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jasmines-library · 4 months

Note

Would it be too much to request a batsis oneshot, about her knowing how to cook😆 like whenever Alfred is not available he leaves her in charge to help ensure the other family members are eating without buring down the house🤭 also a lil thing u could add is she often visits the manor just to cook cuz Alfred always keeps the kitchen fully stocked with ingredients which means she can cook pretty much anything she desires💜 I just thought it'd be cute to have Bruce be envious of his daughters cooking skills whereas he lacks them🤭

Kitchen Antics

Thanks for requesting! This was cute to write!

Word Count: 1k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“I still don’t think this is very fair.” Bruce pouted as you slid the plate in front of him.

“Hm?”

“This.” He gestured to the plate that you had served to him, piled to the brim. It had taken you hours to prepare, especially without Alfred’s help, but it was well worth it. “How come Alfred lets you cook and not me. I’m a fully grown adult. I should be allowed to cook a meal for my family.”

“Maybe it’s because you can’t actually cook.” You threw over your shoulder with a smug grin.

That earnt a snort from Damian which he hid poorly behind a hand. Bruce shot him an unamused look.

“Can too.” Bruce said. This time you raised a brow as you slid into your seat.

“Oh yeah, because the last time you cooked it turned out great.” Jason rolled his eyes.

You remember it distinctly. It was one of the first times Alfred was away and had reluctantly let Bruce use the kitchen. He had regretted it the moment he returned because his kitchen was hardly recognisable. And the food Bruce had cooked was less so. If you could even count it as food. It was the furthest thing from edible. Somehow undercooked and burnt to a crisp around the edges at the same time. Even Alfred wasn’t sure how he managed to do that, and he had seen almost everything when baking with the rest of your brothers. It was safe to say that Bruce was no longer allowed in the kitchen after that. So, the responsibility turned to you.

Alfred had always said you had a natural talent for cooking, though you swore it was because you had the best teacher: You had spent countless hours helping him when you were younger and you were the only person he didn’t seem to physically wince at when you walked into the kitchen. So, naturally when he announced he was leaving this week he entrusted you to make sure the family were fed without the entire manor being burnt down, or being filled with takeout boxes.

Your brothers had tried countless times to worm their way into the kitchen, but you ushered them out every time. They were just as bad as Bruce when it came to cooking. There was one time Damian and Dick had tried to bake a cake to surprise Bruce on his birthday. And it did…when the fire they had started nearly set the whole kitchen alight. Luckily Alfred had smelt it before any real damage could happen, but the pair of adults were far from happy. Jason had never shown much interest in cooking. He would usually just grab himself a snack from one of the cupboards instead of actually cooking himself something, so he had never really been an issue to keep out. Though, often he would try to sabotage your work just to wind you up. As for Tim, he was the best out of the four boys. By no means a master at work, it was often slightly bland but he was the only one who hadn’t tried to kill everyone with his cooking so he got bonus points for that.

“That was one time.” Bruce turned his head away, pouting like a small child.

“Tt. Father, I think you’ve tried to poison us every time you’ve gone near the kitchen.” Damian jested through a mouthful of food. “Perhaps you should ask Joker to try it. Might take a villain off of our hands.”

Tim stifled a laugh. “This is lovely, Y/N. Thank you.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

The six of you fell into a comfortable silence as you ate, before Bruce finally spoke up again. Cutting through the sound of cutlery scraping against china plates.

“Is my cooking really that bad?”

He was answered with silence. And a lot of smirks.

“...Are you jealous of Y/N, Father?” Dick grinned.

“Psh…No.”

Bruce was a terrible liar.

“Do you need any assistance, Miss Y/N?” Alfred poked his head around the kitchen door. He had returned from his trip not too long ago, glad to see that everyone had been well fed and that the house was still in one piece.

Glancing up from the bowl of ingredients you were whisking, you met Alfred’s proud glance. “No thank you, Alfred. You already have everything I need.”

Alfred smiled up at you. It was nice for you to stop by once in a while to see them. He enjoyed seeing you cook. Better yet he enjoyed tasting your new creations each week so he kept everything stocked, even if he knew he wouldn’t need it himself. The shelves were lined with all sorts of spices, flours, sugars and ingredients for you to create something new so that if you ever decided to stop by (which you liked to do at least once a week) he would have everything you could ever need.

Your brothers loved it when you would bring over food to them too. Most of it would be gone in minutes and they would turn to you asking for more. Bruce would do the same too, although he would still have that look of teasing jealousy on his face. But he was proud really. And glad that at least one of his children had enough common sense to not set the entire manor alight when baking a cake.

BATFAM TAGLIST:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

@mamapucket

@hearts4robs

@harleycao

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moondirti · 9 months

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warnings: smut, afab!anatomy, unprotected p-in-v, eye contact, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), biting, hickeys, drooling, literally a good for nothing thirst, pwp

Miguel O'Hara likes to watch your face as he fucks you.

Doggy style and cowgirl are good 'n' all, don't get him wrong. There's a particular way to them that allows him to hit parts of you inaccessible in any other position. But Miguel O'Hara likes to watch your face as he fucks you – sandwiched between your spread legs, rutting in missionary – because nothing gets him going like the subtle unravelling of your expressions. The manner in which your brows screw up, or the tears that droop your lashes. How glossy your lips get with the spittle you've no energy to swallow, drooling, fucked silly on his cock.

Yeah, if he had it his way every time, he'd choose to be real up close and personal, his full weight on top of you. Nothing gets him going like when your noses touch one another, your jaw captured in his hand. He holds your head in place because he knows how flustered you get with constant eye contact, all demure in spite of the wanton moans he thrusts out of your chest. So, you're either a shy thing or his attention is too intense, severe reverence pouring from carmine irises onto every tenuous reaction. The room, your shared space, heady and sweltering hot with sex.

And he never misses a thing. He sees the way your teeth clench when he pinches your clit, ignited by the strict pleasure. He sees how your cheeks cringe, pull, drop, when he plugs you with his cock, siphoned into stillness by your spasming slit. And when he whispers filthy promises onto your chin, mouth pressed there in a perpetual kiss – gonna fuck you full, corazón. my pretty girl, clever girl. gonna cum into you and lick it clean. you'd like that, hm? uhuh. yeah, i see you. i know you would – he revels in the hot bursts of breath that fan across his cheeks. He's always close enough that he can feel, not just hear, your moans.

That's the thing. Miguel likes panting in tandem with you – warm, dry palm smoothing the matted hair off your cheek. He's always infinitely more composed, though. A thin sheen of sweat glazes his bronzed skin, and his cock is slick with both your juices, but he still manages to keep his wits about while you hardly remember yours. They're always honed in on you; how you respond, what you like, what he does that draws the loudest scream. He peppers your face in kisses and nips the fleshier bits. He nuzzles the plane under your jaw. He keeps his efforts almost exclusively focused on your head and cunt, equally divided amongst the two, and it's only on the rare occasion that he ventures away from either.

To take a nipple into his mouth, maybe, tongue lapping at the pebbled peaks. To lay hickeys over your chest – a personal favourite past time when the rise and fall of it is another indication to your enjoyment. To drag his fangs softly on the soft expanse of your tummy. He always makes good on his word, so he eats you out like your pouring into him will quench him for weeks, stuffing his face on puffy folds and refusing to come up for air.

All the while, though, his eyes will remain trained on you. They never left. He props your neck up by a pillow so your expressions are still accessible to him, and when he moves gradually down your body, they're focused upward through dark lashes. If you squint through the foggy pleasure that obscures your vision, you in turn can recognise the subtle smirks he makes at every ministration. The sniffs when you cum on his lips for the umpteenth time. The lewd wet of his fingers when he sucks them in preparation for your needy hole. He scissors them into you, stretches you enough, then dives back up to squash a bruising kiss to your lips as his cock finds its way back in again.

Because he can't forget the other component of his promise, of course – to pump you full of his seed. It's so much, an hours worth of build up, straining his heavy balls from the moment you started. He humps you until every last drop is adequately milked from them, groaning into your mouth as his tongue wrestles yours. It's hard to breath with his body pinning you down, all broad shoulders and defined muscles, and the unrelenting attention battering you into something stupid – yet the hypoxia only adds another intoxicating angle to the mix. You have to make the decision between stopping for air or taking him in in all his vigour.

And, more often than not, it's the latter. It's the least you can do after all he's given you, after all.

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lustlovehart · 3 months

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since reqs are still open i have a thought,,,,

scara/wanderer falling in love with reader all over again after he forgets them and everything else after the attempt of becoming god feel free to ignore those

A/n: For the sake of this request, he forgets who he is for months instead of just a day.

Summary: He’s had no name for so long, maybe his salvation is the voice that has remained in his head. Though, it seems that voice has turned to reality.

Warnings: Told from his perspective, Wanderer without his memories, but bonus is when he does get them back, Spoilers for Sumeru, Scara wants to kill Dottore, Jealousy, Kinda corny

Puppets are meant to have strings, and yet he is forced to lift his limbs on his own. Puppets have puppeteers make them do what they must yet he has to think for himself.

It makes sense, yet why is he left to walk without a purpose.

It feels like he's forgotten something from his past, yet there is no past for him to remember.

"Kuni... Have you... that isn't my... Huh...? You're just embarrassed I... pictures... Didn't hide... Okay... Think it's sweet... from you...!"

It's like his brain only had memories of some broken past he could no longer recall. Yet, he still finds some worth in the broken words that echo in his head.

"Uhm sir...? Can you please hand me that sunsettia? I have the Mora for it."

His trance is quickly dissipated as the voice in front of him is sounded. It feels familiar yet he doesn't have it saved in his brain.

"Huh...? Oh sure."

With no sure background on himself, nor any real idea of how he came to be, he's stuck working many jobs. His finger tips quickly brush against the hand in front of him, it felt like static rushed up to his chest, though he lacked a heart it felt as if there was one there.

"Thank you, I'll be taking my leave, so, have a good day." Familar...

"Sunsettias and Bulle fruit are kinda different huh? In fontaine, there's this certain candy made out of it, have you ever had it Kuni? No? I'll bring you some when I go back! You wanna come too...? Wha?! Don't act like you didn't say that! Hey don't walk away from me!"

Before he could reach out and ask for your name, you had already walked away from him. It didn't feel like the first time it had happened either.

A week later, all he could remember was that single interaction. His fingers still tingling whenever he remembered you.

It's as if he had some third sense for you, the moment you step into the bazaar his eyes quickly looked toward the direction you had cam in from.

"What is your name" his hands cling onto your wrist, even though you weren't planning to leave any time soon, almost like he felt as if he let go you would disappear once more.

"Wha...?" You're still not too caught up in what it is exactly he's asking so your don't answer, only quirking your eyebrow at him.

"Name?"

"Mine? It's [Name]...?" He quietly whispers it under his breath, like a mantra, a prayer. When he says your name again it's like it melts off his tongue.

Like you belong there on his lips.

"Am I in trouble? I promise i didn't steal anything from the stand sir!"

"What? No no, It's not that." He pauses before he speaks, a little hesitant while he thinks of his wording to dish out, how does he ask without coming off as weird? "I think... You're... You seem familiar."

"Hm? Well I do get supplies here often so maybe that's it-"

"Can we have dinner later?"

"Wait wha? Well, I mean we can, but I only know you as the vendor here, so that's kinda sudden is it not...?" He takes what you say into consideration, but only shrugs his shoulders.

"It probably is but, I wanna talk to you more." He couldn't let the opportunity slip between his fake fingers, for such a long time since he had awoken, it's like your voice had been in his head for such a long time.

No, not like... Your voice has been with him.

------

Months had passed by in such a hurry, yet he still had no title to go by. He didn't have anything attached to his person, so he told you the name he remembers feint whispers of.

"Kuni...?"

He can tell in your expression the name is familiar on your tongue, but does not hold any memories in your head. He doesn’t mind though, it's nice to hear you adress him, even if if the name you speak isnt one he remembers.

It doesn't take long before occasionally meets up turned into daily hang outs. There wouldn't be a second where you two weren't attached by the hips.

The two of you sit on the highest branch of the tree located at port ormos, your head rested on his shoulders while the wind calmly brushes by the two of you.

"Kuni." He doesn’t give you an answer but you can feel his eyes bore into you.

"I have to leave next week. Something urgent came up and… My job needs me to leave sumeru for some time, i’m not sure how long though." His expression doesn’t give too much away, but when you lift your head to look at him, the slight squint in his eyes is all you need to know he’s upset by it. “Don’t give me that look, it probably isn’t gonna be for more than a month anyway so i’ll be back soon.” He turns his head away from you, presumably to hide whatever look he has splayed on his face.

“Don’t be like that, besides, it’s my birthday soon. It’ll give you time to prepare for when I get back.” He still doesn’t answer you. A sigh leaves your throat before your hand reaches up to his face, pulling it closer to your lips as a quick peck is placed on his cheek. It’s enough to stun him a bit, watching his brain short circuit in real time while a smile cracks on your mouth.

“What would you want anyway? You’re not too open about your wants.” It’s nice to know he cares. Though you don't give him a straight answer, once again deciding to mess with him.

"Who knows, maybe I want you-" it doesn't take long before a palm pushes your face mid sentence. "Wha?! I was gonna ask for food."

With the way his face is turned, you'll never notice the way his face is warmed. He's sure if he had one, his chest would be beating sporadically.

He hopes the two of you can last.

------

Bonus:

It had been awhile since he had last seen you, 2 weeks maybe? At the time, when you had told him on your little date, he didn’t think much of it, he had only the memories of the clothes on his back to stick to, so he really believed it was for a simple job.

But with his memories back, he knows what your "job" truly is. Formerly, you were his assistant back in his harbinger days, but now that he is no longer the ballader, he can only seethe in silence at the thought of you being a differnt harbingers aid.

He might even go insane if he finds out you're to be working under The Doctor.

God Forbid, he finds out that man has been messing with you, he'll gladly become a god once more if that means he can protect you, or better yet, destroy him.

Instead of his hiding spot being a place to relax, he's now left with the thought of Dottore in his mind, it makes his hands curls into balls, grassblades ripping apart at how tight he's clutching his fists, he's sure if he was human there would no doubt be blood pouring out-

A sudden weight had jumped on him from behind, arms quickly tightening around him, a familar head coming into view.

"I finally found you." His eyes are right in front of your own, like your eyes are locked onto his and he can't look away from you. "I was worried, about you, ever since I had come back yesterday, you weren't at the usual spot."

Of course he wouldn't be. He had finally remembered his past sins, he no longer felt worthy enough to lay by your side.

But he still had some sense to at least protect you from the shadows.

"I just felt like changing the scenery is all."

"Hm? You've never wanted to do that before. Did something happen?"

His fingers... His fake fingers, tightly grip onto your very real arm.

"Maybe I've grown a hatred for doctors, is that not reasonable?"

"Huh...?? It's certainly random to change a spot for that reason that's for sure."

"If a certain doctor had any copies of himself, I would've loved to rip him to pieces."

"Okay future serial killer..."

He doesn't answer, maybe... Maybe it's best you don't remember his past atrocities with him.

"Perhaps you're one too [Name], who knows, maybe you're just as bad as me."

Your head leans forward, resting your chin on his shoulder while he talks.

"If that's the case, we really are meant to be huh?"

He let's a laugh escape his throat, not the usual one he lets out, filled with joy, it's filled with something more sinister, menacing? Yet it's still filled with some love for you.

"Yeah, that might be why we're together again."

"Again? Did you date a doppelganger?"

"Just sit down."

" Oh wow, that's some new attitude."

---

Wanderer before he got his memories back would probably be really awkward so I tried to incorpate that. (I wrote this really sporadically, so there's probably a lot of mistakes and really rushed I'm so sorry 😔)

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scara #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #vesperwrites #askves #scaramouche fluff #wanderer fluff

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moonstruckme · 8 months

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Hi! I love your writing so much and was wondering if you could write Remus giving super lovey dovey aftercare to the reader? (Like maybe the reader gets really tired or has a bit of muscle pain after the deed and it’s just Rem taking care of her)

Thanks sm for requesting!

cw: definite implied smut, but no real details

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 798 words

It’s almost embarrassing that you’re hurting. You’d been talking big a little while ago, all I can take it and don’t stop, feels so good, and that had felt very (very) true at the time, but now that you’re coming down from your high, the ramifications of going so hard are catching up to you. You wish Remus wouldn’t notice, because it wasn’t long ago that he was telling you how good you were being for him and you’d hate to lose that reputation, but of course Remus misses nothing.

He’s trailing a finger lazily up and down your side when he stops just shy of your hip. “You’re tense,” he murmurs, prodding carefully at your lower belly. “Are you cramping?”

“It’s not bad,” you try, and he frowns. “Just a little, uh, muscle pain.”

“Dovey.” He pouts, and it’s almost comical, the mouth that had teased and bitten at you minutes before all pursed in sympathy. He begins rubbing your stomach with his palm tenderly, one hip bone to the other and back again. “Where does it hurt, love?”

“Right…there,” you hiss as he adds a bit of pressure, and Remus stops immediately. “And—and my legs.”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” He moves his other hand to rest on your thigh, like he can banish your pain with just his touch. “I knew I shouldn’t have been so rough with you.”

“Worth it.” You grin at him, and you’re rewarded with a low chuckle.

“Still, I think I’ll work on having a bit more restraint in the future.” Now it’s your turn to pout, and Remus thumbs affectionately at your cheek, following his touch with a kiss. “I’m gonna go get your heating pad, see if that helps. Just relax, yeah?”

You start to shiver after he goes, the slight chill in the room more apparent now that your blood isn’t flowing like it was. You’re considering going under the covers, but when Remus comes back he grabs one of his sweaters, passing it to you wordlessly as he plugs in your heating pad. The knowingness of the gesture warms your heart, and you wonder that you don’t see it glowing softly through the material of Remus’ sweater. He lifts up the hem, adjusting the heating pad over your stomach before letting it fall back in place. You widen your eyes at him pitifully, and Remus smiles as he leans down, obliging you with a sweet, lingering kiss before he sits on the bed and takes your leg in his hands.

“It’s here, yeah?” he asks, pressing his fingertips to the taut muscles underneath your thigh.

“Mhm.”

“Alright, love, just straighten your leg out for me.”

“Rem.”

“Hm?”

You flush. “Can you not talk like that, please? I mean, right after?”

Remus’ smile is sheepish, but you don’t think you imagine the glint of smugness in his amber eyes. “Sorry, darling.”

You extend your leg on the bed, and Remus begins to knead at it, testing the stiffness of your muscles and then working it out with long, skilled fingers still sticky with sex. You make a sound in the back of your throat when he pushes at a particularly tight area, and Remus coos, dipping his head to drop a light, conciliatory kiss to the top of your thigh.

“My poor, lovely thing,” he murmurs, resuming his ministrations even more gently than before. “Didn’t mean to put so much strain on you.”

“Remus, please, I asked you to,” you sigh.

“Shh, darling. I’m talking to your leg.”

You make a sound of startled amusement, but Remus keeps his composure, his expression grave as he sets down your thigh and moves to your other side, starting on the next.

“It gets a kiss, but not me?” you ask, suffusing your tone with a good helping of neediness.

“You’ve already had a kiss,” he reminds you, but doesn’t hold out more than a second after you pout, leaning over and taking your face in his hand. He squeezes your cheeks together, keeping your lips pushed out for him as he presses a kiss there, to your cheek, to your forehead. “My poor. Lovely. Girl,” he says between each one, dropping once more to your lips for good measure. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes.” You smile, not caring that it’s all mushed up in his hand. “But only if you mean it.”

He rolls his eyes, feigning benevolence, but he can no longer suppress the lopsided curve of his lips. “I mean it,” he sighs. “Do you think I’d be offering you free reign of my chocolate stores if I didn’t mean it?”

You brighten. “Really?’

“Just for tonight,” he says sternly, but it’s all for show. He’ll give you anything you want, whenever it pleases you.

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euphoricfilter · 1 year

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“you cant chew on that, baby” Yoongi. Hybrid, daechwita (wth does tyrant Yoongi call his lover hm. +somehow fit in yandere? It’s ok if you choose not to lol) -🖤

the life of a tyrant:

pairing: yandere tyrant! yoongi x dog hybrid! reader

genre: fluff || daechwita au || yandere au || non-idol au || hybrid au

summary: it’s hard to hide you from the world when you’re on the run.

word count: 1k

tags/ warnings: yandere yoongi who's actually a huge softie, cutie puppy! reader, murder and blood, intentional lowercase

notes: prompt from this drabble game <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

you hadn't been into the heart of the town since Yoongi had picked you up off the streets years ago; the prettiest little diamond in the dirt. his only treasure, his one true love.

your freedom was that of a wild bird, wings clipped and confined to a cage of precious gold the moment you had taken Yoongi's hand, solidifying your soul with his, your very being belonging to him.

where he promised the world, in his little run down cabin, tattered clothing and the few gold coins in his pocket. holding all the answers to your problems in his rough hands that touched you like you were worth more than any jewel worthy of the king. and eyes that held an oath of the love you so craved, every fibre of his being simply existing for you.

in his eyes, the less the world saw of you, the better; his precious secret.

in all honesty, Yoongi didn't really have a choice when his face was plastered all throughout the country as one of the most sought after criminals.

though that felt like a little lie, an excuse even, when truly he knew the real reason for keeping you locked away in the cabin. you were ever so pretty, hybrid ears soft like the finest silk and face ever so kissable he really couldn't help himself, because as much as he knew it would become a burden lugging around another person, you'd had him wrapped around your precious little finger since the first time meeting.

it hadn't been hard to break you down, rough exterior merely for show, natural selection could really roughen up soft things like you. nothing a little bit of his love couldn't fix. it was cute how you'd tried to act like a big dog when truly he knew how much a puppy you were; who loves to get her ears scratched and laid over his lap of an evening until his fingers would brush through your hair and you'd shiver as he skims over the base of your tail.

Yoongi always been a little greedy, love always a little selfish, always wanting more than he deserved in this life, and maybe that's how he found himself in this position; his head worth more than any flashy piece of gold trickets the king could dream of buying for his may concubine that lay abandoned in his bedroom, a mere show to placate them of his absence.

you'd never been fussy when it came to Yoongi's plethora of rules.

when he isn't home, you never open the door if anyone were to knock, hide in the bedroom if anyone lurks around the forest, and when he takes you out to let off some steam- you never leave his sight, ever.

you never minded, because he made sure to let you run around the cabin three times a day, never once complaining about the sticky loneliness that clung onto your heart when he'd venture into town for food or new clothes. because Yoongi had already done enough for you, and you refused to become any more of a burden.

the life of a tyrant wasn't always quiet mornings with his pup, not always fishing in the river where really you had no qualms about chasing after any fish that caught your attention, nor the wet hugs that would follow as you smiled up at him, always brighter then the morning sun. your kisses warm as a spring breeze would caress both your skin until you were shivering and he'd wrap you in his arms without a care in the world.

the life of a tyrant isn't one that yoongi really wanted you to experience, your body too precious to be travelling so far in such a short amount of time, skin too fragile that the air of any foul man shouldn't ever think to even breath in your direction.

"you can't chew on that, baby" Yoongi pulls the string of the leather pouch from between your teeth, gold coins jingling from the force, "it's yucky"

his nose turns up at the man on the ground, pudgy hand still wrapped around his thick neck in an attempt to stop himself from bleeding out on the floor of his pathetic little fruit shop.

said man's eyes were still wide open in shock, mouth fallen open in what Yoongi can only assume to be excruciating pain, little glint of hope fizzling out, flame reaching the end of the wick as he'd begun to realise that this was the end for him.

it had been pitiful how the sick son a bitch had turned to you for help when him gazing at you had been the sole reason for his untimely death, but Yoongi supposes it had been fun to shove a blade in the back of his neck a second time just for the fun of it. niggling rage of the king's men galloping their way to his little cabin finally escalating; a shame that the poor shop owner had been at the burning end of his anger.

truthfully, Yoongi had been a little surprised you hadn't said anything. wondering if maybe this was the part of your story when you turn on him like the rest of the world, something a little humorous in the way you'd been more worried about his scent now that of the bastard that painted the floor red rather than the fact your Yoongi had killed a man before your very eyes without even a lick of shame.

"you asked me to hold onto it though" you frown, lips tugging down into the most kissable pout.

now, Yoongi was a weak man.

he bends down, pressing a sweet kiss to your pouty lips, "off the floor, pup, you'll get blood on your clothes and i don't have for you to change into right now"

sluggishly you push yourself to stand, "how much longer until we go home?" you whine, arms wrapping around his neck when he bends down, patting his back, ready for you to climb on, "my legs ache"

"just a little longer, puppy. how about you choose a snack for the way? i'll do all the hard bits, all you have to do is be pretty for me, yeah?

🌱 thank you for reading!!

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

#bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi fic #yoongi imagine #bts x female reader #bts hybrid au #bts hybrid fanfic #bts hybrid fic #bts hybrid x reader #bts x reader #bts non idol au #bts au #bts yandere #yandere yoongi #bts smut

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llamagoddessofficial · 11 months

Text

Thank you @aizawasluckylady for this commission!! I love this twist on Siren Red. What's the twist? Well... you'll have to read to find out <3

---

“Mom. I made a new friend.”

You looked up from your meal. Your daughter was picking out her greens, as any seven year old would. But you were so taken aback by her statement that, for once, you didn’t think to mention it.

... You put your fork down. “Oh. You... did?”

Another parent would’ve been less shocked, for certain- probably not even shocked at all. But you had a good reason to be so confused.

She nodded with the confidence only a child could have. “I met him near the beach.”

Near the beach?

You and your daughter lived in a very small coastal village built across an island. Though the island was certainly well within the reach of the mainland (swimming distance, at low tide it was barely worth getting the boats out of the harbour) the community was cut off, and incredibly tight-knit. It was the kind of place where nothing happened, and everyone knew everyone.

There were only a handful of local children; all of whom your daughter Sapphy had known her entire life. There weren’t any other friends for her to make. The group of around twelve would go out to play together, in the complete safety of a town surrounded by beaches where crime just wasn’t a thing. And sure, they had fights- all groups of children did. But they still all considered each other friends.

... So how had she made a new friend?

“... That’s nice.” She had your full attention. “What’s his name?”

“His name’s Red.”

...

You glanced away. You didn’t know anyone in town with that name. And as a single mother, you knew everyone’s names. She continued to eat, oblivious to the healthy amount of concern starting to build inside you.

“Is... is Red his nickname?” You asked, gently. You didn’t want to frighten her, or make her think she was in trouble, in case she decided to stop talking.

“Hm... I don’t know." She was talking with her mouth full. "I can ask him tomorrow.”

“Is he someone’s dad?”

“No. He doesn’t live in the village. But he likes to visit when it’s rainy.”

... Your mind was racing. ‘Doesn’t live in town’? Did a passing fisherman talk to her, and just say they were friends to be polite? Red, Red... no, I definitely don’t know a fisherman called Red. Maybe one of the kids changed their name? But then she would’ve just said someone changed their name. She wouldn’t have expressed that it was a ‘new’ friend.

You continued. “... Is he an imaginary friend?”

Sapphy got a look on her face that said ‘ugh, mom, you’re silly’.

“No, mom. I’m too grown up for imaginary friends. Red is real.”

...

The only other option you could think of was...

... That wasn’t possible.

You tried to keep your expression easygoing, even as your thoughts became more and more tumultuous. If she was talking to a siren, it wouldn’t have been so friendly as to introduce itself to her. A close encounter with a siren would’ve resulted in it ignoring her, or killing her. Even thinking about the second option made you feel too sick to keep eating. The sirens in the waters around the island had a truce with the locals- a famous truce, at that, from hundreds of years ago. Sirens and humans, on your island, quite happily left each other completely alone.

(They only went after stupid tourists who treated the island like a personal play park, ignoring the very clear ‘do not swim’ signs.)

... Besides. If a siren was going to try to charm someone, it would be a beautiful sailor or a lonely maiden. What would a siren want with your kid?

You smiled. “I’m glad you made a friend. Is he nice?”

“Yes.” She visibly brightened. “He’s very nice. He makes jokes about fish. They’re not very good but they’re still funny.”

“... Could I meet him?”

Her smile grew even more. “Yeyeah! He said he’s seen you at the beach before. He said he wants to meet you too. And, and he said he’d like to be friends with you too. You’re gonna like him too. He’s very cool. He has a gold tooth."

Hm. Well, the fact that he wanted to meet you made you feel less nervous. Someone with bad intentions would most likely be trying to keep things a secret. Perhaps it was an imaginary friend after all? She was around that age. She’d never had one before, maybe now was the time. And with a name like ‘Red’...

“Could I come with you tomorrow, then? To go meet him.”

“Yeah! We can go to the rocks after breakfast!”

She was beaming. It made you relax a bit.

There was no need to worry- it was probably an imaginary friend after all.

///---///

“Mom, it’s really important that I go first on my own, okay?” She looked up at you, full of all the worldly seriousness of a small child. The sea wind was tussling her hair, the sounds of the beachgoers muffled behind layers of cliffs. “Red only comes out when it’s just me."

She had taken you down a steep rock path that lead to a very isolated, very quiet cove, hidden from view on all sides. You were completely relaxed about the whole situation now; this was a lovely place to make a secret hideout out of.

“All on your own? You’re very grown up.”

Her little chest swelled with pride, and she nodded resolutely. “Ok. You stay right there, behind these rocks. I’ll go wait for Red.”

She let go of your hand. You let her go, watching her move confidently over to the water. She found an edge that only a few inches above the sea line- there, she sat down, crossing her legs to wait.

... You assumed she needed some time for dramatic effect, to get into the game. So you settled behind the rock. Your eyes naturally wandered off, admiring the jagged cliff face around you, the clear blue sky overhead, the seabirds wheeling around each other.

...

“Red!” She said, excitedly. For a moment, the delight in her voice made you smile.

... Then you heard the distinct sound of something very large moving in the water.

What?

You jumped, coming back out from behind the rock, your gaze immediately snapping back over to your child.

... Your heart stopped.

Sapphy was still sitting on the ledge, right by the water. In front of her was a massive skeleton monster.

His chest alone as big as she was tall. He had his hands on either side of her; the same way you would’ve put your hands on either side to stop her from falling in. You could see his razor teeth, the cruel sharp edge to his phalange claws. Bloody crimson eyelights. The large curved fin on his back, the scars decorating his ribcage.

It was a siren. A huge male shark siren, close enough to your little girl to bite out her throat.

... He was smiling at her. He looked just as happy to see her as she sounded to see him. His huge violent maw, pulled into a grin that was almost loving- he was looking at her with an expression that was so gentle, so caring. You’d never known anyone else but you to give her that look. He was looking at her like she was his daughter.

...

... You weren’t thinking. Stories flashed through your mind, stories you’d forgotten until that moment. Stories of sirens becoming attached to human children and stealing them away on stormy nights. It was far from night, and far from stormy... but all you could see was a monster that wanted your baby.

At the sound of you running, his crimson eyelights flickered over to you. A glimmer of shock.

You grabbed Sapphy by the back of her shirt, sharply pulling her away from the edge, away from him- and in a flurry of pure parental instinct... you balled up your fist, and punched him.

You punched him. Right in the skull.

Pain immediately ricocheted from your knuckles and up your hand, because of course, it was a TERRIBLE idea to hit solid bone like that. You'd basically just punched a rock at full pelt. But you were still just running on pure adrenaline. You picked your daughter up, high out of the siren’s reach, staggering back a few steps- what was he going to do next? Was he going to attack?

...

He was looking at you. His eyelights were starry. Awed. And a ruby colour had spread across his cheekbones, like... a blush.

“... you punched me.” He said, breathlessly.

///---///

Red knew, deep in his Soul, that you and Sapphy were his family.

... His feelings started out simple enough. A particularly strong infatuation with you- a pretty human that made his non-existent heart sing. He had spotted you one evening, sitting by the harbour with your legs hanging over the edge and your hair moving gently in the wind... he’d instantly tumbled head over fin. Who wouldn’t? He hadn’t felt such an instant attraction to anyone in a long time, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t returned to the island’s shores inbetween hunts in the hopes that he would catch another glimpse of you.

He’d had crushes before, though. He hadn’t thought anything of how enarmoured he was with you. Sure, the feelings were intense, but he it hadn't occurred to him that it was anything out of the ordinary- anything particularly special.

... One morning, you came to the edge of the rocks again. He happened to be there already. In one hand, you had a bucket with a crab fishing line... in the other, you held the tiny hand of your equally tiny daughter.

Red had never been one for children. He found them loud, tiring, too needy.

... But... then he looked at her. The small human with her hand in yours. He heard her voice, full of excitement at the most inconsequential things. He saw the incredible pride in her eyes when she held aloft the crab she caught- a tiny thing, barely bigger than her palm. He felt the gentleness in the smile that you gave her.

...

The ache in Red’s chest was unfamiliar. He wanted... to hug her. He wanted to pick her up. He wanted to tuck her close and tell her everything was going to be okay... make bad jokes that made her giggle. He wanted her to smile at him, put her tiny hand in his.

He got the dawning, overwhelming feeling that he'd do anything to keep her safe.

Just like that, he finally got why so many siren mothers fought to the death for their children. He’d do the same.

You picked her up to take her home. Seeing you with your daughter in your arms sparked emotions inside him that he didn’t have words powerful enough to describe. In that moment, Red knew his feelings for you went deeper than a simple infatuation. Deeper than anything he’d ever felt before. It didn’t matter that he was an ocean being, and you and here were relegated to the land; there were more than enough stories of sirens using their magic to solve that particular issue. You were his mate, your little daughter was his child. There wasn’t much else to it, in his mind.

... His family. His mate, his child.

...

... Red knew he had to take the introduction slowly. Relations between sirens and humans weren’t exactly wonderful; as desperate as he was to profess his love for you, approaching you first would be disastrous. You were wary, wonderfully intelligent, and well within your right to be greatly suspicious of any friendliness a random shark siren may show you.

... But human children were sweet. Open-minded, naive.

Things had gone so well with Sapphy. She thought he was cool- she laughed at his shitty jokes, gleefully poked at his golden tooth, and he successfully held himself back from telling her about how he was her dad now. He had never felt so fulfilled before.

...

He should’ve expected that his good luck with her would come at the expense of his luck with you.

Here he was. His cheekbone stung. His mate was bristling with anger, and his baby could sense her mother’s emotions- so now, she was frightened too, slowly undoing the work he’d already done to get her to trust him. Red knew he should’ve been panicked, racing through situations in his mind, racing through ways to win you both back.

...

... But all he could feel, looking at your beautiful angry face, was attraction.

Perhaps it was the shark in him, drawn to displays of aggression. You’d punched him. You, a little human woman, completely on her own... at the sight of your daughter in possible danger you had run up to a shark siren and hit it- hit him- square in the face. How could that not make his Soul shudder in his chest? He felt like his love was well-placed.

Besides. The situation was far from unsalvageable.

“hey... hey.” He kept his tone even, trying to shake off the wave of adoration he felt. focus, red, focus. He held up his hands. “it’s okay. easy.”

“Get away from her!” You were frightened, he could tell. More angry than frightened, though. Hopped up on adrenaline and the kind of parental instinct he knew to be wary of.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you.” He lowered into the water more, to appear less large and intimidating. “it’s nice to finally meet you. i’m red.”

You were shaking. But you were also noticeably confused, probably not expecting him to be polite. Hopefully he could get the confusion to trump the anger.

“you’re her mom, right?” He smiled. “can sea the resemblance. you’ve got the same eyes.”

“What do you want?” You snapped, sharply, missing the joke.

He paused. What did he want? He couldn’t answer you honestly yet. He’d need a few hours to explain fully, and another month at least of bonding to ensure you wouldn’t take it the wrong way and run.

“... just a conversation.” He said. Half true.

You didn’t believe him. It was written all over your pretty face. He kept his voice very, very gentle, trying to lay on the charm.

“c’mon. you’re okay. we both know that if i wanted to do somethin’, i already would’ve.”

“You can’t do anything.” You pulled Sapphy in tighter. “The treaty.”

“... exactly.” As if he’d ever hurt either of you. “if i wanted a meal i would go somewhere else. somewhere with more idiot tourists.”

You exhaled sharply from your nose, jaw shifting. You didn’t take your eyes off him, not even for a moment- but he could tell that you (at least) agreed with his dislike of disrespectful tourists.

... A crease appeared between his brow bones, the waves lapping softly around his body. He had one more card to play- he didn’t want to play it, it felt scummy. But he was more afraid of losing his chance with his family than he was of the moral implications of the tactics he used.

He let his expression soften even more.

“... i’m a siren. not an animal. i don’t just go around killin’ and eatin’ everything i see, y’know? i don’t want to hurt you. or your kid.”

... There was a delay. But... slowly, a small amount of guilt seemed to dawn over you.

He was getting through.

Sapphy, still cuddled against your chest, spoke up.

“... Mom. Red’s my friend.”

You looked at her. Your face wobbled, like you couldn’t decide whether to be angry or not, but your voice came out stern. “You didn’t tell me he was a siren. We’re talking about this, later.”

“don’t be mad at her. she’s just tryna kelp me out.”

...

Sapphy’s face lit up, a smile that allowed hope to settle in his chest again. She wasn’t afraid of him- she still liked him. He had that small victory, at least.

You didn’t laugh at his joke. You were staring.

“i’m the gill-ty one here.” He continued. “it’s not her fault she didn’t think some-fin fishy was going on.”

This time, Sapphy giggled aloud.

“See, mom?” She looked up at you. “I told you he makes bad jokes.”

As her eyes turned to you, so did his. He was delighted to see that you had visibly eased. Though he would’ve liked to have chalked it up to his humoiur, he knew it was probably your daughter’s laughter. The sound of her joy was infectious.

... You quickly hardened again, though. “We’re leaving. We’re going to talk about this at home.”

Her little face fell. “What? But...”

“it’s ok, kid.” Red said, gently. “listen to your mom.”

...

Funnily enough, after everything, it was that that seemed to soften you. You gave him a glance that was far less sharp than anything you’d given before, as if despite all your suspicions and reservations you were still appreciative of his gesture. Although he definitely missed the aggression, still unable to help himself but be drawn to it, he much preferred this gentler glance.

...

You spoke reservedly. Trying not to let any emotion show. “I’m... sorry I punched you. Red.”

“... it’s okay.” He let his grin widen a bit. “i hope your hand is okay.”

With that, you turned, starting to walk away.

Though his logical side tried to calm him (they live on an island, they can’t get far) he still felt panic, deep down, at the sight of you leaving with her in your arms. His mate and baby were moving away from him. no. please don’t go. please don’t take her away from me.

... Nothing his logic could’ve said, however, soothed him more than the sight of Sapphy happily waving goodbye to him over your shoulder.

#commissions #siren sanses #siren red is one of my favourites for obvious reasons #as far as sirens go hes pretty well adjusted

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astrologanize · 3 months

Text

◉ pick a card : how you can make the best of your 2024

*please take a moment to take a deep breath and choose the image you are !most! drawn towards*

----------for pile 1 ⊹

there is a search for substance in your life, you want something real, something meaningful, and you're not doing anything to create it for yourself. you're secretly, or not so secretly, hoping and wishing and expecting for things to somehow fall into place one day. you keep yourself open to the universe, you keep yourself open to interpretation, and you are so open that you are structureless! how can the universe deliver whatever you're desiring when you don't know what that is? or even who you are!

unfortunately the key to it all isn't going to fall into your lap - you must sort through the emotional gunk that's residing within your inner tank and decipher what it is you want to be, what your values are, what matters to you, so that you can hand-pick the life that you want by having these standards in place. it's easier to take risks and to change your life once you have assurance in yourself and this can only happen when you know what you are vs what you aren't, what you like vs what you don't, etc.

gotta work hard to play hard too! "ugh i just want to travel and have a good time" okay but where are the funds coming from? do you know how to budget? do you know how to set up a trip? do you know how to procure the necessary steps in order to make the shit you want happen? to make the best of your 2024 you need to sort through your gunk and get choosier about your life; in doing so you're going to find your connections with others changing, you're going to understand where you've been lacking integrity, where you have been naive, what's worth adjusting for, what you need to attend to more, and once you have the framework built for yourself you're going to see how exciting life can be. no more waiting for life!

----------for pile 2 ⊹

so i see y'all like to throw everything at the wall until something sticks perchance...well, i mean, i guess you're trying at least? though that is better than doing nothing at all, how about you scale back and look at the big picture? you do all these things but where do they get you? i'm not seeing forward movement amongst all this movement i'm just seeing energy bouncing around in a box not going anywhere. perhaps all this stuff you do is to distract you from things you don't want to deal with. it's giving this meme

crazily enough, it is often true that less really is more (though in today's society that sentiment is going extinct and needs to be revived). try to stop dabbling in everything - a jack of all trades is a master to none. what activities/hobbies would you like to be an expert at? is there a craft you could or would want to monetize? what is it that you're avoiding in your life with these multitudes of distractions? give yourself a breather so that you can see the big picture clearer. you'll come to understand the value in setting healthy boundaries for yourself, knowing when to extend and when to just relax. sometimes it is okay to hold off and hold back because maybe there is something that needs to be dealt with first, maybe more time is needed, maybe something is just not worth the effort for now

----------for pile 3 ⊹

looking at the image for this pile gave me such a heavy, wistful feeling. why do you insist on fighting the universe so bad, hm?

are you in a job that sucks? seek something better! are you in a relationship that feels like a chore? love yourself! lean elsewhere! are you majoring in something that makes you miserable? is it worth that? i'm seeing that you need to learn how to trust the universe and follow a new, less traveled path that may be daunting with its uncertainty but you never know what could happen...that is both the best and worst thing about life.

thus far you have been traveling down the same path, you are very involved with this life that you have been trying to make work but i don't know if it's working, do you?

i'm hearing "give yourself a try" by the 1975!

you're learning allllll about the possibilities of life this year and why you should not in fact settle for what you are too afraid to leave. your heart is yours to follow

----------for pile 4 ⊹

oh, y'all take things to heart in an unhealthy way and are perpetually dissatisfied as a result. i imagine someone who gets in their feels over something minor that someone said in passing and instead of asking for clarification or reasoning with themselves, they act all woe is me and curl up in their room with the misbelief that nothing and no one gets them.

emotions can be deeply felt and i wouldn't say feelings can be liars per se but feelings can mislead us if we read too much into them. plus, when we focus too heavily on our own feelings we become engrossed in them to the point of self-defeating self-absorption. you have got to learn how to take things less personally, your lesson for this year is to learn how to socialize...how to mingle...how to have acquaintances...how to have a conversation and drop it afterwards instead of reading into every little thing and finding what's wrong with it. learning how to be embrace the more positive qualities of aquarius basically.

you have some misguidings to work through, there is illusory amuck due to you making mountains out of molehills - the melodrama is doing nothing good for you i'm afraid, tumblr girlies do love some tragedy and a feeling-dump post but for now...let's free ourselves i beg. it's not that deep, it's not that serious, get a grip and let it go. get off the internet, limit social media, touch grass, find some people to converse with even if its small talk at a checkout, somethin, otherwise you can continue to wallow i guess.

----------for pile 5 ⊹

nah...this pile gave me such a bad headache because...you're....whew......there's some narcissistic tendencies here i'm afraid. even if you think you're an angel sweetheart birthed from mary the unicorn, i assure you that you can in fact be a nothing short of domineering. there is a diva energy, there is a my way or the highway energy, there is an i'm upset so everyone is going to know energy, there is some area in your life where you are a tyrant.

there is a dire need to learn to take a step back, gather yourself, and consider others before unleashing your control and bulldozing your way through situations. you shall be forced to learn how to chill tf out this year and i claim that for you tbh because giving me a headache from your energy is WILD.

you need to examine your connections and make sure you're being receptive towards others. do you feel like you're a true friend to them? do you think you're supportive? do you hear them out? do you know what they're going through? do you know how they feel? do you attend to them in the ways they want and need? do you know what those wants and needs are?

make sure you're not being demanding and setting unreasonable expectations, especially for others. also look within yourself and make sure you're not overcompensating for any insecurities you may possess by having power trips. care about being a friend this year, play the supporting role and balance yourself out

----------for pile 6 ⊹

you're going in circles in your head and your heart, babes. eventually you just gotta rip off the bandaid and make a decision and let the chips fall where they may.

you're waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay in your head, you have all these thoughts and ideas, you have all these feelings and sentiments, you have all these things in mind that you want to set up for yourself, and there's so much that you're overloading yourself....there's no way to process all of it at once so nothing is getting done.

make decisions, find answers, get a grip on your feelings, and try to make sure you're not so in your head that you're putting up a guard around yourself. not everything is black & white or a matter of life or death, you're looking at it too extremely! lighten up and just do.

get a cool haircut, get some new accessories, try new boba, talk to your crush, life is meant to be lived!

#pick a card #readings #long post #2024

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calaisreno · 21 days

Text

Cake

1146 words / Prompt: Laugh

Have some cake. It's my birthday.

Sherlock picks up his fork and examines the slice of cake before him. It’s yellow, with thick white icing and colourful sprinkles.

John and Molly have already tasted their pieces and are talking about something. John makes a teasing remark about hearing aids. Apparently Sherlock has missed the question.

“Hm?”

John smiles at him. It’s a fond smile, but a sad one. Sherlock tries to remember the last time John looked happy. It’s been ages, he thinks. Even the smile on his face now isn’t truly happy.

His wedding, maybe. He did smile a lot that day, but there was something ragged underneath. A kind of exhausted cheer. The days leading up the event were hectic, but it was worth it to give John and Mary a joyous day. Maybe it was relief Sherlock saw in those wedding smiles. Glad to have the big day go well, ready to wake up to a new life.

The day Rosie was born, John’s smile was incredulous, full of wonder. But Sherlock could see he was terrified, too. It was the day it all became real, irrevocable. There was no going back for him and Mary. Nor for Sherlock. John was a father, and had responsibilities.

Unmingled joy. That’s what Sherlock is trying to remember.

That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done.

And you invaded Afghanistan.

It was the first time he heard John helpless with laughter. They’d stood inside the front door, leaning against the wall, giggling at the ridiculousness of what they’d just done, running through alleys and across rooftops. Welcome to London.

It was the moment when he first realised he wanted to kiss John. He wanted to hear that giggle of surrender again. To laugh every day with John and keep him forever.

It might have lasted, if Sherlock hadn’t created a problem that could only be solved by dying, leaving John alone for two years.

He’d dreamed of coming home, hearing John laugh at his brilliant resurrection. He’d been so intent on that, he hadn’t realised. It may have been necessary to go away, but his return wasn’t as brilliant as he’d dreamed.

Well, then. Neither of them has been happy.

“You haven’t even tasted it,” John is saying.

“Oh.” He lifts a bite to his mouth, smells vanilla, feels the icing melt on his tongue. “Delicious.” It is, and he takes another bite, even though he’s not hungry.

John is smiling at him.

He can’t stop thinking about John’s tears, just a half an hour ago in the flat.

I’m not the man you thought I was.

It’s not okay.

Well, it is what it is. John hasn’t been happy for a long time, he thinks.

Though they never spoke of it, he knows John had mixed feelings about the marriage. A part of him loved Mary, but even though he forgave her, he never forgot: what have I ever done… my whole life… to deserve you?

Mary wasn’t supposed to be like that. But she was.

Sherlock wasn’t supposed to come back, but he did.

John was supposed to be happy. He wasn’t.

Sometimes he thinks John might have been happy if Sherlock had stayed dead. He would have got over his best friend dying in front of him. He would have married and lived in the suburbs with his wife and child. His wife wouldn’t have shot Sherlock, and she wouldn’t have died, trying to protect him. He wouldn’t be raising his child alone.

He eats his cake silently, pressing his fork into the last crumbs.

“You’ve been quiet,” John says as they walk back to 221B.

“Hm.”

“About earlier… I’m sorry.” He huffs a small laugh. “Mood killer, for sure.”

He stops walking. “John.”

John is two paces ahead by the time Sherlock says his name. He turns and looks at Sherlock, puzzled. “What is it?”

“Are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” He gives a short, bitter laugh. “What does happiness have to do with anything? Are you happy?”

“Well, no one can be happy all the time. But I consider myself an optimistic person. I expect I will be happy again.”

“Are you…” John licks his lips. “Will you contact her?”

“No. She knows what I am, and doesn’t expect it.”

“Sherlock, I know I was pushing when I said you should… I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want that. I just wish you weren’t so alone.”

“Not so alone. I have you.”

Sherlock resumes walking; John falls into step with him.

“Yeah, a great friend I’ve been.”

“You’re not perfect, John. Neither am I. You shouldn’t hold yourself to an impossibly high standard. Happiness is more important. Do you know,” he says, turning to look at John, “some of my happiest moments have been spent with you.”

John sighs. “We’ve had some good times. I’ll never forget the months we lived together. You saved me. I was so lost, so alone…” Glancing at Sherlock, he smiles wistfully. “Do you remember that night, when we were chasing the cab, and I forgot my cane at the restaurant?” He giggles. “Oh, God. Down alleys, across the rooftops. Welcome to London. That was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever done.”

Sherlock smiles. “Wanna see some more?”

“What are you saying?” John halts.

Sherlock turns and faces him. “Come back. Move in with me, you and Rosie.”

John is gazing at him, his eyes soft. “Do you know what I wished for that night?”

“What did you wish, John?”

He looks down at his feet. “I wished… that I could spend the rest of my days running after you, trying to keep up. Giggling at crime scenes, running all over London, coming home and sitting in the evenings…” He sighs. “It can’t be like it was before. I have a child.”

“Another adventure I look forward to. We’ll hire a nanny, solve all the boring cases, and you’ll write them up for the blog. We’ll be together.” He puts his hands on John’s shoulders. “Come back to me.”

John shakes his head gravely. “You don’t know what you’re asking. Rosie’s a baby, and soon she’ll be toddling around, getting into everything.”

“That’s what babies do. They grow into children, and eventually leave home. And you’ll miss her then. I want to see her grow up, too. I want to be there when you send her off to uni. I want to help plan her wedding, hold your first grandchild. I want to retire to a cottage in Sussex with you and keep bees.”

“Bees?”

“Yes, John. Do keep up. If you don’t like bees, you ought to have plenty of cases to write up by then.”

John brushes tears from his eyes. “What are you saying?”

In answer, he puts his arms around John. “You said love would complete me as a human being. I’m saying, it already has.”

#mayprompts2024

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mollymagician · 1 year

Text

Hob Gadling talked to himself, sometimes. When he was alone.

It was a habit, he’d say in the rare times he’d been caught at it. Silly habit. Just ignore me. Hashing things out with my own self. A white lie. Himself wasn’t who he was hashing anything out with. Hob spoke to his Stranger, sometimes. When he was alone.

There was never enough time in their brief meetings, was there, to package a hundred years worth of the world into words. The great story arcs made the cut, but in between the little stories got told anyway. In any quiet part of the day when he found himself alone, Hob would catch some of the details spilling out of him. He practiced sometimes, the particulars of a good tale he was afraid he wouldn’t remember. He couldn’t keep it all, but maybe, he thought, his Stranger could hear him. Sometimes.

A centuries-long habit, one he had despaired of ever breaking, though he’d realized recently that he wasn’t doing it anymore.

Because the thing was, when hob spoke to him aloud-spoke to the idea, the wish of him-over all those centuries, it was always as though he hovered just over his shoulder. A quiet aside to an imagined presence that could in truth be anywhere, but somehow lived in his mind and heart just behind and to the left of him, only just out of sight.

It takes him a little time to realize that this is where Dream stands now, more often than not— when he follows Hob up the stairs from the pub in the evenings after they’ve had too much to drink, laughing, a steadying hand planted between Hob’s shoulders— when he followed him, all newly human, into Situations and Experiences that Hob was determined he try—when he pads up silently beside him in the dim early morning kitchen, to wrap his arms around Hob’s middle. Like today.

He seems to have found that spot, a patch of reality worn threadbare by hundreds of years of quiet longing, and slipped into it unknowing.

“How did you know that was there, hm?” Hob murmurs drowsily, tea kettle in one hand and eyes barely open. “That spot was just for you.”

Dream rested his chin on one warm shoulder and hummed. They swayed a bit, half-asleep.

Dreams breath puffed against his ear (real. real now) and murmured, “Thank you for saving me a place.”

#Dreamling #retired!dream #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman netflix #I am very sleepy and they are not helping #my writing

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neonghostlights · 1 year

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Chapter One: A Breakup, a Missing Person, and a Business Trip

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson left you behind to chase his dreams before suddenly disappearing. When he shows up 5 years later, will he be able to work his way back into your heart?

Warnings: Breakups, Betrayal, Arguments, Eddie is immature, Missing person, Mention of cops, Annoying flirty coworker, Reader is wearing a dress and heels, Brief mention of anaphylactic shock (doesn't really happen it's just mentioned), Brief mention of a heart attack (doesn't really happen it's just mentioned) Food/Eating, Alcohol, Reader and Eddie are in early 20s in ‘86, are in mid 20’s in ‘91. This series is 18+, Minors DNI

Word Count: 3.8k

Series Masterlist

July 1986

When you were finally able to form a sentence again you took the chance to ask the question at the forefront of your mind.

“How long?”

“Hm?” He hummed like he hadn’t heard you at all.

Suddenly, shoving clothes into a trashbag was the most interesting thing in the world to him. You knew he was avoiding you; avoiding the damage he was doing.

“How long have you known you were leaving?” You bit out. Any patience you had for him was long gone.

“Uh, well, a couple of weeks,” he said, still refusing to make eye contact.

“When you say ‘a couple of weeks’ you mean-”

“A month. I’ve known for a month.” Finally, he lifted his head to look at you. He stepped away from the half full trash bag and ran a hand through his hair, bangs sticking to his forehead from the exertion of his speed packing.

It had been a month since Eddie had met a woman at The Hideout who claimed to be a big shot music producer. She had made big promises for him and the band, telling them that if they follow her out to California then she can make their wildest dreams come true. Of course, this had happened on the one Tuesday you weren’t there.

Of course Eddie would choose her and her promises over you.

“You’ve known you were leaving for a month and you just didn’t say anything to me? Did the last three years mean nothing to you?” You yelled, rage taking over any ounce of control that you had.

You had never yelled at Eddie before. You can’t even remember a time when you two had ever argued in the past three years you had been together.

Patience had always been your virtue. You were patient when he took three years to graduate. You were patient when he would sell drugs for Rick instead of getting a real job. You were patient when he would be late for dates because Hellfire or band practice ran over. You were patient all of the times you dragged him home drunk and belligerent from The Hideout.

You were patient with all things that were Eddie Munson. All you had done for the past three years was give and give during your relationship and he never considered doing the same for you. And maybe that was your own mistake for allowing it.

Eddie winced at your raised voice, something he had never heard before.

“This isn’t how this was supposed to go,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“Oh really? Then what was your grand plan? You dump me and run off into the sunset and just expect me to be okay with it?” You didn’t yell this time, but your voice was still harsh.

“You’re not listening. I am not just dumping you. This is a great opportunity for the band, for us.” He took a step towards you, you took a step back. He looked at the distance between the two of you and let out a deep sigh. “When I make it big and start bringing some money in then I’ll come back for you. We just need to be apart for a little bit but I promise I’ll come back for you. Go to that big fancy college and just wait for me. I promise it will be worth it.”

You couldn’t even process the stupidity of what he was saying to you.

Sometimes it amazed you how both you and Eddie were twenty years old, but the maturity levels differed greatly between the two of you. Eddie was a dreamer, you were more practical.

There was nothing wrong with him dreaming but where it went wrong was how he jumped head first into things without thinking.

You and Eddie had started dating during your only senior year, his first, and after you graduated you stayed in Hawkins to go to community college. Now that you had your associate's degree, you were going to a nicer university to receive your bachelors.

The university wasn’t far. Initially the plan was for Eddie to get a real job and move with you while you finished school. It wasn’t your idea but his, and he had seemed excited. So what changed?

You were so angry. All of the love you two had shared over the past three years was for nothing. All of the times he would tell you how much he loved you and how he planned to marry you one day when he got himself together had been a big fat lie.

You had never felt so betrayed.

“Grow up, Eddie. You expect me to sit around and wait for you while you live the rockstar lifestyle for a few years and get it out of your system.” You snapped.

“That’s not true,” he denied. “I’ll call you, depending on how busy I am with the tour. We don’t have to be strangers. I’m just asking you to wait for me.”

You stared at him blankly for a moment, taking him in for what was probably going to be the last time.

A horn honked outside, breaking you from your trance.

“Don’t bother calling me. I don’t want to see or hear from you ever again,” you said as you stepped around him and headed for his bedroom door.

“You don’t mean that. I thought out of everyone you would be the most understanding.” He called out behind you with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

He didn’t chase after you or take it all back as you walked out of the trailer. Part of you still expected for him to laugh and say it was all a joke. But, of course, that never happened.

Garrett, Jeff, and Grant sat on the porch and eyed you warily as you walked past. The looks on their faces told you that they already knew what had just went down.

They were Eddie’s friends first, so it doesn’t surprise you that they had chosen him over you.

But, damn, did it still hurt.

You didn’t let them see you cry as you pulled away from the trailer. You saved your tears for when you got home and threw yourself into a bedroom that was covered in memories of you and Eddie’s time together.

You promised yourself as you sobbed into your pillow that night, that you would never ever let someone break you again.

December 1986

Your socked feet danced over the shaggy rug that laid beside your twin side bed.

You didn’t plan on living in a dorm room for the remaining two years of your degree, especially since you had transferred from a community college and were so used to the freedom that came with that.

You picked up another piece of clothing from the pile beside you and folded it messily before shoving it into the open duffel bag at your feet.

The idea of going back to Hawkins, even for a few weeks, was not exciting to you. Your parents had practically begged you on the phone to come home. Your father was even daring enough to threaten a possible heart attack if you didn’t come home to visit.

It wasn’t their fault you didn’t want to return. Hawkins was an unhealed wound in your heart, the edges tender and throbbing. You feared that just crossing over the town lines would cause the edges to rip apart and bleed ferociously into your chest.

You didn’t think you’d be able to handle that, but for the sake of the holidays, you had no choice.

College had been great so far and a good distraction from your troubles. The parties that your roommate, Lissa, dragged you out to during the weekends helped to numb the pain. Lissa had taken you under her wing once you moved in and after a night with a bottle of wine, she got the pleasure of hearing the whole story of why your heart was so broken.

Ever since then, she had been on a one woman mission to cheer you up.

You tossed another piece of clothing into the duffel bag, happy that Lissa had already left to go home so she couldn’t get onto you for moping.

The door to the room was left open. Something about the heating system in this place made the rooms stuffy during the winter. You could hear the happy chatter of people walking past the entrance as they left to go home for the break, relieved that finals were over.

A ring from one of the phones outside of the room caught your attention for a second. That was another thing that you missed from living at home, having your own phone. Here they had the community phones in the hallway outside the rooms that everyone had to share.

The ringing cut off quickly, most likely from the person who was waiting for the call.

You balled up a pair of socks and tossed them into the bag. At this rate, you’d be finished packing by the time winter break was over. You threw your body back with a groan so your upper half laid flat on the bed and your legs hung off at an odd angle.

You heard a throat clear awkwardly from the doorway. Your head snapped up in surprise to see one of the girls a few doors down standing there.

“Uh, there’s someone on the phone for you,” she said.

You couldn’t even be embarrassed that she witnessed your little meltdown over packing.

“Oh? Did they say who it was?” You asked. You didn’t expect your mom and dad to call you since you were already supposed to be on the road by now. Lissa wouldn’t have a reason to call either.

“Some guy. I think he said his name was Munson.”

You sat up with a jolt. “Munson?” You asked but she had already left the doorway.

You scrambled off the bed and hurried out into the hallway to see the phone sitting off the hook and waiting for you to answer.

Eddie had never called you after he left for California. The memory of telling him not to call was still fresh. But part of you hoped he wouldn’t have listened and that he would have called anyway, even if it was just to tell you how amazing his life was now.

The petty part of you wished he regretted it and that he was coming home to make things right.

You cleared your throat and wiped your sweaty hands against your sweatshirt before you picked up the phone, praying that he hadn’t hung up yet.

“Hello?” Your voice came out breathy and weak. You wished you had pulled yourself together some more so you would sound stronger and more sure of yourself. Prove to him that college had made you forget about him.

“Hey, uh, it’s Wayne.” You pulled the phone away from your ear to look down at it for a second, hoping that it would somehow explain to you why Wayne Munson was calling you.

You and Wayne had been close when you and Eddie were together. But the last time you saw him was before the break up. You had no hard feelings for Wayne. If anything, the break up made you miss him too.

“Oh. Hey, Wayne,” you said, trying to keep the disappointment and confusion from your voice.

“I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re probably busy studying and stuff,” he started off. You fought the urge to tell him you were not busy studying at all. Wayne had been so happy for you when you told him you got accepted into this university. He was even excited for you just for starting out at a community college. “But have you heard from Eddie at all?”

The world screeched to a halt.

“Eddie? No? Why?” This time, there was no hiding the confusion.

“He didn’t come home. I don’t know if you heard that the rest of the boys in that band came home a couple of months ago with their tails between their legs. They said something about a scam and things not working out. But Eddie didn’t come back with them like he was supposed to. He ran off instead of going with them and no one has heard from him. He told me when he left he would call but he hasn’t. It’s getting close to the holidays and he has never missed Christmas and it’s making me worried.”

Wayne never was one to show much emotion, but the worry was palpable through the phone. He had every reason to be worried..

Eddie leaving you behind made sense, but Eddie leaving Wayne and not bothering to check on him was absurd. He wouldn’t just do that, right?

“Have you called the cops?” You asked immediately.

Wayne let out a humorless laugh. “Yep. Called them before I thought to check with you. Hawkins police never cared much for Eddie, as you already know. They said they can’t do anything since he didn’t go missing here. I called the police in the town he was last in and they told me that he’s an adult and he has the right to not call.”

You thought for a second, every horrible possibility racing through your mind. What if he was kidnapped or was in some sort of awful accident? What if he was out there somewhere and needed your help?

“Do you think he’s okay? Should I go out there and look for him?”

“No. Don’t do that. The last thing we need is you going out there and ending up missing yourself,” he said with a stern tone. You knew it came from a place of concern and not anger.

As much as you hated it, you knew Wayne was right. You didn’t know much about California. Wayne knew where he was last seen but odds were he wasn’t there anymore.

You leaned your head against the wall in front of you in defeat.

“What can I do, Wayne?” You begged. You and Eddie had been broken up for months but it didn’t feel right to just hang up and pretend this conversation never happened.

“Just wait and see if he calls. That’s all either of us can do for now. I’m sure he’ll come around.”

You sighed in response, not sure what else to say.

“I tried to talk him out of leaving, you know?” Wayne said after a few beats of silence. “Told him he was dumb to leave you behind. But that boy doesn’t listen when he gets an idea in his head-”

“I have to go,” you announced quickly, cutting Wayne off from whatever else he was about to say.

You couldn’t listen to it. Didn’t want to relive the heartbreak.

“Oh, right. Sorry. Take care of yourself, kid. Will you just give me a call if you hear from him?”

“Sure,” you said before another thought crossed your mind. The image of Wayne Munson spending Christmas alone in that cold trailer caused you to speak without thinking about it. “I’m actually coming back to Hawkins tonight for winter break. Did you want to meet up for lunch sometime or maybe even meet up for Christmas if he doesn’t call?”

“Sure, kid. I’d love that.”

Even though making sure Wayne was taken care of would help relieve some of your guilt, you couldn’t help but think back to when you told Eddie you didn’t want to see or hear from him ever again.

Seems like you would get your wish.

August 1991

August in California was blistering hot.

From the second you stepped off of the airplane, you were ready to get right back on and head home to Indiana to lock yourself into your air conditioned apartment in Indianapolis. At least there you would have your cat, Junie. Plus, if you went home now, Lissa wouldn’t have to feed and take care of Junie for you even though she was allergic. Honestly, you could make the excuse to get out of this trip by saying you had to save your friend from anaphylactic shock.

But if you did that then your boss would have your head.

And in order to get this promotion you really needed your head.

You had started working for this publishing company straight after college three years ago. You adored working in the business of books and were honestly lucky to get the position that you already had.

But if sucking up to your boss and attending this stupid business trip in sweltering California would help you climb the metaphorical ladder, then you would do it.

You fanned yourself as you waited in the hotel lobby for the rest of your group. The crisp white furniture and marble floors made you feel out of place. Never in a million years would you stay in a place like this on your own dime. You wondered how much it would cost for them to mop you off the floor once you melted right out of your heels.

You were immediately regretting the black wrap dress you had chosen as you felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of your neck. You wished they would have given you just one night to relax before the day full of meetings and seminars the next day.

Fancy hotels like this were supposed to have top notch A/C, right? The constant turning of the revolving door from sharp dressed business men probably canceled the promise of cool air out.

You fanned yourself again with another wave of your hand. Was it the heat getting to you or was it the blazing reminder of the last person you knew that came to this state just to never be seen again?

You shook your head, pushing the thought away from you. If you went too deep down that rabbit hole then you would never find your way back out. Unfortunately, you knew that from experience.

Even just standing in this hotel lobby made you uneasy. Although he didn’t disappear from this area, you were still on constant alert.

“You look hot.”

Vance’s voice called out as he approached. The double meaning didn’t go over your head as you continuously fanned yourself with your hand.

“Yeah, well. It’s hot in here,” you said to Vance as he approached.

Vance looked as prim and proper as he usually did with his slicked back blonde hair, collared shirt, and shiny shoes. He had started at the publishing company around the same time as you and was quickly determined to be around you at all times since you were both the newest hires.

Most of the time you didn’t mind it. He was harmless, a little annoying sometimes like a mosquito, but mostly harmless.

Lissa had heard your stories about Vances flirting and insisted you at least went on one date with him just to try it out. You didn’t think it was the best idea, especially since you worked together.

You also didn’t do serious relationships and didn’t want to give him false hope.

You could see the swarm of your coworkers and your boss cross the lobby towards you.

“Should we go ahead in there?” Vance asked, holding out his elbow for you to hold.

You rolled your eyes, before grabbing onto his arm and walking into the hotel restaurant together.

Vance and you grabbed the seats right beside each other at the very end of the table.

You had immediately breathed a sigh of relief when the crisp, cool air of the restaurant greeted you, cooling your fevered skin.

The restaurant, just like the hotel it resided in, was very fancy with pristine white table cloths and flawless place settings that had too many forks than you could name.

You learned over the years at your job that the best thing to do was to pretend you knew what you were doing and usually no one asked any questions. Or, at the very least, follow Vance’s lead because he came from a household that had fancy meals on the regular.

Everyone seemed mostly relaxed as they sat at the table and started to chat. No one would be able to fully let loose with their boss at the end of the table, watching like a hawk.

Red wine was ordered and tables glasses were filled as you all looked over the very intricate menu. Half of these words you wouldn’t be able to pronounce.

Vance tapped your shoulder to get your attention.

“Do you think I should get the caviar as a starter?” He asked so seriously that you didn’t even question if he was kidding or not.

“Do you really want to eat fish eggs?” You questioned him with a raised brow as you skimmed over the menu. “Why doesn’t this place have mozzarella sticks?”

“Because it’s supposed to be fine dining and not your local pizza joint,” he jabbed back. He pointed to an item on the menu. “Get the bruschetta. It has cheese on it.”

“Thank you,” you hummed as you looked over the menu again.

You fought back eye roll as Vance placed his hand on your arm instead of responding. You resisted the urge to push him off.

During you and Vance’s talking about the menu, you didn’t see your waiter approach or hear him introduce himself.

You were in your own little world until you actually heard him speak to you. He had the voice you had only heard in your dreams and old home videos that Wayne would pull out when he was feeling sentimental during the holidays.

“Are you ready to order?”

Your head turned slowly to face him, scared that you would be disappointed by what you were about to see. When his wide eyes mimicked yours in surprise you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking.

“Eddie?”

#eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #waiter!eddie munson

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