had to jerk off to your pictures and tell the town’s most famous superheroine about it.” or something like that. But of course, that only happens in your mind because now silence comes third-wheeling on your date, and you’re this close to shooting your web and swinging away from the scene.

Then you hear him sniffling.

Spinning your head so fast, you almost give yourself a head rush. “Are you crying right now?”

He is. He so is. Well, not actually crying like how he bawled his eyes out when he watched Hachiko—that movie had no business being that sad and depressing. But yes, Eren may have gotten a little bit emotional by your confession. Could you really blame him, though? Adoring someone from afar for two fucking years without doing anything but secretly taking your pictures is not an easy feat. Eren really thought he would never find the chance to talk to you, let alone go on a date with you like this. And now you’re telling him you’ve got a crush on him too?

“N-no,” he mumbles, tossing his face to the side as he rubs the back of his hand against his nose. “I’m just—I’m cold.”

“You literally just said you weren’t cold.”

“Yeah, but that was just me trying to look strong.” He sniffles again. “I’m actually very sensitive to cold.”

He really can’t lie to save his life, but that attempt deserves a reward so you bump your shoulder against his in a playful manner, letting out the softest laugh as you do. “You’re blushing so hard right now, I can tell.”

“I know,” he admits with his head hanging low. “I’m so pathetic.”

“I think you’re adorable.”

“C-calling a grown-ass man adorable isn’t really a compliment, you know.”

“And yet, it makes you blush even harder. I say it is, big boy.”

Your smirk is supposed to seem evil but to Eren, you just look so titillating, his brain immediately takes a snapshot of your expression for his, uhh… late-night entertainment. “You’re going to kill me someday,” he mutters, his pout returning to his lips.

“Well…” You release his hand only to hug his arm against your chest, your cheek grazing against the fabric of his jacket as you walk side by side with barely a centimeter separating you. “Let’s just hope someone will be there to save you.”

At this rate, even Quicksilver can’t be fast enough to save him from dying. “You’re a dangerous woman.”

***

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I fell asleep. I’m so sorry.”

That’s what you’ve been saying for the last fifteen minutes as you walk out of the theater with one hand holding your bouquet and another one cupping your face, fingers tapping lightly against your cheek so it would stop feeling like it’s catching on fire.

You had a plan. A very thorough plan involving you leaning your head against his shoulder as you both watched a romantic movie playing on the big screen; you giving him signs that it would be okay for him to hold your hand and maybe, just maybe, he could lean in to kiss you too. Not wanting to sound desperate or anything, but you have been thinking about doing intimate things with him for a while, especially after he confessed his whole feelings to you—well, to Spider-Girl—on the rooftop two nights ago. You can’t help it. After knowing that he likes you so much, it’s impossible for you not to expect something to happen tonight. Especially since you knew that he’s been thinking about you in sexual ways too. If he had one hand wrapped around his dick just from being aroused at the thought of you, obviously he would want to do something more than hold hands, wouldn’t he?

You’re both still in your early twenties. It’s natural to have your hormones going crazy at the thought of being in the dark with a cute boy. Boys might not know this, but girls think about sex just as much as boys do, don’t they? It’s been a while since you’ve let loose and made out with a handsome quarterback at the back of his car. It doesn’t help that you’re still a virgin too, just like Eren. You have a desire burning inside you, and an endless amount of curiosity needing to be answered. But it’s not just physical contact that you crave, it’s the emotional bond too. You want to feel like you’re in love. You want to be loved, and Eren, you know for certain, has so much of that to give you. If only you had followed your plan, you might have been able to have all that. Because the movie date was supposed to be cute, with him stealing glances and gazing at you with those lovestruck eyes every time he caught you smiling at him, but no, what happened was—

“I think it’s cute that you were already snoring in the first ten minutes,” Eren simpers.

Fire burns your cheeks. “I did not snore.”

“You did. Pretty loudly too. There was this couple sitting in front of us that kept looking back to check up on you.”

“Oh my God.” You rub a hand over your face, hiding your lower half behind your palm. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Eren laughs wholeheartedly, placing his hand above your head just like how a big brother would tease his sister. “Guess being the top student can be pretty hard, huh?”

Being a top student? Nah. Running around the town catching drug dealers and stopping car chases at three in the morning? Yeah, probably. “I’m so sorry,” you vocalize with regret in your tone. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Studying?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “There’s this science olympics I have to participate in next month and I’ve got so many things to prepare. I need to land first place or my dad’s gonna kill me. My body must have given up on me.”

He stops walking, taking your hand so naturally this time that it leaves you—the one who took the initiative—flustered. “Are you okay?” He asks, concern overtaking his face. “I can take you home if you want to rest. We don’t have to do this tonight.”

Your heart melts a little. He’s always like this. So attentive, so caring, putting your needs above everything else. “It’s fine,” you assure him with a smile. “I slept like a baby for two hours just now—I’m fully recharged. Thank you for lending me your shoulder the whole time. Is your arm okay?”

“Yeah,” he tosses you his lopsided grin. “Just a bit smelly ‘cause you drooled all over my jacket.”

“Shut up!”

Conversations start to flow naturally as you both grow more comfortable with each other’s presence. The initial awkwardness has vanished without a trace, transforming into a sense of familiarity that shrouds you as if you were two friends who had been spending time together for weeks. Which, of course, you are, but Eren doesn’t know this.

He doesn’t blush so often anymore but you, on the other hand, are becoming worse and worse in that department. The more comfortable he is with you, the more honest he becomes, and the more he feels like he can say anything he wants to say. He told you how he really liked it when you wore your hair up in a ponytail, how it made you look sporty and fresh, and even a bit sexy (he still turned red at the last part, but he didn’t stammer like a five-year-old trying to tell a story). He told you how he liked the scent of your strawberry shampoo—how it suited your sweet and cheerful personality, and how he always thought of you these days when he was out shopping for groceries and he saw strawberries sitting on the fruit counter. He told you that you have a beautiful laugh, the kind that can elevate people’s moods, like sunshine seeping through dark clouds. Everything he says sends blood pooling on your face. It doesn’t help that he never lets go of your hand as you walk down the street, doing the same thing you did to him earlier—interlacing your fingers together and sticking them inside the pocket of his coat.

“Warm?” He asks, his smile is sheepish but his pretty green eyes are radiant, glimmering under the city lights.

You nod, heart palpitating. This doesn’t feel like a first date. It feels like you’ve been lovers for months.

How perfect is this? Fate came in to introduce you to one another when you were children, and now it’s doing the same thing by reuniting you with him again. Not to mention that your alter ego, Spider-Girl, also met him by accident and now she’s playing a huge part in his life as well. It’s like the universe wants you to be together. But as you fall harder for him with every second passing by, Eren is feeling the opposite.

Unbeknownst to you, Eren hasn’t been a hundred percent honest tonight. He’s said the things he wanted to say but there are still some matters that he holds to himself, and that is the fact that he keeps seeing Spider-Girl in everything you do.

It’s weird. Maybe even sickening at some point. Because how can he think about another girl when he’s going on a date with the girl he’s been secretly in love with for years? He can see Spider-Girl in the little gestures that you make. The way your hands move animatedly in the air when you get too excited as you retell your story; the way you snort and say something witty or sarcastic whenever he’s being a little bit corny. But ultimately, Spider-Girl comes alive in his mind every time you laugh. He can hear it. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine it was Spider-Girl who was chortling at his joke. Even the little giggles you let out ring familiarly in his ears too.

But why? Why can’t he stop thinking about her when he’s with you? This isn’t right. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen. He’s supposed to be head over heels for you and only you. Eren shouldn’t let himself feel like this for a second longer but the more he tries to forget about Spider-Girl, the more his mind does the opposite.

There are two logical explanations to elucidate the emotion he’s going through: a) for some bizarre reason, you are indeed Spider-Girl herself or b) he’s…

I’m in love with Spider-Girl too.

Eren feels something weird crawling up his chest, something he can’t really describe. It feels both like dread and also joy. It feels so wrong to admit it to himself, feels even worse that he just realized it now. He’s trying so hard not to believe it that he forces himself to return and think further about his first option.

You’re Spider-Girl. God, even saying it in his head already sounds so ridiculous to him. How can you, one of the university’s best students, have the time to fight crimes? Or even the motivation to sacrifice your life every night to fight a gang of mafias or the Lizard? You just said it yourself that you had to stay up all night to prepare for the olympics. Plus, You’re so different compared to Spider-Girl. You’re much more feminine, even clumsy at times too, while Spider-Girl is this badass fighter with fast reflexes and superhuman strength. Of course, you being clumsy is just a part of your cover, but how could Eren know that? How could he know that the personality you’re showing right now is a part of the illusion you create to make you seem more normal? You’re not this feminine. You’re not this graceful. You don’t laugh with a hand covering your lips to be polite. You laugh with your head thrown back and your eyes shut closed. The real you—the one who has your true personality—is Spider-Girl.

“Hey, are you okay?” Even with your gentle call, Eren still flinches as if you just shouted at him. “You’ve been quiet for a while. What’s wrong?”

He’s staring at you like he’s seeing a ghost and for a moment, you feel your chest tightening too. Has he realized it? Has he figured out that I’m Spider-Girl? Fuck, what gave me away? I thought I was being careful all night. But that’s not it. Eren isn’t panicking because he’s learned the truth about your identity. He’s freaking out because he’s starting to believe that he really is in love with two women at the same time.

This is bad, he thinks, fidgeting as the words sink even harder. This is so bad.

“N-nothing, sorry,” he forces out a laugh. “Should we go, umm, get some coffee?”

***

“I had a great time today,” you say, turning around on your heels to face him with the sweetest smile you can offer. Standing on the crosswalk, your bodies are bathed in the yellowish glow of the lamppost, two pairs of eyes locking together as the world turns blurry behind you. The digital clock on your phone screen shows that it’s a few minutes away before midnight strikes. The peaceful town has turned quiet. Stores are closed. Most of the locals have returned to their families, all warmed up in the serenity of their homes. There are still a few cars passing by, shining headlights and casting shadows to stretch under your feet. It would’ve been comforting, this atmosphere between you, if your heartbeat didn’t chime so clamorously in your ears.

You’re still struggling to wash away the anxiety in your chest, worried that he’s found out about your secret. But if he did, why doesn’t he say so? Is he waiting for you to make the first move and tell him the truth? It doesn’t make any sense. Wouldn’t he be happy to know that you were the same girl who’d spent countless hours with him, talking your heart out every night? Or is he embarrassed over the fact that you already knew about the feelings he had for you—the real version of you?

Oh no, you almost gasp in shock. What if he’s angry at me for keeping my identity a secret? What if he’s upset that I didn’t stop him when he talked about his crush—about me? What if he thinks I’m annoying for messing around with him? What if he hates me now?

Your head is going round and round and round that you feel like you’re on the verge of throwing up. But when you tilt up your chin to meet his gaze, Eren doesn’t seem like he’s vexed. Rather than angry, he just seems… conflicted. About what, you’re not so sure.

“Me too.” Eren smiles, answering your earlier question. Now that you’re about to part ways, he releases your hand. It feels strange to have spaces between your fingers again, as you’ve grown too comfortable from having his lean ones filling the gaps. “Thank you for lending me your scarf. I’ll wash it before I return it to you.”

“You can have it.” You beam at him, hoping that it would look natural. “It looks better on you, anyway.”

He still turns abashed like he always does, but it doesn’t last long. The next time you blink, he returns to his distraught state.

You’re both too caught up in your own thoughts to form words but you’re recovering faster than he is. With turmoil sitting heavily inside your chest, you feebly ask him, “Is there… something wrong?”

He blinks. “What?”

“It’s just…” You take in a sharp breath. “I feel like something is bothering you, and I keep rewinding everything that we did, trying to figure out what I did wrong but… Are you angry at me..?”

His brain stutters for a moment, every part of him goes on pause as his thoughts catch up. Shit, what have I done? “Nothing’s bothering me!” Eren claims a little bit louder than intended. “I’m so sorry for making you feel worried. I’m not angry at you—I would never—you could never anger me. I’m just… I have some… thoughts, that’s all.”

Okay, that’s a relief. You can sense honesty both in his voice and his expression. “About what? If that’s okay to ask…”

Eren bites on the corner of his lower lip, anxious. “I’m—” He parts his lips but nothing comes out. What am I supposed to say to her? I’m in love with you but I feel like I’m also in love with someone else? “I…”

It’s nerve-wracking to see him this way and you can’t stand the tension. What if he’s about to say something you don’t want to hear? “You know what, never mind, it’s okay.” You end your sentence quickly with a peal of laughter that sounds too strained even in your own ears. “I didn’t mean to pry. So, uhh…” You hook your hands between your back, fingers tied around the bouquet to stop him from seeing how jittery you are. “Do you… Do you still want to do this again?”

“Yes,” Eren answers instantly, his breath quickening for some reason. “Yeah, of course. If you want to, I would love to go out with you again.” Maybe if I spend more time with her, I can make sure of my feelings. “I really enjoyed our date tonight. Truly.”

Your smile is genuine but it doesn’t lift the heavy anchor resting in your chest. “Cool. Maybe next time we can have, like, a study date? Finals are coming up soon. We can study at your place if you want.”

“M-my place?” He asks, stupefied. “Umm… Okay. Just the two of us?”

“Do you want me to invite someone else?” You wanted to tease him but your tone sounds flat as if you’re enervated.

Eren’s fingers curl against the side of his jeans. “No…”

“Then I guess it’s just gonna be you and me. I don’t have anything planned for tomorrow, actually. I’m free after I’m done with my ballet practice. Maybe… I can visit your house after that?”

Eren gives two little nervous nods. “O-or I can just pick you up? I’ll borrow Zeke’s bike and we can grab some takeouts before we go to my—” He clears his throat, face aflame. “My house.”

“Okay.” You didn’t feel awkward at all during the date, and now awkwardness is all you feel. “Okay, yeah, that sounds great.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you again for the flowers.” Your eyes shift to the same spot of his skin where you brushed your lips against just a few hours before. It’s supposed to be easier the second time, but now you can’t even lean close to give him a friendly hug. Restraining a sigh from fleeing out of your mouth, you toss him one last smile before you pivot on your heels.

“Wait,” Eren calls out, his fingers clamping your wrist. “Let me walk you home, please.”

“No, it’s all right, I’ll take a cab.” You tug your hand gently, enough for him to get the message and let you go. He’s about to protest when you repeat, “I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”

The roles are now reversed. Eren can tell there’s something you’re hiding behind your smile, but he’s too much of a coward to use his voice. What if you feel like he’s invading your privacy too much?

There he goes again, worrying. You realize maybe you’ve come out a bit too strong. Gathering as much courage as you can, you take two quick steps toward him, yank him down by his scarf and place another kiss on his cheek. You can hear him stifling down his gasp as you sweep your lips against his smooth skin. When you break away a second later, you keep your fingers around his scarf, keeping his face hovering just a couple of inches away from yours as you whisper, “Good night.”

Bewitched by your beauty, he finds it hard to breathe. “G-good night.”

You release him. Your smile will be an everlasting memory in his mind. And as you walk away, Eren keeps his eyes trained on your figure.

There’s no doubt that he loves you. Otherwise, how else can he explain this rapid beating of his heart every time he caught a glimpse of you? How else can he explain this sense of elation and gratitude that flowed through him every time you cast him a smile? But why…

Why can’t I stop thinking about her?

Why can’t I stop thinking about Spider-Girl?

***

Eren has been spending the last twenty minutes of his bus ride home just staring at the window with vacant eyes and a storm churning inside his chest. He has taken off the knitted scarf you wound around his neck, his fingers laid idle on the wool as he sets it down on his lap. The scent of your perfume still lingers close but instead of giving him the sense of longing to see you again, it leaves him at sixes and sevens. He thought joy would be the only thing that filled the depth of his heart after his first date with you but now it seems like it’s something intangible. Every time he thinks about you, he thinks about Spider-Girl too, and remorse floods his chest. He folds the scarf and tucks it inside his bag, hoping that he could wash away the guilt that way, even if it’s only for a moment.

As he walks away from his bus stop, Eren retrieves his camera from his bag and wears the black strap around his neck. With his shoulders hunched forward, he switches it on and goes through the pictures he’s taken of you a while ago. His smile still blooms on his face at the sight of you smiling a bit awkwardly to the camera, but it’s faint, barely visible. He clicks on the same button repeatedly, going from one picture to another until his gaze lands on the candid photos of Spider-Girl that he took. He feels his heart jolt. Flashback of the night you shared with him on the rooftop—the way you sounded when you laughed, the retorts you made as he told you his jokes… His smile turns a bit wider this time. For the first time in his life, remembering Spider-Girl spreads more contentment in his chest than the thoughts of you.

Because to him, Spider-Girl feels more… real.

Thunder rumbles above his head, flashing silver light across the night sky. Knowing how it’s about to rain, Eren swerves to the right, stepping inside an abandoned alley that he’s walked a thousand times in his life. It’s a shortcut that takes him right to the road that leads to his house. He’s never bothered by how eerie and quiet it is, not even perplexed by the thought of being alone in the dark with only the moonlight guiding his steps. Except the moon is hidden behind the dark clouds tonight, and he fastens his steps, trying to get home as fast as possible before his body is drenched by the rain.

But he’s forced to slow down the second he crosses paths with a few men covered in tattoos and piercings.

A man, a few inches shorter than he is with bleached hair, purposefully bumps his shoulder against his, almost causing his camera to slip off his grip. Eren stops walking, lifting his head as the other man turns around to cast him a wicked grin. The other three males sneer, tossing their cigarettes away to the ground and crushing them under their boots.

“What do you have over there, champ?” The man with the bleached hair asks, yellowish teeth peeking behind chapped lips. “Looks expensive.”

Eren’s cautious eyes drift down to catch him sliding his hands inside the pocket of his hoodie. He’s probably going for his knife, a voice inside him tells him to be prepared. Eren feels his muscles tautening, his heart gradually pumping more blood through his veins as the four men begin to circle him, leaving him with no way to escape.

“Hand us the camera,” another man says, this one has a barcode tattoo on the side of his neck. “We’re gonna need your phone and your wallet too.”

Rain starts to pour. Eren feels the droplets sliding down his cheeks before he can see them. Switching off his camera, he tightens his grip around it. “Look, man,” he says, “I don’t want any trouble here.”

“Give me the camera then.” The tallest one among them suddenly takes a closer step, giving him no choice but to back away. He has his spine glued to the wall, his heart pounding in his ears but he keeps his jaw clenched tight.

“No,” Eren utters through gritted teeth, and within a split second, the taller male has a pocket knife pressed against his throat.

“I wasn’t asking,” he says, voice hoarse and grating.

Eren doesn’t blink or cower in fear. He faces the man right in his eyes. “Ganging up on me like this. What are you, a bunch of pussies?”

“You fucking—”

Eren knees the man right between his legs hard enough to give him a moment to escape. He ducks his head down, the tip of the man’s knife only missing a few millimeters from slicing his skin. He knows that his chances of winning the fight are close to zero. So instead of holding his ground, he chooses to flee. Still with his camera dangling around his neck and his bag slinging on one shoulder, Eren sprints away as fast as he can.

But the ground is dark and slippery under the rain, and he misses his footing. Falling to one knee with his palms scratching against the pavements, Eren gets himself pulled back to his feet by one hand tugging at his roots and another slithering around his throat.

Fuck. Terror rises fast in his chest. His brain can’t think fast enough to find a way for him to escape. One man is holding him from behind, the other two are closing in on him, while the tallest one moves to loom before him.

“You’ve got a pretty face for a man,” the tall man grins, pointing the tip of his blade toward his cheekbone as Eren tries to break free. “Why don’t we put a smile on that face, yeah?”

“Get off me, you fucking—”

The rest of his sentence is followed by a silent gasp when a lump of web shoots over Eren’s shoulder. It covers the tall man’s face with a force hard enough to knock him off his balance before another thick string of web, sticky and unyielding, glues him to the ground, keeping him immobile. Before Eren can process what’s happening, another man falls to the earth with a broken nose, screaming in agony into the night. The man that was holding him from behind has his body smashed against the wall, and Eren can see you—Spider-Girl—aiming your wrist forward and shooting enough chunks of web to trap the man to the bricks behind him. Now that he can’t move, it leaves you one more opponent to take care of.

This is the first time Eren sees you in action. The way you hold your fighting stance; the way you drop down to the ground with one leg bent on the knee and another one stretched out; the way you hold your balance with one hand in the air and your other one settled on the concrete only by your fingertips—you’re beautiful. You’re deadly and graceful at the same time, like a ballet dancer performing the third act of Swan Lake. Within seconds, you knock the last gang member unconscious. Eren is about to call out to you when the man with the broken nose returns to his feet and hooks an arm around his neck.

“Don’t move or I’ll slit his throat,” the man with the bleached hair threatens with his teeth bared, and you freeze.

The rain is tapping against your hood, your costume glistening but not soaked. You raise your arms in the air, keeping your lips tightly pressed as you straighten your back. You watch Eren through your lenses and you see no fear in his eyes even if the tip of the man’s knife is digging dangerously into his skin. You, on the other hand, are nervous. Fear can turn someone as harmless as a baby lamb into a cornered wolf and by the look of it, this man is terrified by the things you can do. One stupid move and you’ll risk Eren’s life. If the man adds just a little bit more pressure onto his knife, Eren will have his white sweater soaked in red.

“Let him go,” you carefully say, not wanting to startle him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” the man says, his voice muffled by the amount of blood clogging his nose. When you don’t budge, he starts to scream. “Are you deaf?! I said, get the fuck away—”

To his surprise—and yours—Eren slams his elbow against the man’s stomach, successfully knocking the wind out of his lungs in one try. Now that he’s released from his headlock, he grabs the man by the shoulder and takes a small step back to unbalance him. Quickly turning around as he maintains a strong grip on his body, Eren pulls his arm as far over his shoulder as he can. It sends his opponent sailing over his head and landing flat on his back. He finishes with a hard punch to his face and the man is laid out cold on the ground.

Your eyes are wide open, baffled by how swift and precise Eren’s movement was. With that amount of muscle in his body, you could tell that he could win his fight if needed. You just didn’t think that he’d perform a complete martial move on him.

“Wow,” you say, walking through the rain to get to his spot. “Didn’t think you could pull that kind of stunt. I’m impressed.”

“Fuck, that hurt,” Eren hisses, clenching and unclenching his fist as his knuckles throbs with pain. Massaging his hand, he replies to your comment, “Yeah, I took a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu class one time out of curiosity. That’s the only move I know how to do. Didn’t think it would work.”

“Well, you did great.” Now that you’re just an arm’s reach away from him, you gently take a hold of his wrist, bringing it closer to your face so you can inspect it further. You can feel him stiffen under your touch but none of you act on it. “This is gonna bruise tomorrow. You better treat it before you go to bed. Wrap an ice pack in a towel and leave it in place for about ten to twenty minutes. That will help you reduce the swelling.”

Eren watches the way your fingers move delicately against his, the material of your spandex gliding against his skin as you try to soothe his pain. His heart throbs again but it has nothing to do with the amount of adrenaline that rushed through his system merely a minute ago.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice as quiet as the rain that still pours lightly above you. “For saving me.”

“Yeah, you have a knack for getting into trouble,” you snort, acting aloof as you don’t want him to witness the amount of relief that washes over you.

“Well, fortunately for me, you seem like you have a knack for saving my life.” Seeing you here, hearing your voice, Eren burns with fierce joy. He turns a bit playful, his heart grows enamored at the sight of you.

You can sense the changes in his tone and the way his fingers move slightly against yours as if he’s trying not to be so obvious but also giving you a hint that he wants you to hold his hand tighter—to touch him longer.

You release him, not wanting to be ensnared by his spell even further than you already have. You relocate your hand to your hip, scolding him like a mother. ��Seriously, I left you for one night and you almost got stabbed to death. Can’t you give me a break?”

“It’s not like I was looking for trouble. Shit just happened.”

“You’re lucky you have me saving your ass.”

“I am. I’m glad I have you with me.” The corners of his mouth turn up, bedazzling you with a saccharine smile until he leaves you dumbfounded, the rest of your body immobile save by the delightful swirl dancing in your stomach. “Seems like I have a superheroine stalker.”

Why are you looking at me like that? You muse, your eyes taking in every bit of his expression from behind your lenses. Why do you look like you’re… Your thought is left unfinished when your memory resurfaces. Eren is displaying the same gaze he showed you when you talked to him for the first time on the day the cherry blossom petals were dancing in the wind. That dazed, besotted look on his face as if you were the most gorgeous thing his eyes had the pleasure to revel in. But why? You’re not the most gorgeous thing he’s seen, at least not now when you’re buried underneath your costume. He should’ve had this look when he bid his farewell to you an hour ago, but he didn’t, did he? You made his heart resonate with joy when you granted a kiss on his cheek but he didn’t even hold your hand to stay longer. He didn’t perceive you with this gaze. He doesn’t look like he’s madly in love with you. Not like this. Not like now.

You’re paralyzed for a second when it dawns on you.

Oh, shit.

He likes Spider-Girl.

And everything clicks. The way he seems perplexed when you kissed him on the cheek, the way he didn’t ask you to stay longer. Perhaps it’s also the reason why he’s no longer wearing your scarf.

No wonder he looked so distraught before! He was trying to sort out his feelings, wasn’t he?

When you told yourself a couple of months ago that it would be funny if Eren fell for you and Spider-Girl at the same time, you didn’t think it would come true. Because why would he? Why would he be in love with Spider-Girl? He doesn’t know your true identity. He’s never seen your face, never seen you in other clothes except for this skin-tight spandex you’re wearing. You’re like a comic book character, walking in real life and spouting cliche lines as you save little kids from the street. If what he feels is simply admiration, sure, you can understand that. But that’s not what it is. This is affection. This is infatuation. He’s in love. But how come? All he knows about Spider-Girl is your personality—the true version of you instead of the delicate, feminine young lady you exhibited during the date. He only knows the stories you told about your first kiss and your first biking accident, the fear you faced when you were fighting for your life, or the way you laugh like a child and sit like a man, and—

Oh.

Your heart pulsates harder. Your joy streaks through you like a comet.

“Hey,” Eren calls, tilting his head a little in concern. The sprinkle of rain makes the little baby hairs that fall out of his bun stick to his temple, droplets of water sliding down from his high cheekbone to his chin. “You okay?”

Your thoughts are loud. The voices in your head are screaming one line after another, telling you this is it. This is the real thing. You have no reason to doubt his feelings anymore. Eren loves the real you. Every little part of you. He loves you despite not knowing how you look. He loves you simply because you’re… you.

“I, uh—” Never have you felt so much joy expanding within you before. “Sorry, I have to go.” I can’t talk to you right now. I already feel like I’m going insane just standing right next to you like this.

Because you know if you stay even a minute longer, your mouth will betray you and you will tell him the truth. You will tell him everything: how you’re the same girl he was with an hour ago. That you’re the same kid he was spending his blissful days with when he was a lonely child sitting inside a hospital ward. That you’re the same girl who saved his life and whose heart was saved by him. And that you feel the same way about him, that you fell for him twelve years ago, that you fell for him that night on the rooftop, that you fell for him again just a few hours ago, and how you fall harder for him now. And how much you want to come out clean, take off your mask, and bury your face in his warmth.

I can’t do this. The moment’s not right. I’m just going to freak him out if I do this now.

I need to prepare my words carefully. The last thing I want to do is upset him.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” you say in a hurry. Not giving him a chance to react, you stretch out your arm toward the sky, shoot a rope of web from your wrist, and lift your body off the ground.

“Wait!” He shouts from below, head facing the black clouds as he tries to locate your figure, your body concealed by the night and the fine rain. He’s calling you again and there’s something in his tone, desperate and frantic, that steals your heart and possesses your body to move back into the light. Chewing on your bottom lip, you decide it’s not fair if you just leave him like this. Perhaps it’s okay if I just listen to what he has to say?

With an uncertain heart, you spin a web and reel yourself down to street level, your body descending until you have your face hanging a few inches away from his. You’re clinging upside-down on a rope of web with the balls of your feet locked around the silvery threads.

“What?” You question him, trying to keep yourself reticent even if the words, “Eren, it’s me!” are rising threateningly close to your lips.

You see him drawing a sharp breath. A muscle in his jaw twitches as he clenches his fingers into fists, gathering as much courage as he can.

Okay, what do I say to her? Eren muses, his thoughts running like a bullet train piercing through the wind. Should I just tell her the truth? Say, ‘hey, this might sound weird, but I was on a date today with the girl whom I thought I was in love with but I couldn’t stop thinking about you and now I’m thinking that maybe I like you too—I like you much more than I’m supposed to—and I’m low-key freaking out because I don’t want to be that guy who’s in love with two girls at the same time but I really feel like I am. I’m in love with you.

“Eren,” you urge him gently. “I really have to go…”

Fuck this, he curses inwardly. Just stop thinking for a second. You’re an idiot, thinking wouldn’t do you any good. Just do what your heart tells you to do. Just…

Try.

“Can I…” He wets his bottom lip, his voice quavering. “Can I try something I’ve never done before?”

With your heartbeat blasting in your ears, you feel like all of your senses are screaming at you at once, your blood boiling in anticipation. You can feel it in his voice, the desire and longing he holds for you, the same ones that match the intensity of your own.

Eren removes his hands from crumpling the side of his jeans, shaky fingertips reaching forward to touch you. He stops mid-air when he sees you stiffening. “Do you trust me?” He asks, barely audible.

“I…” Even upside down like this, face glistening with rain, Eren still looks breathtaking. “I do.”

At your permission, he curls his fingers into the seam at your throat, slipping them beneath the fabric to graze the underside of your jaw. You shudder, breathless as soon as you know what’s going to happen. If he takes off your mask, then so be it. You don’t care anymore. You want him to find out.

Slowly, Eren rolls back the fabric of your mask, revealing a portion of your skin and your lips. He stops right after your nose, careful not to go any further.

You have your lips slightly parted, so inviting and smooth, with his name resting heavily on your tongue, itching to be spoken. Both of you are coated by the drizzle that pours over you. “Ren—”

Eren leans in, eyes drooping as he rests his hands on each side of your head, pressing his lips tentatively across yours. It’s a chaste kiss, rain-wet and cool, and you feel your breath strangled in your throat even when his lips only brush lightly. He misses the spot, just by a few millimeters, his body so tense, his lungs forgetting how to breathe for a few seconds.

Eren has always imagined that his first kiss would feel like a dream. Something magical, something that he wants to last forever, something that he’d share with the love of his life at the end of a perfect date. He thought that moment when you bid him good night under the lamppost—that was it. That was the perfect moment to have a perfect kiss, but even if his body wanted it, his heart told him to stay still. His body wanted you, but everything else belonged to Spider-Girl.

You, right now, are the girl who owns his heart. Because kissing under the rain in an abandoned alley with a girl in a superhero costume is the exact opposite of everything he has imagined and yet, this… This right here… This feels right.

This feels like it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

His lips only stay briefly, but even then, you’re having the hardest time opening your eyes. It’s as if you had fallen into a deep sleep and you’re suddenly pulled back into reality. His thumb strokes your cheek, his next words not more than a whisper. “Was that… okay?”

You wet your lip, unintentionally making it harder for him to stay still and listen to your answer before he leans in again. “Kiss me again, Ren,” you murmur, your voice almost drowned by the rain but he can sense the yearning within you and he’s only eager to let you find out how badly he wants you too.

The second kiss has more zeal, lips parted and teeth threatening to clash. Once it gets a bit intense, Eren finds the strength to break away, his mind reminding him to check on your reaction before he goes even further. But neither of you wants this magic to shatter, not yet. He pulls away only to dive back in with more emotions, more honesty in the way he moves his lips. Splaying his fingers to trap your face, he closes the distance with a soft groan erupting right at the second your lips collide once more. He has his eyebrows furrowed as he sets you ablaze with his avidity, applying more pressure to his lips, more yearning, more burning desire. He lacks experience, but he makes it up with his passion. When you gasp slightly in surprise, Eren captures your bottom lip between his. His kiss, though arduous, is also gentle—just like how he is as a person. It’s sweeter than the ones you’ve experienced. Addicting. Intoxicating. And maybe everything feels this way because you have blood pooling in your brain, but you don’t care. Just like him, this moment feels right.

It’s only when you hear the siren of a police car passing down the street that Eren stops, pulling away but remains close enough for you to have his warm breath caressing your skin. “Shouldn’t you go?” He asks, voice sounding hoarse as if he hasn’t spoken in years. But despite his words, he closes his lips around yours again, clamping around your top one this time.

“Yeah,” you breathe out between heavy kisses. “Kiss me again.”

You part your lips wider to welcome him deeper, and you can feel just a little bit of his tongue swiping along the seam of your lips. Your stomach flips, a faint moan escaping you and Eren tastes the rain, tastes the flavor of your chapstick, tastes you.

The siren blares through the night again. “They need you,” he whispers.

You have one hand framing his face, stopping him from ending his kiss. “There are other superheroes in town.”

Eren chuckles, kissing you a couple of times more before he leans back, his teeth catching the corner of his bottom lip, his eyes hazy as he watches the way his thumb glides across your lips. You’re about to close the gap again when he titters. “Baby,” he says, the pet name he gives you sends shivers down your spine. “You should go. We can do this a million times more when the city is safe.”

Your smile is about to break on your lips but you quickly replace it with a pout. “I hate you, Tarantula Boy.”

You pull on your web, your body returning to the air before you swing away and disappear into the night. Eren watches you still, his smile perpetual.

His lips, even if it’s only in a whisper, they form the words he’s been dying to say.

“I’m in love with you, Spider-Girl.”

***

AN: Hey, everyone, thank you for reading another chapter of my spider-girl AU ❤️ I'm so sorry if this is bad writing Ice & Fire gives me zero energy to write eren x reader fics these days 😭 but I hope you still enjoyed it hehe

Tagging:

@l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @didiyogo @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @aengelren @sakurashell @princess-jaeger @resonancesoul @blrqt @cacapeepee @persyhange @jaegersdiary @erentoes @trashygremlin04 @meed18 @j0livi0ni @snowflake-201 @jaymihawk @eva-gates @claudevonstrukesblog @sofijaeger @rinsie @blanccofiie @ereninbunu @natanialora @khinjito @jaegeriess @watermelon-online @tropicsoda @damselofblueroses @alexackrman @bblgumz @jurrasicpork @erenjaegercult @holycandypizza

#eren smut #eren fluff #eren x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager smut #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader fluff #eren x reader smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot smut #aot fluff #snk smut #snk fluff #our little secret canon

785 notes · View notes

softieekayy · 3 years ago

Text

Sweetheart

Duncan Vizla x reader

Word count: 767

Warnings: cigarettes, slightly suggestive, use of the word Daddy,implied impure thoughts

The day outside was sunny and warm, a gentle breeze ruffled your hair from the seat you sat in outside. Duncan took his seat beside you, his hand coming up to rest on the leg that was now thrown over his lap. Summer here at the cabin was always wonderful, the back of it faced the forest that had become your backyard and bunnies and foxes littered your yard at times. Duncan always blamed you for their appearance, muttering something about feeding them too much and survival.

“What are you thinking about sweetheart?” his gruff voice snapped you away from a dream and brought you back into reality.

Your hand brushed up against his cheek “Nothing my love, just thinking about the foxes.” Duncan laughed at your response and his hand continued to massage your leg. You turned to look at him properly and really take in the summer beauty of your man. His salt and pepper hair splayed over his forehead messily and over his eyepatch. His skin had a slight tan from you forcing him out in the sun, claiming that he was starting to look like a ghost.

If Duncan Vizla was Ares then you worshipped his body like a temple. You’re proud to call this old man yours, despite being significantly younger than him, the two of you complimented each other well. You looked at him now, he's pulled out two cigarettes, one for you and another for him. You smiled gratefully before taking the cancer stick he held out for you and sticking it in between your cherry-coloured lips. The sight was a little arousing to Duncan but then again, you’re a little minx he’s glad to have in his life. He leans forward and lights both of the cigarettes.

Your legs are off his lap and are now tucked underneath your thighs, the summer slip dress riding up your thighs slightly. The two of you sit there for a while, sharing no words except the comfort of the silence between you two.

‘Sweetheart?”

“Yeah, Daddy?”

The word makes blood rush into his head and Duncan feels like he is on a euphoric high. The way you say it, all sugar-coated and spilling like warm honey from your mouth. Duncan’s brain short circuits and he forgets what he was going to say to you. You keep looking at him expectantly, wide doe eyes staring into his own.

“Dinner. Baby. Let’s go get dinner at the diner in town and you can pick out something to do afterwards.” Duncan spoke after he finally managed to gather his thoughts, most of them consisting of you. You didn’t say anything except a nod and moved to get up from the chair and stretch. His trained eye kept watching you and Duncan wondered how he landed up with such a ball of sunshine in his life.

You watched your old man watch you before you tugged him up and out of his chair. Duncan took your outstretched hand before he stretched too. He also took the cigarette that dangled from your lips and snubbed it out. Duncan worried about you sometimes, sometimes you smoked too many cigarettes and drank too much but that was understandable. You taught at the local high school and he taught at the elementary one. Everyone knew that you two were married, just not on paper.

Duncan followed you in and watched you grab your jacket and his, handing it to him before tugging yours on.

“C’mon daddy, let’s go.” A small whine left your lips and Duncan thought you looked fucking adorable.

He smiled, “Let’s go, baby.” His voice was sweet and Duncan could only revel in the bright smile you provided in return. He could only think one thing and that was how on earth did you get involved with him. A man whose hands have sinned for both your lives. In a way, you were his saving grace, his salvation. You washed him of his old sins and now the only thing he did was worship your body like a temple. If Duncan Vizla was a man, then you were a goddess who granted him salvation. You were his sweetheart and his baby. Loving you meant loving the teasing you did.

You were caught off guard when Duncan pulled you into him and pressed a bruising kiss to your lips.

“I love you, sweetheart.” his forehead rested against yours.

“I love you too, old man.” Duncan simply chuckled at your response before swatting your butt and directing you into his truck.

#duncan vizla #Duncan vizla x reader #Duncan vizla x reader fluff #Duncan vizla fluff imagine #polar 2019 #Mads Mikkelsen #slight duncan vizla x reader smut

738 notes · View notes

mrs-veilmont · 3 years ago

Text

Here is my story about Candy&Castiel's baby Shanton!♡☆

The meaning of Shanton is “We sing" and it was Candy's idea, Castiel was thinking about cool name for his baby -he spent so many hour on it- and he accepted directly the moment he heards this name and the meaning from love of his life.

Singing songs... They had so many memories with singing songs. Shanton was perfect name.

Shanton is an adorable baby who likes listening her parent's songs so much. She even wants listen to a special song when she is feeling not well.

She just can't fall asleep if her daddy couldn't sing a lullaby -or 'lullababy' in her words- at the night hour.

Everbody adores her.

She is so cute,sensitive and she likes cuddles especially from his dad but this rebellious little girl doesn' t want to admit it.

Sometimes she just wants to be independent and she is going discovery tour in her house's backyard.

She likes flowers.

Castiel loves fact that she looks like her mother: Purple eyes and red hair. Even if she thought she has red hair because her cool daddy has red hair too.

She loves dogs, especially Pancake.

But sometimes she wants to see White and her uncle Nath. Of course Castiel doesn't like that idea too much but... He has trouble saying no to her.

Her bestfriend is obviously Thia. Thia always teach her new games, sometimes she is treating her just like her big sister.

Her favorite toy is pink bunny from uncle Alexy. She likes hugging her teddy bear, of course it was uncle Kentin's gift to her.

Sorry for my English grammar, I wanted to share what I dreamed for "happily ever after" event💜 Thanks for doing this event!!🌸

#otomehavenhappilyeverafterevent #my candy love #mcl castiel #mcl candy #my candy love headcanons #mcl headcanon #mcl picrew #say hello to shanton their cutie daughter #shanton #picrew

59 notes · View notes

sadie-goode-misk · 2 years ago

Text

Had a nightmare last night. I used to get them all the time, but I don't think I've had one in years.

I was playing in the backyard with a baby bunny and all of a sudden it keeled over sideways and I knew I was in trouble. I didn't do anything to it, but mom wouldn't believe me, and she'd start yelling and it'd be such a pain in the ass.

I was getting all worked up and I had my head in my hands and when I looked down again, the bunny was standing up and shaking itself off and hopping away. I let it go, just watching for a second, and that's when the monsters showed up.

They swarmed around the house and through the fields (it was soybeans that year, and much shorter than corn--about chest high on an eight-year-old) with two loud cracks. They walked upright, but had matte black skin that absorbed light and two giant eyes and a mosquito-like mouth, except blunter and shorter. They shouted to each other but somehow I couldn't understand what they were saying. One of them pulled out this lightning stick and brought it over (I was frozen to the spot) and poked me with it in the shoulder. I yelled in pain and then because my shoulder was numb and that whole arm wasn't responding and I tried to stand to run but my legs were jelly and two more brought this dog crate and I was yelling for mom and dad but somehow I knew they had been shot and couldn't help anymore and they were going to take me away and pin me to a table like a moth and they'd take me deep underground and I'd never see the sun again.

I woke up when they closed the door of the dog crate. I was crying. I hope I never have that dream again.

#dreams #arc 1

2 notes · View notes

mshomestyle · 4 years ago

Note

Hello, can i request a headcanon or drabble about hawks and his s/o, a fluffy one please. The s/o loves halloween and want to plan an alice in wonderland party for this year. But one time hawks wake up into the wonderland and he was chasing his s/o and met familiar faces. Is it a dream or not?

TBH, it’s been ages since I’ve seen Alice in Wonderland, so I hope I do this right!

Hawks x Reader: Hawks having an Alice in Wonderland dream [Head Canons]:

-You’re in your element

-Or at least that’s how Keigo would describe it.

-As you walk around the party supply store, piling up Halloween decorations into the shopping cart that Keigo is pushing for you, your significant other can’t help but to admire the look in your eyes.

-“I can’t wait for the party!” You gush happily as you throw in these oddly huge fake flowers into the shopping cart. Keigo can’t help but to think that he’s going to need to get another basket soon, “Alice in Wonderland is such a great theme for it, too!”

-“You’re really outdoing yourself, babe,” Keigo compliments. Honestly, he didn’t care if you decorated with garbage bags, he’s just enjoying how cute you’re being about this.

-“Well, with your help, of course I am~.” You lean over and kiss his lips before continuing on with your shopping.

-Once you make it home, it only takes one trip for you to get all of the decorations into your shared apartment being as Keigo uses his wings to help carry them all.

-The party is the day after the next, so once the current day is over with, you both work hard to get all of the decorations up.

-You had bought a lot of stuff, so it’s taking much more time than you or Keigo had expected.

-“I feel like I’m failing as a hero, because I really can’t believe that decorating of all things is starting to tire me out,” Keigo says. You can’t help but to giggle at that.

-“Don’t worry, you’re doing a good job,” you point out, currently standing on a tall stool as you hang up some of the big flowers.

-“And you better be safe,” Keigo says as his eyes go over to look at you, “I think we’re going to need some more tape. I’ll go check to see if we have any more.” And with that, Keigo starts to look all over trying to find out where your spare tape would be. He then goes into your bedroom, remembering that last night you took some bags into there, wanting to start on the party favors.

-Once Keigo spots the extra tape, he also notices how warm and inviting the bed looks. Would it be wrong of him to take a nap now? He wouldn’t be much use to you if he became even more tired, so following that line of logic, he can’t help but to get in bed and fall asleep.

-“Keigo….Keigo!”

-At the sound of his name being called, Keigo wakes up, and when he does, the first thing he notices is that he is no longer in your shared bedroom, but rather in a completely different place. This place looks oddly similar to something straight out of Alice in Wonderland. At first, Keigo wonders if he’s in the living room, but this place didn’t look like that at all…

-It was the inside of a house no doubt, but for some strange reason the furniture looks rather large.

-“Keigo, we’re going to be late!” At the sound of the voice, Keigo looks around until he spots you standing over him and wearing a rather lovely looking bunny costume that he found to suit you nicely~.

-“Babe, we-Hey, wait!” Before he can finish his sentence, you take off, somehow seeming to move incredibly fast. Since Keigo was usually spoke of as ‘the man who was too fast for his own good’, this definitely shocks him. What is going on?

-Keigo decides to chase after you, but once he gets to the door, he notices that the door knob is way out of reach. Seriously, where is he?

-Looking around he notices two bottles on the table filled with liquid and once he sees that he can’t help but to say, “No way.” If this is just like how it was in the story, then Keigo knew that one of those drinks would make him the right size.

-And after some trial and error, he figures it out and manages to leave the house in order to look for you. “Where did she go?” he questions out loud to himself as he continues on the path before him and ignoring the rather large flowers that are all around him.

-As he progresses he comes across a fork in the road with two signs on one post. Now this was getting trickier as Keigo cannot remember which way Alice went in the story. “Need some help?”

-Keigo looks around for a body that belongs to the voice and looking up at a tree he notices a pair of eyes that soon faded into a very familiar person, “Mirko!” he says, and upon further inspection he can’t help but to say, “Wh…Why are you a cat?” Her usual bunny ears and tail was replaced with cat ears and tails.

-The cat Mirko was able to provide Keigo with some direction and he travels forward until he comes across what looks like a fenced in backyard.

-It had to have been the Mad Hatter’s tea party, and with that in mind Keigo cannot help but to think that this can only get weirder and weirder.

-Walking through the fence, Keigo notices a large dining table outside and looked around at the people sitting there, he can’t help but to call out to them, “All Might?...Endeavor?...Best Jeanist?” And why is Best Jeanist wearing mice ears?

-“Unbirthdays do not exist!” Endeavor bangs at the table with one of his fists before pointing at All Might, who is dressed like the Mad Hatter, in an accusatory fashion. “Stop this nonsense!”

-“I don’t make the rules!” All Might spoke with his hands up in defense.

-Keigo felt as if he had enough at this point. Where are you? And why did you drag him here of all places? And where even is here?

-“Keigo!” Ah, there was your voice again!....But where were you? “Keigo!”

-With a jolt, Keigo woke up and notices you, once again, standing over him. Though upon looking around, he sees that he is in your bedroom. “Come on, babe, you can’t leave all of the work to me,” you pout.

-“Oh, sorry, baby. I was just…having a pretty weird dream,” he admits. Perhaps, he can take the main idea that he learned from that dream and use it.

-“Well, hurry up. We’ll be up late decorating at night if we stall too much,” you whine before you leave the room, and as Keigo watches you, he can’t help but want to apply what he learned now. So, he stands up and follows you, saying,

-“Hey, [Name], we should get you a skimpy bunny costume.”

#hawks #hawks x reader #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #mha keigo takami #keigo x reader #reader #reader insert #my hero academia #my hero x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero x reader #my hero headcanons #Headcanon #head cannons #headcanons

96 notes · View notes

blackdragons-cb · 4 years ago

Text

Hongjoong's words to his family

Can i just take the time to appreciate my family? You all make me happy and without each and every one of you, i would never be who i am today. Within the centuries i have lived, i never really knew what it was like to have a family of my own. But now that i have you guys, it's like a dream came true.

Kun: you are one of the oldest if not the oldest, yet you are the most sweetest boy in the entire world. I just really hope you don't get hurt making anymore crowns.

Doyoung:you are new to the family and i hope your brothers accepted you with open arms.you are sweet child that deserve all the love that you desire. I hope one day that you will find someone to give you the amount of love that i will give you

Winwin:my sweet and innocent babie. I hope you know that when i first saw you, i just had to adopt you. Who wouldn't want to adopt an adorable child that gives one of the best hugs in the world. Keep that innocence of yours because the world is a cruel place and i don't want to see you corrupted by it

Jungwoo:Another new child to the family. However when you asked for you and Doyoung to share a room, i just knew that you two would make it together. You're a sweet child Jungwoo, and just like Winwin don't let the world corrupt you

Hendery:Oh hendery,my sweet and creative Hendery. You are just such a big ball of fluff, i get soft everytime i hear you call me papa. Even though i was kinda disappointed to hear about the twigs in the backyard, i was also happy to see you play in the secret room. You have a spark in your eye that makes you special,never lose it. For your future will be special and you will make me the proudest papa in the world

Last but not least my first child, Jeno. You have grown a lot. You have a boyfriend who i hope truly loves you and you have already had your first kiss. I was shook when i first heard about it and was trying my hardest to get peter pan to take you to neverland. But when i sat down and thought about it, i was just really afraid that you would talk to me less or want to be with your boyfriend more than me...but you proved me wrong. You would be the first one to talk to me and it would bring a smile on my face. Nono i hope you know that without you, i would've never became a father of 6(including you)

To hyungwon my love,the fact that you haven't murdered me yet for adopting so many kids still amazes me. I remember meeting you for the first time. That sassy attitude,the way you would look at me while questioning how in the world did you end up here. Later on in life we lost Youngmin but that made us closer than ever. I still laugh at when you thought Felix really killed me sometimes but it warms my heart knowing that you would hurt anyone that hurted me. Truly i don't deserve you or my children. I have done terrible things in my past centuries but this life that im living right now, is making up for those things. So to start off and make this family our official thing, Chae Hyungwon will you make me the happiest man in the entire world and marry me?

💜💚: @k-pop-cafe

👦: @hybrid-ateez-straykids-nct

Tags: @yanlee (og) @hybrid-kpop-cb @ares-bc @badass-girlz @bloodlustbots @babyhj1sung @bunny-woong @catwoman-lisa @cb-museclub @daenerysolar @darkfaeskz @demon-nct @urhexgirls @snow-siblings @hybridxgirls @heathenxbots @hellbound-cb @hereticsoojin @hernameisangel-oc @hunter-chaeyoung @idol-academy @incubusseungwoo @storybook-nct @kaanghana @skz-cb @killerbots @lilith-doyeon @mafia-chae @moonlightchn @your-yanderes @mutantsbot @originalscb @powerpuff-3ye-cb @punchline-yuju @got7sinsbot @ateez-treasure9au-chatbot @collegebf-exo @e-bots @xxmarkleex @oc-twins-cb @domyukhei @subby-superm @uridealbf-cb @uridealgf-cb @iceskater-sana

#hongjoong slices

16 notes · View notes

baby-grayson · 4 years ago

Text

Sweet Engima

Words: 5.3k Tags: @wheezeatmedolans @styles-dolan @prettyboydolan @evergreendolan @baby-turtles @dolanstacoma @kombuchagray @not-gbd @graysavant @someonetogray @dolansficsandpics @batgirl009 @voguekristens @letsgoget-high @crossedbone-kat @graysonsdollface

tw: hospitals, injuries, anxiety, police, mental health, bullying, alike topics

“It’s been paid for,” the airport garage attendant said, “By a Mr. Dolan.” Kate stood in front of a plump man, wearing the frizzy hair and red eyes that come with a cross country flight. “Oh,” she stuttered, “So I can just go—go to my car?” When the man nodded, Kate picked up her backpacks from the floor of the airport garage and walked aimlessly, trying to find a clue in her memory as to where she and Grayson had left her car.

Being back in California felt surreal. When she made it to her car, throwing her bags in the trunk and sitting in the driver’s seat. She took, what felt like, her first breath in weeks. She looked to the passenger’s side, seeing the image of the 200-lb heartthrob that once sat next to her. She felt older: aged by the stress, inconsistency, and weight of what she would claim was the past few weeks, but deep down she knew it was the gravity of the past year.

Arriving at the apartment, she felt half asleep as she slugged herself up the steps and to her front door. She stopped, staring at her front door. It was ajar and not locked. She asked herself if she forgot to lock it but then remembered that it was actually Wesley who was last here. She rolled her eyes and made a mental note to give him his stuff back when she wrapped her fingers around the doorknob and pushed it open.

She stood in the door frame, wide eyed and dry mouthed.

It was a wreck.

Her entire place was a wreck.

Her Ikea couches had been shredded, bits of cushion and fluff spilling out onto her rug that also wore broken shards of her coffee table. Her wall of pictures was covered in shreds, while confetti ,made from the faces of her loved ones, decorated the floor. Her kitchen cabinets were open, spilling over with things. Her house plants had been broken and dirt stained the floor of her apartment. She froze, not knowing how to move. She slumped one backpack down, hearing it hit the floor. She licked her top lip, trying to wet her heavy mouth. Her bottom jaw clattered as she took a step forward, her eyes still struggling to fully draw in the details of the moment.

She stepped over the threshold and noticed them. A thousand little notes written on posts its, receipts, the edges of notebook paper, newspapers, and napkins. She saw the first one and drew back. She swung her head around and read a second, hissing in a breath. Her breath turned shaky as her eyes darted between them: not feeling safe in her own home.

Slut.

Whore.

Homewrecker.

Fat Hoe.

Big nosed side hoe.

Clout Chaser.

He was Sherry’s.

He was going to be married.

Snake.

Cripple.

She took a step, nearly falling over on a large piece of a broken shoe stand. In a swift motion, she lunged herself over the threshold and slammed the door behind her. She fell against the wall next to her door. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and debated who to call first: Grayson or the police.

Grayson got there a few minutes after the first officer. When he parked his Tesla, Kate was slumped against the front door to her building looking up at the officer with a note pad, her back packs were thrown against the asphalt. Her eyes were puffy and red as she wiped a hand across her face and up through her hair. Grayson remained seated in the car, feeling helpless until another cop car pulled up. He waited until the officer by Kate walked away to greet the other car before climbing out of the Tesla and heading over to her.

She held her hands on her elbows while she leaned against the door, shaking slightly. She looked up at him through heavy lashes. Her words got stuck when they caught in her throat. She was ripped at every edge, scared small and quivering, but she was a masterpiece, her golden flecks shining in a thin layer of wet with her lips red from biting them and her petite frame accentuated in her slump.

Grayson lost all words. He wrapped both arms around her in a warm, snug embrace. He brought her head into his shoulder and gently placed a loving hand on the back of her hair. He felt a few tears soak into the sleeve of his shirt. He kissed the top of her head and mumbled, “bunny…”

When Kate looked up from her place on his shoulder, Grayson’s face was turned down. He had no words to give her, no advice to share, and no action to take. Instead, he settled on pulling her tighter and not leaving her side for the next two hours: while police officers came and went, taking shards of pots, broken plates, and notes away in sealable bags.

While she retold her story again and again and stuttered through the list of people who might do such a thing, all of which fueled by the latest development of Grayson in her life, Grayson never left her side. He held her close in their private moments, as if cuddling her head into his chest would protect her beautiful mind from the toxic chaos of the moment; when he couldn’t manage that, he reached down and took her delicate hand in his large one, squeezing it occasionally. Was it so she could feel his presence, or he could feel hers? He felt like crying, his eyes ached with soreness from holding back tears of anger. He shook, physically tremoring with the knowledge that he might have influenced someone to do such a wretched thing to his angel: one of the only good things about his life.

Grayson’s psyche was scarred with the paranoia of his stalker episode a few years prior: not even the skillful approach of an expert therapist could not permanently remove the edge he felt when it came to the public. Sometimes at night, he would lay awake and replay that night: being in the backyard with Ethan and Cameron. Ethan’s face dropping at the sight of a body in their kitchen, a body that wasn’t Ryan or Kristina or Kyle; Cameron’s assertive resolve as she marched out of the pool and nearly broke the sliding door when she stomped into the kitchen; the echo of her voice as she demanded people; the image of Ethan calling the police next to him.

Some memories aren’t memories: their primordial haunts that only exist to remind us that we are human.

But Kate was more than a human to him. To Grayson, Kate was angelic, representing something happy and right in his ever so mixed up world. He dreamed of the day he could take her away from this place: not just that scene, but all the worst parts of his life, and make a life with her. Grayson had longed believed there was someone, or something, watching out for him, he was far too stupid to have made it this far on luck, and he was convinced, feeling it deep in his bones, that celestial being handpicked Kate to remind Grayson of the best things in life.

When Kate looked up at him from her place in his chest, while the last of the squad cars rolled away, her voice choked on her words “What am I supposed to do?”

Grayson’s bones shook. His brain felt so saturated with dark clouds, it pressed against his skull and panged in his head. His heart wanted to rip through his chest, searching for air in a breathless fog. He gritted his jaw, on the verge of his own breakdown he tightened his arms around her, causing her lips to curl from where he pressed her against his chest.

Thank God his Tesla could drive itself: Grayson could barely keep his foot on the gas pedal as his body shook. Despite his best efforts, tears started to roll down his face. Kate pulled her sweatshirt around her body, comforted by the warm feeling of being engulfed in something.

Kate silently made a quick run to the shower when the Tesla parked at Grayson’s house. She made quick work of tearing off her clothes, turning on the jets, and sitting on his bench as the water rolled off her skin: praying that the water could wash her inside of the memories of that afternoon.

Grayson’s face was red and puffy. His knuckles were white as he grabbed a bottle of water from the counter. He held it above his head and chugged, droplets spilling off the corners of his mouth. He crushed it in his fist and forcibly threw it into the trashcan. A concerned Ethan tentatively stepped out of his room and lingered in the kitchen doorway. Grayson hadn’t told him he left; Ethan only noticed Gray’s Tesla gone from the driveway. If it wasn’t for the thud of the water bottle in the trashcan, Ethan wouldn’t have known Grayson was home.

“What’s going on?” Ethan’s voice was shaky as his looked down at his brother’s feet and then back up. Grayson reminded Ethan of the last time he saw his favorite childhood teddy bear. The teddy bear was covered in stains of dirt, food, and bodily fluids from traveling everywhere with Ethan. Besides Gray, that teddy was a young Ethan’s best friend. The last time Ethan saw teddy was when their father carried its remains into a shoebox after accidentally running over it in the driveway, where Ethan had left it one afternoon when it started raining. The teddy that was once shiny, cuddly, and soft was crushed to the point of bare threads, overflowing stuffing, and rocks embedded in its surface: that was what Grayson looked like to Ethan in that moment.

Grayson nearly tore the refrigerator door off of its hinges, searching for something to pile into his mouth, “Someone got into her place,” he went to open a drawer but instead took it off of its tracks. He grunted, nearly growling at the plastic bin and trying to shove it back into its place in the fridge, “They broke—they ransacked the fucking place Ethan—not even her house—notes” He slammed the door shut and put his hands on his hips, his bottom lip curled into his mouth as he stared at the refrigerator drawer that was passively sitting on the kitchen counter. His eyes stalked up to meet Ethan’s, “You want to know what they were fucking saying about her?”

Ethan didn’t need to ask who the “her” was in the situation. He put a familiar hand on Grayson’s back, feeling his relax every so slightly at his touch. Ethan sucked in a breath and played with his mouth. Grayson sighed, putting his hands on the counter and bending forward for support. “We’re gonna get through this man,” Ethan mumbled, “like we always do.”

“I don’t know how man,” Grayson raised his thumbs from where they held the edge of the counter, “You weren’t there—you didn’t see—”

“Gray,” Ethan’s tone was paternal, “there is no other choice, this is gonna work out. But it’s not gonna work itself out by you standing here and assaulting our kitchen.”

Grayson stood up, pushing Ethan back as he let go of the counter, “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Go to her,” Ethan raised his voice slightly, he gestured an arm outward in the direction of Grayson’s bedroom, “Be there for her.”

Grayson stalked into his bedroom and sat on the edge of his bed. He heard the drum of the shower hitting the tile in his bathroom, deciding now was not the time to replay their rendezvous from a few weeks ago. He fell back, his comforter fluffing up around his head. His spine decompressed but his soul remained tense.

He picked his head up when the door to his bathroom opened to reveal Kate’s figure surrounded in a ginormous fluffy towel, as some steam filtered in behind her. Grayson sat up as she moved to sit on his lap, adjusting her towel around her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he brought her closer to him. She thumbed his shoulder, her hair dripping water in his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice was low and heavy with regret.

She didn’t meet his eyes. “You didn’t do anything Grayson.” “Yes, I did,” he sighed, “I did so much.” He winced, as if he was in pain, “I should have never—I should have never done it like this.” He bit his lip, “If I was unhappy—I should’ve—I should’ve—dealt with my relationship first and found you second. I fucked it up. I fucked it all up and now I—” “Shh,” she was calm, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Yeah,” she talked with her lips millimeters away from his skin, “You could have done a lot better. But there’s no changing the past, only doing better tomorrow.”

She pulled back, meeting his eyes now, “And Grayson—don’t apologize for—that, back there. That wasn’t you, you didn’t—you didn’t do that.” Her fingers interlocked with his, she squeezed his hand, “Once upon a time, you gave me this big apology about how you didn’t handle bringing me into your life correctly. Well-“ she sighed, “I wasn’t perfect back then either.” She flicked her teeth against her bottom lip, “I had a problem—separating you from, from your fans. But I get it now, at least I think I get it better, what I’m trying to say is,” she took a breath, “You didn’t do that to my apartment, you didn’t cause that. If someone was—if someone was that unstable and that irrational—they would have done that, whether to me, or to someone else. Am I explaining myself right here? I just—You didn’t do that to me, but you can—you can help me heal from it.” For nearly the hundredth time that afternoon, she pressed her head to his shoulder, her hair soaked a circle into his shirt.

Grayson took in a deep breath, trying to let Kate’s words absolve his guilt but feeling worse when no internal resolution came. “I just—” he wanted to say he loved her, he wanted desperately to say he loved her but everything about the moment betrayed him, “I—I want you back in my life, you are back in my life, and I want to do everything I can to keep you safe, to see you happy.” Kate lifted her head from his shoulder to meet his eyes. He found serenity in her features, in seeing those big brown eyes look up at him. Grayson thumbed her skin, feeling it soft and supple under his torn-up thumb. Her words penetrated his heart, “You do make me happy.”

Grayson’s features melted into a sad image of relief, “I do? Do I really?” His lion heart gave way to a series of insecurities and inner turmoil.

Kate nodded softly, she squeezed his hand and brought it up, between their chests, “You do make me happy. And I want to—I want you to keep making me happy. I want this,” she squeezed his hand again, “To be normal. I want us to—to---to---to go on dates and to watch movies and to—to be normal. Because I think that you and I can be something, something real. But you can’t expect this to be perfect until its balanced.” “Balanced,” Grayson repeated the word: one of the only things’ money couldn’t buy him. He sighed. “Yeah, balance,” Kate kissed his cheek, “It’ll come with time, once our lives get settled,” she squeezed his hand, “once we get settled together.”

“Are you saying that you’re giving me a chance? Because I swear, if you are,” Grayson’s eyes turned down at the corners, “I won’t screw it up, I promise. You’re too good for me as it is, and if normal is what you want, normal is what you get. I’ll give you the best normal that anyone ever knew. I want you to be happy, I want to give you everything I absolutely can because after everything I’ve brought into your life, I feel like I’ll never stop saying I’m sorry.” He bit his tongue from exposing his feelings once again.

Kate shook her head, “Don’t ever say you’re sorry. At least, not to me for what you did.” She sighed and eyed the way he slouched and the wrinkled forming in the corners of his eyes, “If you didn’t do what you did,” she shrugged, “Maybe we never would have met again. So maybe we’re the silver lining in…everything.”

***

The night and next day floated by with Kate on the phone with the LA County Sheriff’s Department, her grandmother, and her boss and the twins running around in preparation for their bathbomb launch, despite the chatter on twitter than the launch was perfectly timed amid Grayson’s scandal. Grayson stopped at Monty’s to pick up burgers and shakes for Kate, driving home in the middle of the day for lunch. If it was anyone else, he would have been grossed out, but he thought the way she dipped her fries into her vanilla shake was adorable.

“How’s work going?” she licked the shake off the side of a fry before using a finger to push it in her mouth.

Grayson shrugged while chewing a bite of his vegan burger, “It’s hectic. Everything is ready for the sale, but last-minute details about the boat.” “The boat?” Kate sucked on her shake through a straw, her lips puckering around the edge of the tube. Grayson shifted his gaze away from her mouth and wiggled in his seat, “The launch party, remember I told you about how Kevin wanted to do a little celebration with us and the team? Some good promo but also a team dinner?” Kate shook her head, “You never told me about that.” She knitted her brow, “How long have you been working on that?” “Like six months, you sure I never told you?”

Kate shrugged, “Maybe we were too busy nearly committing bigamy.”

Grayson chortled so loud he spit out a piece of his vegan burger, he coughed and brought a napkin to his mouth. He wagged a finger in her direction, “That was—that was funny.” Kate responded with a proud smile.

Grayson used a napkin to wipe food from his chest, “Well I put you on the guest list, kinda assumed you’d be my plus one,” he took a sip, “You know, my little arm candy.” His wink elicited a giggle from Kate.

“Me? A party?” She placed the sandwich down on the counter. “I’m a socially awkward little nerd.”

“You’re my socially awkward little nerd.” Grayson leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek, smiling onto her skin.

Kate shook her head, “What am I supposed to wear?” Her tone was slightly incredulous: parties, truly, were never her scene. Something about large groups of people intimidated her, there was something so anonymous and nothing intimate about large gatherings. Grayson swallowed a bite of sandwich, “Something pretty, whatever you have is fine I’m sure.” He washed it down with more shake, “You’re always beautiful anyway,” he leaned across to kiss her cheek again. “Hey,” her tone held warning, “You’re not allowed to do that all the time,” she held out a finger and Grayson gave her a cheeky grin. “Besides,” she continued, “I don’t have anything to wear. Grayson, I’ve been living off the same three pairs of pants and two sweatshirts since we left for Jersey.”

“I can have something delivered, “Grayson wiped his face with a napkin, “I’ll order something.”

Parties made Kate uncomfortable. She was further reminded by this fact when made it to the boat in the LA harbor. Grayson’s assistant had driven her because the twins were bouncing across sides of the boat, trying to get everything ready to set sail. She smoothed out the edges of her black dress, that clung a little tighter than she would like—probably chosen purposely on Grayson’s part—and tentatively walked into the main room.

Everyone was in heels, even some of the men. Big heels. Chunky heels. Tall heels. Wide heels. Kate sighed and brought her toes together in her ballet flats. Her condition made walking in flats hard. To her, heels were an obtainable elegance. A signal that she was not physically built for the world she was about to enter with Grayson.

She found a chair at the side of the room and sat quietly, eyeing different faces she didn’t recognize. Something paranoid buzzed inside of her, when she began to wonder if the polite chatter people were whispering around her was about her and Grayson. She swallowed hard and sat back in her seat.

The boat lurched as it left the harbor, bobbing everyone with it. A catering team put out finger foods as the night was ready to begin. Kate stayed in her seat, searching faces in the archways for signs of Grayson.

On the other end of the boat, Ethan was turning a corner as they set sail. He rocked, “woah,” and held out a hand to steady himself. “I’m so sorry,” he looked up at the person his hand landed on, “Sherry?” Ethan’s mouth hung open. In front of him was none other than Sherry Maddox: dressed in a form fitting teal number with shiny, dangling earrings, and strappy blue shoes. Her blonde hair wore a perfect, effortless blow out. He searched her up and down, as if she was going to phase into the ocean mist around him. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” her words were sure. She blinked her eyes quickly, her fake lashes dancing like feathers. Ethan looked around, wondering if he was so stressed that he was seeing things. In the frenzy of the past few weeks, no one thought to disinvite Sherry from the night. Ethan stammered for words, “Oh”

Sherry gave him a sickeningly sweet smile, “Good to see you again Ethan.” As if on cue, Sherry stepped away from their exchange at the exact moment Ethan’s assistant called out to him to come to the main room. Ethan shuffled away, dizzied from what just happened.

He landed in a seat next to his brother, who sat next to Kate at their table. Kate went pale and dry to see Sherry slink against the back wall of the room. Until that moment, Sherry was nothing but a face in the tabloids to Kate. Seeing her in person, sent knots into her stomach and soul. Kate’s bottom jaw stammered as a chill went through her spine. “What’s wrong?” Grayson knitted his brow together when he saw the color leave her face. When Kate didn’t answer, he followed her gaze to the other side of the room and immediately shot out with, “What’s she doing there?” From next to him, Ethan piped up, “We never took her off the list.” His voice was grim, “Don’t worry about it Gray, she probably just wants to be photographed her peacock costume,” Kate chuckled at his last remark.

At exactly 9PM, Ethan stood up, taking to the front of the room to grab a microphone, “Hello? Is this on? Hello! I just wanted to thank everyone for coming, and for everything you do for our team. I couldn’t ask for better—” he continued his speech thanking his team. From across the room, his assistant snapped pictures of him at the microphone.

While Ethan talked, Grayson shifted in his seat, trying to find some level of comfort with Sherry in the room. He looked at Kate, “You look beautiful.” He placed his hand in her lap to hold her delicate fingers. She smiled up at him, “Thanks.” He leaned over to kiss the top of her head, “There is no one else I’d rather have next to me.” She smiled brightly under his lips. She moved to say something but was interrupted by Grayson standing up to switch places with Ethan at the microphone. As Ethan sat down, Kate leaned, “you think I can go,” she pointed to the back of the room, “back there to take some pictures of him.” Ethan gave her a sure nod.

Grayson started his remarks while Kate quickly floated to the back of the room to start snapping proud pictures of him. His voice filled the room, “And I think the choices we made to include in this launch are special, they mean something to all of us,” he listed their scents, “Compassion, Creativity, Energy, Family, and Love. Funny thing about Love, I designed it after someone who means so much to me, I wanted it to always remind me of the person who taught me what love is. Because before her, I met a lot of girls and I thought I was ready to be serious about them: but she taught me what it’s like to know someone belongs in your life and put the energy into making them the center of your life. Kathleen Walker, I don’t know what I would do with you.”

Tears welled up in Kate’s eyes, who had given up on taking blurry pictures and resolved on taking a video. As unperfect as Grayson and her were, there was something between them that only the lucky ones get to feel.

Grayson continued his speech, moving to thank every member of their team individually.

From Ethan’s seat, he looked for Kate in the crowd but couldn’t find her. An instinct ringing inside of him, he quietly stood up from his seat and sauntered to the back of the room.

At the edge of the boat, a loud foghorn sounded as the bow cut through ocean waves like butter. Kate struggled, screaming and questioning and crying out. But Sherry Maddox was white with anger. As if being publicly embarrassed by the love of her life wasn’t enough, she was forced to sit and listen to her ex-fiancé flaunt the fact that his “love” product was formulated in the image of another woman.

Kate didn’t feel Sherry push her.

She didn’t feel her feet leave the ground.

She screamed into the night until her scream was muffled by the splash of her body hitting the water.

Her black dress floated around her, blending her in the nighttime water. She was never a very strong swimmer: but what she could do was reduced to nearly nothing after the accident. Despite her best pushes, she could barely keep her head above water.

She was started to lose consciousness as she bobbed, a victim of the rough waves.

Ethan didn’t understand what he saw. He didn’t have time to process what he saw. He threw off his jacket and shoes and swan dived down into the water. With his pants and shirt soaked, he pulled Kate’s limp body toward him and, with the help of a deckhand, pulled himself back onto the boat.

As soon as the pair were back on a solid surface, the deckhand and Ethan’s assistant were surrounding them with towels and blankets. Their lips turned purple as they shivered, two wet trembling bodies in the night. On the other side of the deck, a radio rang out that the boat was returning to harbor for an emergency.

It was Grayson who insisted Kate be brought to the emergency room. He angrily rambled about her swallowing water or getting hypothermia. If it wasn’t for her exhaustion, she could have calmed him, but instead she laid as a limp body on a triage table with Grayson sitting in the corner of the room.

Kate was still wearing her soaking wet dress; her flats had been lost to the Pacific Ocean. Her hair had been messily pinned up by a borrowed clip from Grayson’s assistant. On the boat, Grayson gave her his suit jacket to help with the shivering. She gave blood, peed in a cup, and took a concussion test upon arriving at the hospital.

“Hi Miss Walker,” a peppy nurse stepped through the door, “I’m Tammy. I’m a nurse here.” She shot Kate a warm smile, “I’m just going to ask you a few questions and then check you out and hopefully we can send you right home.”

Kate nodded weakly in response, having met no less than four other Tammy’s that night.

Tammy perched on a stool with wheels and opened a folder. “Any chance you could be pregnant?”

“No.”

“Any family history of cancer?”

“Yes- my mother.”

“Any issues breathing-shortness of breath?”

“No.”

“Have you been out of the country recently?”

“No.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’m just going to take your blood pressure and then check your throat, just in case you swallowed any water, and you two should be good to go.”

Tammy was almost too happy to Velcro a blood pressure cuff around Kate’s arm and pump the balloon. Kate leaned against the wall and stared at Grayson, who had bags forming under his eyes. Neither of them said it, but they both longed for the warm, comfortable, familiar cuddle of Grayson’s bed.

“Say ahh,” Kate opened her mouth for Tammy to put her tongue compression in and shine a light in the back of her throat, “Good news, doesn’t seem to be any salt damage.” Tammy removed the compressor and went to write in her chart, “But I would still recommend some tea with honey, just in case you get uncomfortable.” Tammy closed the manilla folder, “Alright folks, I’ll check with the doctor on your other tests Ms. Walker but I think you should be good to go.” “We can leave?” Grayson didn’t mean to sound brusque or rude, but he was too tired, angry, and anxious to try and be polite.

“Let me check with Dr. Ocasio and I’ll be right back to let you know,” Tammy shot Grayson a customer-service smile before shutting the door behind them.

The fluorescent lights flickered as an LA siren sounded in the distance. Grayson’s heart broke to look at her like that: wet, sad, and hurt. Everything in him wanted to do something but found no action. He wondered if the best thing for Kate, was for him to leave her life—to leave her in peace. He shook that thought away, telling himself he was just tired, before closing his eyes and thinking about holding her in his bed later that night.

Before the thought could sweetly settle in his mind, Tammy popped her head in the door, “Oh-uh—Mr.Dolan, could you come with me for a moment? There is some—uh—paperwork, that you need to sign as her attendant.”

Grayson reluctantly stood up and followed Tammy, the first time he was leaving Kate’s side since running across the boat to be with her a few hours earlier.

Nearly seconds after Grayson departed, a wrinkly Hispanic man with salt and pepper hair gently opened the door to Kate’s triage room, “Miss Walker,” his voice was warm, comforting to her, “I’m Dr. Ocasio, pleased to meet you.” He shook her hand.

“Am I okay to go home doctor?” Under normal circumstances, Kate knew to not rush doctors, but the urgency of the night and the call of Grayson’s bed overwhelmed her. The doctor sat on the same stood Tammy took early. He nodded, “You are fine. You didn’t sustain any injuries from your little fall tonight.”

Kate stood up, “Thank you.” She stepped back when the doctor continued to talk. “However,” his elderly voice quivered, “I am afraid that your answers to some of our questions didn’t align with our test results for you.” Kate furrowed her brow, too exhausted and overwhelmed to try to put together any puzzle pieces.

“Miss Walker,” the doctor’s tone was light, as if addressing a child, “I feel obliged to tell you that—you’re pregnant.”

#grayson dolan #fanfic #ethan dolan #grayson dolan x oc #sweet enigma #kind stranger #smut #fluff #angst #long story #multi part fic #romance #youtuber #influencer #blurb #concept

81 notes · View notes

talkfastromance4 · 4 years ago

Text

A Year in the Making--Posy’s book (Luke&Lily universe)

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: mentions of casual drinking

a/n: Here it is! I had so much fun writing about our latest addition to the Luke&Lily universe with baby Posy. Thank you all so much for loving this family as much as I do, they hold a special place in my heart. I appreciate your feedback and thoughts very much :)

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

Luke&Lily Masterlist

Enjoy! :)

• • • •

It’s the day of Posy’s first birthday (even though the actual day is in two days on Tuesday) the birthday girl is currently down for her midmorning nap and you’re looking through her baby book. You’ve been very reminiscent the past couple days leading up to your baby girl’s birthday and couldn’t think of a better way to walk down memory lane by pulling out her pale pink book with gold bunnies on the cover.

The first page listed her name, birth date, size, weight and time of her birth followed by an inked hand and footprint. Her hospital bracelet is taped along the bottom as well. On the next page are pictures of your growing bump that sprouted into your precious little Posy.

You still remember the day you discovered you were pregnant. You were at work and it was only midday, you’d had a migraine all morning then while you were organizing papers you turned quickly to your trash can and got sick. With a sigh, you thought you’d feel better, but the nausea still lingered.

As you walked to the breakroom to get a fresh glass of cold water, stomach still rolling, you stopped in your tracks. This was how your pregnancy with Lily started, intense migraines, throwing up and just thinking of it, your breasts felt especially tender. After taking a drink of your water you decided to get a few pregnancy tests on your way home from work. Luke would be picking Lily up from preschool, so you’d have plenty of time to stop at the pharmacy and take the tests.

Several hours later, you were staring at two blue lines on three pregnancy sticks. You were filled with elation and pure joy that there was a new life forming that was one-part you and one-part Luke. You hadn’t been trying or even discussed having a baby, but you felt right and knew Luke would be equally as happy.

You turn the page, flipping through the first twelve months of Posy’s milestones.

One month:

-Whenever there’s music playing, Posy constantly moves her head from side to side as if she’s dancing along to the beat. She sleeps fairly well throughout the night

-She loves staring at the fans and zeroes in on our faces when mama and dada are talking to her. Starting to recognize Lily’s voice who loves to sing to her throughout the day

-Dada loves staring at his girl, he enjoys laying Posy on his chest, tapping his fingers up and down Posy’s back. That’s when she sleeps the best

There’s a photo of Posy resting on Luke’s bare chest, her little lips pursed and her hand in a tiny fist. You remember this day when you took the photo; Posy wouldn’t stop crying until Luke took her from your arms after coming in from a quick jog. Feeling the warmth of his chest made her instantly relax and pair it with his singing voice, she calmed down in moments and fell right to sleep.

Two months:

-Posy is very wiggly! Starts wiggling when one of us enters her room in the morning or after a nap

-She always smiles when Lily talks/sings to her

-Dada loves playing peek-a-boo with Posy even though she doesn’t understand it all too well. She gives him a gummy smile whenever he kisses her fists

-Posy Mae is such a smiley girl when mama has some one on one time with her, it’s our little secret when mama sings to her

The best way to get her down for a nap is by rocking her in her chair and singing softly in her ear. That’s when you spend your time with her and sing a song your own mother sang to you when you were younger. Luke was the singer in the family but for Posy and Lily? You have no problem singing for them because they won’t judge your voice.

One day while you were doing just that, and Luke caught you. He was walking by to get a snack for Lily when he heard you quietly singing in Posy’s room. When he peeked around the corner he saw Posy snuggled into your arms, you with your eyes closed and singing a very calming lullaby to her. He’s only heard you sing a handful of times and each time you stopped in embarrassment but now he listened with such attention and love in his heart.

Three months:

-Posy is a very giggly girl! First time she giggled was when dada was talking to her in a very thick Australian accent. Uncle Ashton is prone to making her giggle as well by pretending to eat her toes

-When upset, Posy loves to be comforted by both mama and dada.

-Posy loves tummy time and can lift her head up all by herself! Lily and Petunia enjoy doing tummy time with her as well and plays with her musical toys. Her own babble has started, and Lily loves to talk with her, telling her stories

Four months:

-Uncle Ashton was over and while Posy was sitting in his lap she reached for a chip he had in his hand before he could snag it back she popped it in her mouth. She made a face at the salty flavor and Ashton laughed which caused her to giggle with him. Loves Uncle Ash and that’s the first time he’s made her laugh

-While on tummy time, Posy rolled over onto her back to grab Petunia’s paw. Lily witnessed it and shouted at us “Mama! Dada! Look at Po!”

The photo you have is of Lily and Posy snuggled up on the fluffy blanket in the living room. Posy is smiling wide at the camera, and Posy’s hair is getting longer and curlier, her dimple more prominent. Her personality was really starting to show at this time. She’s grabbing more things and loves playing with Luke’s phone or his necklaces.

She’s still such a cuddle bug with Luke, always snuggling with him when he gets home from the studio and that’s how her nickname of love bug.

Five months:

Here’s a photo of Calum, Lily and Posy when he babysat for you and Luke so you could have a date night. Posy was worked up the whole time while you and Luke were away. Lily kept trying to help Cal calm her down, but Posy is fussy and throws whatever Lily tried to give her.

“Mama and dada sing to her,” Lily told him with her ears covered.

“What do mama and dada sing to her?” Calum asked while bouncing her in his arms.

“Frozen or million dreams,” Lily told him then ran away to Posy’s room. Calum huffed and continued to walk around the living room with Posy, singing what he remembered of Frozen songs when Lily returned with Posy’s elephant.

“Thanks, Lils,” Calum smiled and handed it to Posy. “Come on bug, please stop crying for Uncle Cal.”

Not long after, you and Luke returned looking glittery-eyed from your date.

“What have you done to our baby?” Luke asked tugging you in by your hand. Upon hearing his voice, Posy lifted her wailing head from Calum’s shoulder and zeroed in on Luke, she reached for him instantly. “C’mere, Posy girl,” he coos taking his daughter from his best friend’s arms. “What’s got you so upset, hm?”

“I hope she wasn’t like this for you all night,” you told Calum while Lily hugged your waist. “You should be in bed little missy.”

“Po hurt my ears, mama,” Lily pouted, and you gave Calum an apologetic look.

“She was—how did you get her to sleep?!” Calum asked dumbfounded when he sees Posy snoozing away on Luke’s shoulder.

“I’m her dad,” Luke smiled kissing the top of her curls.

Six/seven months:

-When Posy girl is excited she starts to scream and babble, usually when Lily does something or they’re playing

-She loves being by Uncle Ash because he always takes her on little “adventures” which is just walking around the backyard of anyone’s house. (photo of them sleeping on his hammock)

-She can sit on her own, puts anything and everything in her reach into her mouth, loves to “dance” on dada’s legs while he holds her up

-Loves playing peek-a-boo with Lily and Ashton

-Tries to imitate dada when he’s singing his head voice around the house and dada always picks her up so they can sing together

At Christmas time she loves playing with the wrapping paper and enjoys the excitement of seeing her whole family in one day. She and Lily wear matching dresses and Lily is a big help in opening her younger sister’s presents.

Eight months:

-Posy crawls like lightning now, gets into everything and we have had to put Petunia’s food bowl up. Dada found Posy playing in it and was just about to shove the food into her mouth when he caught her

-Responds to her name (Posy and Po)

-Uncle Ashton introduced her to his drumsticks and she discovered the game of dropping them on the floor just so he can pick them up and hand them to her

Nine months:

-Posy has learned to wave ‘buh-bye’ to everyone she sees, does it to Lily when dropping her off at Cory’s. Dada taught her that, so he always waves ‘buh-bye’ to her

-Discovered her reflection while looking in mama’s mirror. Posy crawled super-fast to the mirror and smacked the reflection, shrieking in excitement pointing to herself

Ten/eleven months:

-Pulls herself up on her own and dances against the couch while Lily twirls around her when they’re watching Frozen or Moana. When the uncles are over, she stands by each one then motions ‘up’ for them to cuddle her until she gets bored and slips down to move onto the next one. (Still seems to favor Uncle Ash because he “gives the best cuddles”)

-Her curls are getting curlier and a little longer, looks more like her dada every day and loves to walk with his fingers holding onto her hands. Becoming a little daredevil by trying to climb on things

On this page is a collection of photos of Posy and Lily together. They’re snuggling on your bed, dressed in pretty dresses with flowers in their hair from a small photoshoot with Andy and Sarah. Even though Posy is eleven months old, she and Lily are becoming friends and great sisters.

One year

You got to the last page of her book with scrawling letters in the bottom reading “one year old” and a space above it to place a photo when Luke entered your room.

“Hey lovie, people are starting to arrive,” he announces then sits next to you on the bed. “What’re you looking at?”

“Posy’s baby book,” you smile flipping through the pages. “I can’t believe it’s been a year already.”

“I know, I don’t want her to get any bigger,” Luke chuckles perusing through the book himself. “You make the most beautiful babies, you know that? Look at you right from the start when you were showing. I loved your little bump.”

You rest your cheek on his shoulder watching him flip through the pages you’ve already seen again, sighing. He stops on some pages to read what you’ve written down.

“They’re both getting so big,” you mumble sadly.

“And they get more beautiful every day,” he turns his head so he can kiss your forehead, “just like their mama.”

You smile at his compliments, feeling your cheeks warm as you incline your head to kiss his lips.

“Thank you. Is Pose up?”

“I heard her talking to herself when I walked by, figured I’d give her a couple minutes to wake up. We should get her though, Ashton’s arrived.”

“Let’s go get our baby,” you sigh setting her baby book on your bed. Luke pulls you up by your hands, gives you a tender kiss and pulls you from the room.

You hear distant chatter downstairs, Lily’s, Ashton’s and Calum’s combined. When you push open the door Posy is standing in her crib then beams a bright smile to you and Luke.

“Hi Posy girl!” you greet her happily.

“Mum! Daa!” she shrieks, her little arms reaching for you as you pull her from the crib.

“Hi, love bug,” Luke smiles at her and kisses her cheek. “Did you have a good nap?”

She babbles in response while you lay her down on the changing table and Luke gets her little swimsuit that resembles a ladybug. It was a warm day, so you decided to have a pool day in celebration of her first birthday. After slipping on her swim diaper, the two of you get her in her suit and Luke puts sunscreen on her face, arms and legs.

“Are you ready to party, my girl?” Luke lifts her up and tickles her belly then gives her multiple kisses. “Uncle Ash is downstairs waiting for you.” Posy starts wiggling upon hearing her uncle’s name and you and Luke head downstairs.

“There’s the birthday girl!” Calum shouts while Lily is twirling around him holding onto his fingers. She has on her own swimsuit that’s pink with ruffles on the butt.

“Let me have a look at my little one,” Ashton grins stepping forward. He has on a sun hat with strings hanging in front and Posy wriggles out of Luke’s arms into her uncle’s. She starts playing with his strings. “Do you know how old you are today? You’re this many—” he holds up one finger “—that’s small, just like you.”

“Can we go swimming now!” Lily asks tilting her head up at him.

“Yeah we can, the birthday girl is here,” he grins down at her and lets her pull him outside into the back.

Shortly after, Luke’s parent’s and brothers came by and so did Cory and Ella with Michael and Crystal coming in last with Southy and Moose, plenty of gifts in hand for Posy. The pool was filled with laughter and games. You and Luke watched from the patio as Posy floated between all of her uncles and Cory who loved to tickle her.

After dinnertime you all sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to Posy who then proceeded to smear cake on her face and into her hair. Many photos and videos were taken at the inevitable mess she made, her smile big and wide as she held her cake filled hand out to Luke who came in for a kiss to her cheek. He had some cake on his face in aftermath that you happily kissed off him.

“Just like our wedding day, yeah?” he winks at you giving your butt cheek a squeeze.

You and Luke relax under the umbrella watching your family happily in the pool. Posy and Lily are having a wonderful time and Michael joins the two of you with a beer in his hand.

“Why aren’t you in the pool?” you ask him while playing with Luke’s curls.

“Could ask you two the same question,” he smirks eyeing Luke’s hand on your thigh.

“When everyone’s over we like to sit back and watch our girls have fun,” Luke laughs.

“Are you having fun?” you ask him, he seems a little off to you.

“I always have fun with Lily and Pose, but I just get to watch mostly as well.”

“What—”

“Unca Mike! Look what Moosey had! I saved her,” Lily proclaims suddenly running to him. She climbs onto his lap with a large rock.

“Ah thank you, Lils. She shouldn’t be eating rocks,” he takes it from her then places it on the table. He pokes her cheeks and she giggles then you notice water dripping onto the concrete.

“Lily, you’re getting Uncle Michael wet from your suit,” you lean forward trying to get her off his lap.

“I don’t mind, she’s cooling me off,” Michael smiles and she giggles. She traces the tattoos on his arms, she’s always fascinated by her uncles’ tattoos. “Hey Lils, wouldn’t you like to have a baby brother someday?”

You and Luke exchange a look at this question, what spurred this on?

“Like Roman at school?”

Lily had become quite close with a little boy named Roman at pre-k who had dark curls and bright green eyes. His little brother, Levi, is the same age as Posy.

“Yeah, just like Roman,” he nods.

“Mmm…” Lily taps her chin, eyes squinted up at Michael in thought. This is a habit she’s started doing lately when she thinks. “Okay! I’d like a baby brother!”

Michael turns to you and Luke with a big smile, you glance to Luke whose mouth is open in surprise and at the quick turn of events.

“Why don’t you go by Uncle Cal, sweets,” Luke says pointing to him in the pool. “I think he’s looking for you.”

“Okay!” she gives Michael a quick kiss on the cheek then slips off his lap.

“Mike, what—where did this come from?” Luke splutters.

“I’m sorry, I was only half joking,” he rubs at his eyes. “I love your girls, so much, but Cal and Ash are their favorites. And don’t try to tell me otherwise, I know they love me but not as much as them. I dunno…it would be cool if you had a boy that I could get along with, y’know?”

Your heart sank. You do know Lily and Posy gravitate to Calum and Ashton, but their personalities are very similar, so it was no surprise how well they got along. Has Michael felt like this for a long time?

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” you rub at his shoulder. “They do love you just as much as they love Cal and Ash. You always let them try and play your video games and the love when you play some of your remixes because they get to dance to Uncle Mike’s music.”

Michael smiles at that.

“I know they do; I just get a little jealous sometimes that they don’t come to me all the time.”

“I know what you mean,” Luke says. “When mum’s around it’s like we’re chopped liver. But back to the baby brother thing…we haven’t really discussed that or crossed our minds. At least for me it hasn’t…has it for you, lovie?”

“Uh, no, not really. Posy is only turning one but I…” you look to Lily and Posy. Lily just jumped into Cory’s arms with Cal creeping up on her while Posy is playing a form of pattycake with Ashton in her yellow duckie floatie. “I mean, I’ve always wanted three kids.”

“Honestly, you guys, it was just a joke,” Michael shakes his head. “I’m glad I get to be Lily and Posy’s uncles and watch them grow up.”

The rest of the night lingered on until it was time for Posy and Lily to go to bed. When everyone left you and Luke settled on the couch cuddled together with some movie playing in the background. Michael’s words have been playing in your head the rest of the day and has really got you thinking.

“Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“You really haven’t thought about having another baby?” you ask quietly.

He turns the volume down a little then turns to you, he rests his arm on the back of the couch. His blue eyes search your face before his finger smooths the crease between your brows.

“Of course, I have, just not so soon after Posy, that’s all.”

“Do you want to discuss it now or wait a few years…?”

“We can discuss it now if you want,” he nods, a smile ghosting his lips.

“I mean…” you twist yourself so you’re facing him, you bring your fingers to his necklace that’s peeking out from his tank top. “I wouldn’t mind trying…”

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles as your fingers continue down his chest, his eyes flicker back to yours.

You bite your lip, “yeah.”

“So, we’re officially trying for another baby?” he asks spreading your legs apart.

You fall back against the couch pulling him with you.

“If you want to,” you sigh tugging his tank top up and off.

“Let’s try and try and try…” he whispers inching closer until his lips are on yours.

• • • •

Taglist: @galcalirwin @cashtonasff5sos @thecurlsofgod @myloverboyash @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @here-for-the-uproars @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass @gosh-im-short @banditocth @dezzym17 @koalacal @lukeisbaby @spicycal @mysticalhood @notinthesameguey @wastedheartcth @atlcalm @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @babylon-corgis @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @lanternlover2 @istaywithmyjonas @calteahood @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @frontmanash @philthepegacorn @mantlereid @lukedorkyhemmings @addietagglikesbands @kikixfandoms @sanrioluke @mayve-hems @morguelth @haikucal @thatscooibaby @meghanrose05 @idontneedanyone @dinosaursandsocks @cassie-sos @suchalonelysunflower @burstintocolor @zhangyixingxing1 @dead-and-golden @mymindwide @everyscarisahealingplace @stardust-galaxies @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @lovelybonesetc @karajaynetoday

Luke and Lily taglist: @harrysfavslut

#dad!luke #luke&lily #luke fluff #luke hemmings writing #luke lily and posy #l&l #l&l oneshot #little-po #5sos writing #dad!sos

96 notes · View notes

technicallymilkshakes · 4 years ago

Text

A Change of Season

Genre(s): Fluff, Fantasy Pairing: Yixing x Reader Word Count: 4.1k

This is my gift for @chicken-fifi for the @exolssecretsanta event! I hope you enjoy this take on dad!Xing. Happy Holidays!

When Mae stampedes back into the house, a whole host of critters follow her in. A young fox kit bolts between your legs, a hawk chasing after it. You shoo away a curious chipmunk, intent on investigating the roasted chestnuts you've set out to cool. Bingo, the white hare that has followed your daughter since she celebrated her first birthday, runs in next with a little leap of joy. And rounding out the procession is Yixing, who walks into the room with a sheepish expression.

Melting ice and snow puddle along the floor like little cookie crumbs trails that lead to what is apparently a whole forest's worth of animals in your house, your daughter included. You and your husband exchange a familiar look, one of equal parts fondness and exasperation.

You beat him to placing a finger on your nose.

“Not it!” you crow victoriously.

Yixing laughs and hangs up his scarf, resigned to animal round-up duty.

You smile and hand the chipmunk, who has returned for a second attempt at pilfering, a chestnut. You watch with amusement as he promptly stuffs it in his mouth. This is the enchanted life you've become used to ever since your daughter was born.

After a dinner of rich stew and homemade bread, Mae totes her father off to play, leaving you to clean the dishes. She had not been happy with him after he had herded the last woodland creature out the door, so you're glad that she seems to either have forgiven him or forgotten.

Your mind drifts as you begin washing up. The window over the sink affords you a view of the backyard and the forest that abuts it. It had snowed long and hard the past two days, but tonight the sky is clear. The evergreens appear like frosty giants in the evening with their wintry snow coats aglow.

Winter is your favorite time of year. Your family bundles up inside together against the cold, a cozy intimacy that no other season can seem to replicate. Dinners are warm affairs, full of good food, laughter, and Mae's cheerful chatter. It feels, for a time at least, that you exist outside of the rest of the world. The only sounds are of birds, the crack of branches and the snow falling from them, then crunching beneath your feet. You never want it to end.

Such thoughts and reminiscing help pass the time, and soon enough you are drying the last dish and setting it back in the cupboard. The quiet strikes you then and pulls you into the living room in its wake.

Already Mae has fallen asleep, the gentle glow of Christmas lights dancing blue, orange, white upon her eyelashes. Yixing cradles your daughter in his arms, bending his head low to sweep his lips against her cheek. The fire he had kindled hours ago crackles dimly in the background. Bingo, ever watchful, has curled up beneath the Christmas tree to keep an eye on his sleeping charge.

A deep-seated happiness burns within you. You promise yourself to commit this moment to memory.

You come up behind your husband and touch his shoulder. When he looks up, tears sparkle in the corners of his eyes.

“Yixing?”

“She's getting so big,” he whispers. “I remember when she was just a baby. Her whole hand could only wrap around one finger. And now she already knows how to talk.”

You wrap yourself around him and feel the reciprocating bittersweet ache of your child growing up. “Oh, Yixing,” you whisper back. “We're parents for the rest of our lives,” you murmur as you rest your head on his shoulder. “She'll always be our baby.”

Eventually, Yixing puts Mae to bed. She stirs from her sleep, brow scrunching. Bingo hops onto the bed and slips into her arms. You sweep her fringe away and lay a kiss as gentle as snowfall on her forehead. Only then does she relax and slip back into sleep.

Arms slips around your waist and spin you. Yixing holds you loosely in the circle of his arms. He catches your gaze, eyes sleepy and affectionate. Mae's nightlight projects snow drifting down the walls around you.

“Love you,” he says.

No matter how many times you hear it, you always have to fight down the sudden spike in your pulse, the warming of your cheeks.

“You're just jealous I haven't given you your kiss yet.”

He's smiling, the shadow of his dimple a deep dark. “How'd you know?”

You smile knowingly. “Love you, too,” you whisper back before finally giving him the kiss he's been waiting for.

You dream that night. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that you remember.

One spring day, when the first buds appeared on the trees, Mae was taken. You had been sleeping, and then you weren't. A great clattering came from down the stairs. Mae's crib was gone. You scrabbled out of bed, crying out “Mae!” Yixing jerked awake behind you, but you couldn't linger. There was no time to explain.

You sprinted downstairs to see two white-tailed deer dragging the crib out of the house. Vines had sprouted from the crib's wooden legs and attached themselves to the halters of the 12-point bucks. The backdoor was open and they were making a dash for the woods.

“No!” you shouted, leaping after them. You managed to grab onto one of the rails. Bingo peered at you over the edge. They were going so fast, they were dragging you through the remaining snow, which that night measured a scant inch. Snow and slush slid into your shirt. I can't hold on, you realized with creeping horror. And just as you thought it, you jolted as the deer dragged you over the jagged end of a rock. Your fingers slipped and you came a halt, curling around the bruise blooming on your ribs.

A breeze whisked by you and you glanced up through tears to see Yixing racing into the forest after your baby.

Minutes, hours went by, and then a blinding flash, brighter than lightning, blazed through the woods. The howl of soul in despair rang out after like thunder.

You were already crying by the time Yixing came back, carrying something. He looked up at you, devastated.

In his hands hovered the most perfect snowflake you had ever seen.

Mae sits at the table drawing with Yixing. Crayons scatter across the table in a mess of color. Some have rolled off the edge. Yixing holds one captive, rolling it back and forth on the ground with a socked foot.

“What are you drawing?” you ask Mae.

“This is you!” she says, pointing to a vaguely human-like shape. There is a concerning red blotch by the head. A smaller blob she declares to be herself, and Bingo a small circle that you had thought was a foot at first.

“And where am I?” asks Yixing.

Mae points to her father's drawing.

“I'm a sheep?” he asked, confused.

“No! A bunny,” she says back.

You stifle a laugh as Yixing looks even more confused.

Mae traces the sheep's horns. “These are its ears.” Yixing nods thoughtfully, then scrawls over the paper to make the sheep more bunny-like

He's such a good father, you think. He is patient, and kind. He listens to her and responds sincerely. You are profoundly in love with them, with your family and its small place in the world.

The two drawings hang from the refrigerator later that evening. You can hear Yixing playing with Mae in the living room, bouncing her up and down on his lap as she giggles and shrieks “Horsey!” Mae has labeled each figure in indecipherable symbols, but underneath one, in handwriting too elegant to be a child's hand, reads Daddy. It is undeniable a bunny.

You had long been suspicious of Bingo. He was no ordinary hare. But you had never been more suspicious of him than when your daughter came home this year.

It was the first snow of the year, and you and Yixing had been standing outside for hours already in the cold so that you didn't miss it. And there! To your left, a bright light had flashed in the forest. You were the first to find Mae and you fell on your knees before her.

“Oh, baby,” you said, cradling her cheeks in your hands, checking her over for any injuries. She was dressed in a similar foreign garment as last time, this one made of a pale pink shimmering gossamer.

“Where have you been?” you cried. She was old enough now, if she could just tell you where she went, then maybe....

And that was the first time you noticed it. The way your daughter fell silent and stared at the white hare.

She looked you full in the eyes a moment later and said, “Bingbing says I can't tell you yet.”

Yixing came at that moment and swept her into his arms.

“Don't leave us again,” he said, voice muffled against her. “Promise me that you won't go.”

“Daddy!” Mae complained, squirming in his hold. She looked at you plaintively over his shoulder and pouted. “I'm hungry.”

The first time it happened, you thought you'd lost your daughter forever. You had grieved with the force of a death. And then you woke up on the first day of snowfall to see a white hare on your chest.

“Mae...” came Yixing's hoarse voice besides you. You turned and saw your daughter in her crib beside the bed. Two seasons had come and gone, and she had clearly kept growing the months you'd been apart. But she watched you with those same keen eyes like she knew exactly who you.

“Did you...bring her back?” you asked, turning back to the white hare. Bingo merely twitched his nose a few times. He seemed to be staring right at you.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You rested a tentative hand on the hare, who close its eyes in acceptance. After another moment, it jumped away.

Yixing watched you with wide eyes, Mae already cradled in his arms. You wrapped your arms around the both of them. “I love you so much,” you whispered in a voice choked with tears. “I am so lucky to have you both.”

It snows again the next day. You're not sure who's more excited about it, you or your daughter. Yixing struggles to get Mae kitted out for the weather, and you practically trip over yourself to shove your boots and hat on at the same time.

You had spent your free time this fall building a sled. You had cobbled all the pieces together yourself: the polished wood, the metal runners, the string that worked the rudder like reins on a horse. The winters have only grown longer since Mae was born, and you want to enjoy it while you can.

You start to wax up the candles with a broken candle when Mae huffs and puffs her way over to you, stretching up to try and reach your hand.

“No, mommy! I want to do it.”

You laugh and hand her the piece of candle. You wrap your fingers around hers, two-times clumsy with her gloves on, and help her slide the wax on the metal, lifting your daughter up when she can no longer reach.

“Perfect!” you declare when you finish with the second runner. “Thank you for your help, my little elfling.” You pinch her nose lightly and she giggles and runs to her dad.

All of you, Bingo included, pile out into the snow. You and Mae get the honors of the inaugural sled ride. Yixing bursts into a run first, yelling “race you down the hill!”

“Get him, mommy!” Mae yells, trying to scoot the sled forward. You kick off, and soon the two of you are zooming. You catch up with Yixing easily and then you are past, far past, trees blurring by.

The sled finally comes to a rest and Mae is still laughing. She has already hopped off the sled and is tugging on you, wanting to do it all over again. You roll off the sled, feeling about as dexterous as a marshmallow. Then you stand and survey how very long you have to climb back up.

“Come on, Mommy,” Mae says, slipping her hand into yours. The two of you walk forward in silence for a minute before you ask, “Where's your daddy, Mae?”

She runs forward, Bingo dashing after her, and you call after them not to go too far by themselves. Your warning is half-hearted, though. The woods welcome Mae like a friend. Even now, cardinals flock to the branches around her, bright splashes of red against the snow like trail marks pointing straight to her. There is an undeniable magic to your child. You have a feeling that nothing could hurt her, and the only thing that could take her is a force that you have no way of stopping.

The sled glides easily back up the hill—you do your best to keep it in the tracks you left on the way down. You eye the branches of the trees along the climb. Not one of the deciduous trees you spy has a single hint of a bud upon its branches. You heave a sigh in relief.

You're the one who stumbles across Yixing first. He has fallen backwards into the snow, his phone lying on his chest, staring up at the sky. You can't resist—you pick his phone up and take a few pictures of him, rosy cheeked, haloed in snow.

You pocket his phone and stretch a hand out for him. Mae comes barreling towards the two of you, yelling “Daddy!”

Yixing takes your hand with a smile.

“I guess you guys won.”

Later that night, Yixing shows you a video on his phone. He was filming the entire sled race. You watch second hand as you tuck Mae between your legs and wrap an arm around her. Suddenly, the camera is jerking forward, Yixing's muffled challenge to a race humming through the speaker. You hear his huffed laughter, the crunch of snow and the way his jacket sleeves rub against his sides as he runs. All of a sudden, you and Mae streak by, Mae squealing, and then the world topples. From white to black to white again, you hear Yixing trip, the sound of his breath knocked out of him in a single oof. Miraculously, he manages to keep a grip on his phone.

He lays there, camera facing the sky. All you hear is him breathing. A couple of snowflakes drift by and just miss landing on the lens. You feel oddly self-conscious when you show up onscreen. Is that what you looked like? A wide grin split your face, your hair windblown. You look down at Yixing with what is unmistakably love.

The video ends when you grab the phone to take pictures of Yixing (which you have already bullied him into sending you).

“I love watching you with Mae,” he confesses as the two of you lay in bed. Your bodies have curved inward, seeking the presence of the other. His fingers wrap around yours.

“Your smile, how tender you are...” Yixing turns and presses his face against your neck. “I love you both so much,” he says.

Mae becomes increasingly more cuddly as winter wears on. It's difficult to put her to bed. She'll cry long into the night, begging to sleep with you and Yixing. More and more, one of the two of you would cave in. She would crawl into your bed and rest in the warm hollow between your two bodies. Soon, neither of you bothered with carrying her to her bed.

How could either of you resist when you already had so little time with her? You want to hold her close just as much as she wants to be held. Everyday, you find her napping with Yixing, laid out along his chest and stomach. Your phone album is full of pictures of the two of them together.

Yixing said she took after you. But you see all the ways in which Mae takes after her father. The shape of her eyes. Her brilliant dimples. Her wavy hair. You had taken far too many pictures of them waking from a nap together, sporting matching cases of wild bedhead. It is the most adorable sight you have ever seen.

It happens earlier this year than it ever has before. On Christmas Day, Mae disappears. You race outside, going tree to tree, looking for the sight of even a hint of a bud. But there is nothing.

Hours pass in the woods, but they feel barren. You hunt for even a hint that Mae has been there, but find not even footprints. The forest is quiet and empty. For the first time, you feel the loneliness of winter.

You trudge into the house, numb from cold and disbelief. Yixing looks equally as hollow. “Bingo's still here,” he says hoarsely. And the two of you collapse towards each other with the gravity of your anguish. Why is this happening, you wonder.

Later that night, you wander in Mae's room. Lying atop her pillow is a single brilliant snowflake and a white hare.

Spring marches in with a a triumph. The flowers are riotously beautiful—bashful pinks, velvety reds, radiant yellows, and inky purples. All the life that winter has lacked bursts forth with a vengeance. And still, Mae is gone.

Bingo spends most of his time outdoors now. The sight of him upsets Yixing, which in turn upsets you. But outside of your husband's sights, you take some comfort in the hare's presence. He joins you on walks through the forest, thin tethers to a time before. You while away most of your days there now.

Where you have turned to the forest, Yixing haunts the threshold to Mae's room. He doesn't go in. He simply stares, watching the snowflake that never melts. You suspect that he's waiting for the moment it disappears so he'll know exactly when Mae has returned.

Neither of you have been sleeping much, nor well. The house is quiet, as if it's waiting with the two of you. It feels like the first time she disappeared all over again. A part of you, one you can never confess having to Yixing, thinks that she will never come back. Not this time.

One morning, you awake and find Yixing gone. You frown and throw the bedsheets off. Yixing never gets up before me. You slip downstairs and find yourself standing in front of Mae's room. The snowflake is gone.

“Yixing?” you call out, with real concern now.

It is quiet still. A pot of coffee rests on the counter. A half-empty mug sits abandoned on the dining room table, the chair still pulled out.

The backdoor is open.

“No,” you gasp, and stagger outside.

Yixing is nowhere in sight, but you know he must be in the forest. What is he doing. You hesitate at the edge of the woods. You've spent hours amounting to days in this forest, and yet it suddenly appears to you a maze. He could be anywhere.

And then you hear it. A chorus of whistles. And like magic, a path marked by the red of cardinals appears before you. You hurtle along it, crashing through bracken and bramble, until you see the sight of a very familiar back.

Yixing whirls around. In his hands is the snowflake.

“Look here,” he says, pointing to the snowflake. “The gates are open.” You gaze at the snowflake. It is like ice, or glass—clear enough to see through to Yixing's palm on the other side. All six points of the snowflake are perfectly formed like castle spires or a knight's sword, and at its hub is a beautiful ice castle with open gates.

You look up at Yixing. “The gates weren't open before,” he says. “There's a path,” he continues, body already half-turning, “the hare....There!”

He takes off, and you see the flash of a hare disappearing in the distance.

The two of you race after Bingo. The world flashes by in colors and noise, simultaneously real and insubstantial. You feel the burn of your lungs, the jolt that goes up your legs with each stride. All you have to do is follow Yixing. He is a few feet in front of you until.

He isn't.

You try to stop, but your momentum carries you forward. You break through the edge of the trees and slide right over the edge of a blind ravine. You try reaching for the scraggliest tree you have ever seen jutting from the cliff face, but it uproots and you, and it, plummet

down

onto warmth. Thick white blankets your lap. Yixing sits ahead of you, looking just as shell-shocked as you feel.

“It's about time,” rumbles forth a voice from beneath. You realize all of a sudden that you are sitting astride the most gigantic white hare you have ever seen.

The hare comes to a halt, lowering itself. With a gentle shake, both you and Yixing are deposited on the ground.

You gape at your surroundings. It is starless night, yet everything is awash in a glow of blue. Frost blankets the world as far as your eye can see. Without the warmth of the hare, the cold bites deep into you, undeterred by the thin pajamas you had rushed out in.

A sudden wind blows, and you shield your eyes against it. A man, or something like it, lands before you. Wings arch away from his back and a small fount of feathers sprout from his red hair, whereas his eyebrows and beard are a trim black.

“Welcome, Starbearer. Welcome, Woodweaver.” His voice is musical.

You and Yixing stare perplexed at the winged man. He approaches Yixing first.

“Thank you for returning the First Star. We humbly accept this gift.”

For the snowflake in Yixing's palms had turned into a blazing light. Warmth radiates from it, reaching you even from where you stand. The man bows his head, cupping his hands beneath Yixing's and then pushes them both up. You watch as the star ascends from its cradle in Yixing's palms until it streaks into the night sky. It settles into place, and soon, begins to color night into day.

The man approaches you next.

“Thank you for returning the First Tree. We humbly accept this gift.”

This time, the man places his hands over yours and pushes down. The scraggly tree, which you had been holding onto all this time, immediately roots itself into the ground and begins to flower and leaf. Soft showers of iridescent petals drift around you.

Morning dawns over the land and sweeps the ice away. Grass has sprouted beneath your feet, and little flowers like fireworks burst into bloom. You gasp. In the distance, you catch sight of a familiar castle, with spires that spear the sky. It glimmers golden in the sunshine.

“I apologize. We have been looking for you for a long time, however your daughter was an unforeseen element that confounded our agents.” He gestures with a wing to two white-tailed deer and a white hare. “All this time, we expected it to be one person when we needed two.” He shakes his head, feathers ruffling.

“But I digress. You have brought with you the first new season. Starvale thanks you.”

The winged man observes you both for a moment, then gives a brisk nod, the plume at his front rising.

“Daddy!”

Like a reflex, Yixing drops and gathers Mae into his arms. You find yourself in the mix a moment later. You shake with sobs, pressed cheek to cheek with your daughter. Yixing pours kisses all over both of you, much to Mae's chagrin. She is wearing the same kind of garment as before, this one with real twigs and berries stitched into it. Some berries get crushed, staining the fabric around it in halos of red.

“Will you stay?” she asks. Her eyes are wide and watery, her little hands clutching fistfuls of Yixing's sweater.

“You have my heart,” Yixing answers, helplessly in love. “For the two loves of my life, I would capture every star in the sky if I had to.”

And so, the family stayed on in Starvale.

The Starbearer walked the lands to bring morning and night. The Woodweaver felled trees and scattered seeds to make the forests grow. And their Herald of Joy showed the world what great love is capable of.

** A/N: Thank you for reading! I’m grateful for this event, which has brought forth such wonderful content and connected creators across the fandom. This was my first crack at a kid fic, which was a great challenge. Thanks to chicken-fifi for being such a good sport, and sorry that I couldn’t send you more asks! Still, I hope you enjoyed. I look forward to more of your own writing!

Happy Holidays!

24 notes · View notes