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angel-of-the-moons · 5 months

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Chocolates vs Aliens

Eddie/Venom x Pregnant!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Fluff, details of pregnancy , childbirth mentions. Venom loves babies! This! Is! A hill! I will die on!

A/N: The winners of the poll! I'll do the Moon Boys next! Also okay its not a drabble but enjoy this hot word vomit asdfghjkl idk should I make a part 2??

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"SHE IS OUT OF CHOCOLATE?!" Venom's voice boomed inside his head.

"Relax, buddy, we can hit up the 7/11 down the street." Eddie scoffed, adjusting his wireless earbud. Thankfully it looked like he was on the phone, so he could talk freely to Venom without anyone thinking he was insane.

And well, he kind of was, a tiny bit.

Just a tad...

"BUT I CAN SMELL IT!" The symbiote whined childishly as Eddie scooped the frozen egg rolls into the wiry basket looped over his arms.

"Yeah yeah, I know. Mrs Chen could have eaten the last one, Vee. Just chill. How about some chocolate ice cream?" Eddie grinned at the pun.

"No! We always get brain freezes!" He entity huffed.

"Because you scarf down the whole tub in one go." Eddie chuckled.

Venom grumbled again, and a tendril snaked out from beneath Eddie's sweater and dropped a box of brownie mix into the basket. "Fine. I can settle with these."

"Whatever you say, love, but you're helping me bake the shit." The man shrugged in reply as he remembered to grab a carton of milk. He'd need some eggs, too... Well, at least his landlord let him move the chicken coop to the roof in exchange for some free eggs.

Those chickens were fat and spoiled, and Venom loved the little critters dearly, which Eddie always found humorous. Now, whenever Eddie made the joke of turning them into KFC, Venom would be aghast and headbutt him, citing that Sonny and Cher were his "babies".

He'd been talking like that a lot lately, Eddie realized. Venom apparently had a paternal streak in him. Eddie noticed that as well when Venom would find homeless kids or runaways, helping them and trying to seem as non-threatening as possible, even going as far as to change his fangs so they were blunt. (One of the kids assured him that was far creepier than the monster fangs, which made Eddie nearly keel over in laughter...)

"Deal." Venom purred happily, the tendril receding back to slip beneath Eddie's shirt and wrap around him like a hug.

"Alright, alright." Eddie chuckled, grabbing an extra box just in case as he walked around the shelves, sparing a glance at his phone to check the time.

"Eddie." Venom's voice said.

"What?" Eddie lifted his gaze, feeling Venom's haste flood him and put him on alert.

His eyes trailed the store until he landed on the checkout counter, where you were sitting. Not Mrs Chen, but cute, innocent, blissful you.

You were happily munching on a chocolate bar, one of the very ones Venom wanted. It would seem you had claimed it, eating the sugary morsel happily.

"Oh." Eddie mumbled.

He felt it as Venom seized control of his legs suddenly, sending him forward in jerking motions until he practically ran into the counter, making you jump in surprise.

"Oh! Sorry!" He smiled awkwardly, a faint blush to his cheeks.

'Venom, quit it! I'll get you chocolate later!' He said mentally to the alien inhabiting his body.

"No, Eddie. Wait."

"I, ah... Got a bit sidetracked and tripped over my feet." He added.

You smiled at him, "Oh, god. Yeah, I feel you. Lately it's like dragging my heels through wet cement." You chuckled.

Huh. You were... God, you were cute. He could tell even Venom thought so. With your cute fluffy turtleneck and your hair all done, your cheeks nice and rosy from the blush you'd applied.

Which... brought up the question.

"I've never seen you 'round here before." Eddie commented. "Mrs Chen is usually the only person I see in here..."

"Oh! I'm new in town, I live just down and street and she saw my situation and offered me a part-time here. I have a work from home job and everything, but ugh, just staying cooped up inside is so boring!" You say the last part with a groan.

"Damn, would've been nice if she offered me that job a couple years ago." Eddie chuckled.

You giggled a bit at him and looked at his basket, "Is that all for ya, hon?"

"Oh, yeah!" Eddie said, carefully organizing the things onto the glass counter. His eyes flicked to the candy bar you were still steadily breaking pieces off of.

"Bit of a sweet tooth, huh?" He teased.

"Ugh, god... lately? Yes! The craving for it has been absolute hell." You sigh exhaustedly. "Almost everything in my apartment is chocolate flavored or scented now!"

"... Cravings?" Eddie echoed, raising a thick brow.

"Okay, I know what you're thinking and no. It's not "that time of the month" like your brain is probably saying." You snort.

Eddie watches as your hand trails down to your midsection and you pat your belly beneath the plush fabric of your sweater, where a gentle swell stood out a bit more prominently as you smooth the fabric taut over your stomach.

"I just have a certain little jellybean who thinks they can dictate what mama wants to eat all the time. And apparently, chocolate is what's on the menu for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And... in between." You chuckle.

"OH." Eddie and Venom thought in unison.

"That's why she smells like that!" Venom barked, realizing the underlying scent of chocolate on you was laced with something else. Hormones. He was picking up on those, too.

"Oh! Uh, congrats!" Eddie said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I'm sure you and your, uh, partner are probably super happy, huh?"

"Oh, no, it's just me." You smiled with a hum, taking another little sweet square between your lips.

Eddie's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Okay, so I'm not gonna be rude, but I will explain." You snicker. You seemed infinitely patient and polite about the subject. Apparently this very thing must be a common occurrence with you, that random people must constantly ask this same question, and how tiring it surely must be to answer it again and again...

"No, I don't have a partner, husband, or anything. No daddy."

Eddie awkwardly pointed to your belly. "Then how did y'know... that get in there?"

Eddie controlled the flinch he wanted to make when Venom pinched him. "You did NOT just call her baby a THAT!"

"Yeah, yeah I know. But there's something everyone forgets, and that it doesn't always "take two to tango"." You smile at him again, ringing up his items with one hand, chocolate still clutched firmly in another.

"I decided that I wanted to be a mom. But I didn't want to just go out and get pregnant willy nilly. I have a good job, steady income. But I don't have time to date and there's always the concern that I'd be left a single parent if whoever I was with decided parenthood wasn't for them, y'know?"

Eddie nodded patiently as he and Venom listened to you with rapt attention.

"I went to a fertility clinic, did what the doctor said, then had my egg fertilized with a sperm donor. And then boom," You point to your belly. "Jellybean."

"Oh, that... Yeah okay I forget fertility clinics are a thing." Eddie laughed, shaking his head.

"Well I'm glad you're so open-minded about it!" You grin. "Most people judge me and go "oh your baby needs a father!" and the ever so classic "you don't even know who the father is?" line."

Eddie frowned, and he could tell even Venom was irritated on your behalf. "You don't need to have a partner or spouse to raise a baby. Seriously. What is this, the 1940s?"

"I knoooow!" You giggle again. "And besides! I can support me and my baby just fine, and I'm already happy and so far the pregnancy has been a breeze!"

Eddie could feel a tugging sensation from Venom. The symbiote was curious, and wanted to touch. But Eddie knew that was not only rude as hell, but to some people, socially unacceptable if you don't know the person or ask permission first.

"How uh, far along are you?"

"I just hit my second trimester." You chirp proudly, patting your belly. "The baby's tiny, but I'm finally showing, now."

"Ohhh." Eddie snapped his fingers. "Hence "jellybean", right?"

"Yes!" You laugh.

Eddie pulled out his card and swiped it to pay for the groceries. "It's a cute nickname. Have you thought of any names yet?"

Your brain did a record scratch, and Eddie could see the look on your face.

Nope. Not at all.

You hadn't thought of a damn one. Especially because you didn't know the sex of your baby yet.

"Uh...."

Eddie started snickering at your expression, "Ahhh. My bad." He shoots you a cocky grin, "If I can recommend a name, Eddie is a pretty strong one!"

"Weak." Venom mocked.

"Eddie?" You echo, blinking.

"Oh, don't listen to him, girl." Mrs Chen snorted as she walked up to you two, whacking Eddie with a rolled up newspaper. "This boy is nothing but trouble!"

Her words were jabbing, but not spoken without affection, so you could tell they had a history together.

"Ow! Hey!" Eddie pouted, rubbing the top of his head.

"Oh please, I'd need to shoot this out of a cannon to dent that hard head of yours!" She huffed with a smirk, crossing her arms.

She tilted her head and noticed the candy bar in your hand, and made the mental connection with Eddie and Venom. Riiiiiight. Venom needed chocolate. Mrs Chen tossed it to you when you started scrolling through your phone for door dash orders for chocolate cakes from local restaurants to sate your cravings.

"Oh, right. Sorry about your chocolate fix." Mrs Chen replied, her gum smacking softly. "Gave the lady one to help ease her stomach."

The flush to your cheeks made Eddie smile as you looked at the candy in your hand. "I'm sorry!" You sputtered.

"Hey, man, you got a baby in you. You can't exactly tell the little, uh.... eh. The little person they can't have it?" Eddie struggled. He wasn't sure how the whole cravings thing worked, honestly. Would you indeed cry if he didn't accept your offer? Would your baby get hungry? Was that a thing? He knew jack and shit about babies in general, man.

"Pff, moron."

'Parasite.'

"I AM NOT A PARASITE!"

"Oh, I know but uh..." You say, your eyelashes fluttering as you think, looking from Eddie to the bar in your hand. You decided to finish breaking off the pieces you were working on, and extend your hand giving the rest to Eddie. "Here! I'm good, if I need more I can nab some from the gas station down the street."

"Oh! Uh... I don't wanna, y'know. Take anything from you and your baby." Eddie said, waving his hands.

"Eddie, if you refuse to take it, she could cry." Mrs Chen teased. "You don't want to make a pregnant woman cry do you?"

Eddie's face was hilarious as panic started to bubble up within him as he looked from you, to your outstretched hand, to Mrs Chen, who stood as proud as can be at the chaos she had just sewn.

"Hey! I'm not that hormonal!" You retort to the older lady. But... you deflate a tiny bit. "...Okay, well not yet but still!"

Eddie was still going through the moral dilemma of accepting the kind gesture vs taking candy from a literal baby in somebody's womb.

Venom made the choice for him, extending our Eddie's hand and letting him take it.

"I, uh... Thanks." Eddie blabbered quickly.

"Now let's go home before you make an idiot out of us further." Venom cackled gleefully at the socially awkward situation.

Eddie grabbed the plastic bags and gave an awkward wave and a smile before skittering out of the store with his tail between his legs.

"Geez, he needs to get laid once in a while." Mrs Chen scoffed, going over to check inventory.

You barely had a moment to collect yourself, stopping before you laughed so hard you peed yourself.

That was the first time you and Eddie ever met. It would not be the last.

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Eddie shopped at Mrs Chen's place pretty regularly, her prices were easy on the wallet and she was close by to he and Venom's apartment.

You steadily built up a rapport with Eddie over the next two or three weeks. Venom was inexplicably drawn to you, wanting to constantly convince Eddie to touch your belly.

Eddie kept reminding him that it was frankly rude as shit to do that, and that hell, it would probably make you uncomfortable.

Not long after that, Eddie and Venom discovered--to Venom's utter glee--thay you lived in the same building, the apartment just above his. They found this out when Venom insisted on making sure you made it home after your shift at Mrs Chen's ended, knowing how vulnerable a pregnant lady looked to crooks and criminals.

Twice Venom caught and ate the brains of lowlifes who tried stalking you.

Venom, despite you not knowing of his existence, was fiercely protective of you. And... well he liked you. They liked you.

Eddie hated how quickly both he and Venom became infatuated with you, listening to you talk about your baby, your cravings... They could tell you were lonely despite your cheerful demeanor. Yes, Eddie and Venom had each other already, but they quickly thought about adding you to the mix.

But again, you didn't know about the alien slime monster living inside of Eddie. That subject would have to definitely wait...

He would check on you, leaning his head out his window on occasion to talk to you as you looked up, it brightened up the monotony of your at-home life in between work, asking about how you were feeling as your pregnancy developed. He even texted you lists of different baby names and their meanings to help you out!

When he first asked you out, you were floored. You've never met a man who was interested in a woman pregnant with somebody else's baby, before. You've heard about it sure, but... You were more surprised anyone was interested in you while pregnant with some guy's baby. Let alone your cute downstairs neighbor who apparently babied his pet chickens that were kept on the rooftop.

He even introduced you to them! You didn't hold them of course, for fear of bacteria, and chuckled as he furiously disinfected himself before even coming within three feet of you, all for you and your baby's health.

A man who was sweet, considerate, caring and he loves animals? Add the looks to that bill and that was a difference you were willing to pay. How was he still single?!

But... Well. That changed after your first date, and he was glad you accepted it all.

And it wasn't long after that (several weeks actually) you discovered he wasn't, in fact, single. He didn't have a girlfriend or anything but he certainly had a partner.

Said partner... was some kind of ooze-critter that lived inside of him. And you only found this out when you came home from a late night convenience store run for some triple chocolate chunk ice cream, walked into your apartment...

And saw him.

Venom, in his hulking form, stood awkwardly in your apartment, looking like a deer trapped in headlights when you flicked your lights back on, the ice cream in your bag forgotten.

As your door slowly swung closed due to angled flooring, you opened your mouth to scream.

Venom cut you off, his massive hands shooting up and he waved them, "DON'T SCREAM!"

You snapped your mouth shut, your teeth making an audible click as your heart hammered in your chest.

"We were worried! You weren't responding to our texts or when we knocked on your door?" His deep and rumbly voice growled out.

You shudder at the timbre of his voice, eyes never once leaving the rows of jagged fangs in his maw. You drop your plastic bag and step back, covering your belly--now very prominent as you were later in your term--protectively.

That seems to... upset him? He frowned, looking at the carpet as he lowered his hands, his large eyes narrowing as he carefully thought, trying to think of ways to alleviate the fear bubbling through you.

He took a slow step towards you, like you were a frightened animal caught in a trap that he had to be gentle with, lest you struggle or flail and get hurt.

"We were worried about you. We--" His head snapped to his left and he snarled. "Yes! "We"! You were worried, too! Don't try to say you weren't!"

You watch, in shock as he has essentially a one-sided argument with himself, getting exasperated, saying the word "love" and "dear" here and there.

You stayed, scared, until the ugly sensation of your nausea reared its ugly head and you dropped the plastic bag, literally shoving past this gigantic creature in a mad dash to your bathroom or you were gonna blow chunks right then and there.

You didn't even shut the door before you collapsed to your knees, hugging the bowl as you heaved the contents of your digestive system into the pearly white porcelain, leaving what could only be the Venom, the creature that supposedly stalked your city eating people, in your living room.

By the end of the nausea fit, your eyes were watery, your nose was runny and your face blotched with color, the whites of your eyes glassy from the strain. You felt lightheaded and dizzy as you rinsed your mouth with water right from the tap, gargling and spitting until the foul acidic taste went away.

You felt your now empty stomach growl and your first instinct was to go get food and eat again, to replenish the energy you just spent hurling everything you ate that day.

But then you remembered...

The big guy.

You didn't have any sort of object to wield as a weapon, so you merely sheepishly peeked around the corner, watching as the creature called Venom gingerly moved about your kitchen, things that looked like tentacles reaching out and grabbing a cup, some ice, and a can of ginger ale from your fridge and pour it into the cup; all the while making a sandwich. Nutella with your banana/mango spread. A favorite you'd started to enjoy in the past week.

But the only person you ever told that to was...

You froze when he turned around, locking eyes with you as he set the food on your breakfast island, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

"We... We know that you're probably hungry after... So we figured..." He said, gesturing vaguely to the food and drink in front of him.

"How do you know..." You breathed.

His colossal shoulders heave as he sighed, walking around the island and over to you, stopping just a mere few feet away.

"Promise not to be mad? Or scream?"

You weren't sure why in the hell he asked you that, but you felt already too far gone into shock to really argue. Plus, throwing up took all urges to scream from your poor sore throat.

So, you nodded.

"Okay."

You watched as the strange black goo peels back layer by slinking layer, until a man is revealed beneath.

But it's not just any man.

It's fucking Eddie. Your neighbor-turned-recent-boyfriend.

"You--!"

"We can explain! Just please, please don't be mad at us!" Eddie winced.

You felt another dizzy spell start to hit at this revelation. "How long--"

"A few years. Look, we planned on telling you. It's just... not tonight. When you didn't answer my texts or calls, I got worried and..." He sighed.

You watched as Venom's head moved out from behind Eddie's shoulder to peer at you, the thick black goo that made up the appendage holding his head up moving almost like water. He offered you a smile, and part of you wished that'd solve the tension in the air, to assuage your increasing confusion. But sadly, it didn't.

"Vee didn't want to fucking wait an extra ten minutes when you didn't answer the door and climbed through your window, which you should start locking I mean I know we're on the upper floors with no balcony or fire escape, but it's still a safety concern and with the baby--"

You interrupted Eddie's rambling. "Vee?" You echo.

"Uh--okay. That's what I call Venom when he isn't being an incorrigible shithead. Or a parasite who takes control of my body." Eddie sighed.

You almost laughed when Venom headbutted him in the side of his head.

"Stop calling me that! It's rude!" Venom snarled.

"No, what's rude is breaking into somebody's apartment!" Eddie retorted, jabbing a finger at Venom. "We talked about this!"

"You were worried, too!"

"Yes but I wasn't going to crawl through her goddamn window!"

Your eyes darted from one to the other as they started bickering like a... like a... Oh.

Yeah. It was after a two hour long conversation that Eddie told you everything. About his ex, the Life Foundation, finding Venom, fighting Riot, then the whole thing with Carnage, Venom's offspring... and of course, their actual relationship with one another, now. They argued like a married couple because they basically were one, complete with... well. You weren't ready in the current situation to imagine how the bedroom situation worked between them, yet.

You took it better than he expected. Way better.

"Honestly.... The only thing scarier than Venom is childbirth." You said, sitting next to him on the couch, your hands on your belly.

"...Eddie." you said slowly.

"Uh--yeah? What's up, sweetheart?" He asked awkwardly, Venom's eyes immediately drawn down to where your hands caressed the bump beneath your thin t shirt.

"How come you haven't asked to touch my belly yet? I'm... surprised. I've had random people come up to me and ask, but not... you."

"Wait... uh. So. You're giving... Permission?" Eddie asked, blinking his big, ridiculously lashed eyes at you.

"Well, yeah, and--"

"FINALLY!" Venom hissed.

In a black blur, Venom lurched forward over Eddie's shoulder, straight for your tummy. He pressed the side of his head against your belly, tendrils of his strange slime-like flesh wrapping around your midsection; listening to the baby's heartbeat and feeling for any movements.

Eddie meanwhile, looked equal parts horrified and embarrassed as he facepalmed, blushing all the way to his ears. "That's why. He's been fucking obsessed with you and your baby since he first realized you were pregnant."

You looked down as the symbiote cuddled you, and by extension, your baby, your jaw agape at how he was purring while he nuzzled into you.

"...That's why you're always so concerned about me?" You asked dumbly, blinking over at Eddie, who gave you an awkward smile and shrug in reply.

"Yeah, hate to break it to you, doll, but... Vee has kinda... claimed you two." He said.

"Claimed me." You repeated.

"Yeah. He has this thing... with kids?" He rolled his hand to try and think of words to describe it. "He's overprotective. He's the same with Sonny and Cher, it's just... he doesn't interact with many pregnant people so when he met you, that weird little drive kicked in. The fact that we both started feeling something for you outside of that kinda blindsided us, but..."

"So what?" Venom scoffed, resting his chin on the curve of your belly, looking up at you with a grin. "This is our baby now, and we will protect the both of you."

"Venom!" Eddie snapped.

"You claimed us?" You were having a difficult time wrapping your head around this. All of it. The whole situation in general. First your boyfriend has a boyfriend who technically isn't a boy but identifies as one because gender was a foreign concept to his species, they were together before they met you, Venom is a literal alien--

And now... was he saying...

"L-Look, I know it's early on and we haven't been dating long, but..." Eddie rubbed his sweaty palms on his faded-out jeans.

"Are you two saying... that you want to be with me? Rest of the pregnancy, birth, and all?"

The hell was your life, some kind of weird, cheap, sci-fi romance novel? The dashing, handsome alien(s) swoop in and offer to help raise your baby? What kind of parallel world were you in?

Eddie was quiet, and Venom merely stared at him, before looking back at you.

"Yes." He said. "Eddie is too much of a pussy to say it, but he likes the idea of taking care of a tiny you."

"Venom! Fuck! Stop calling me that!" Eddie snapped at the symbiote as he protectively snuggled your tummy.

Venom merely stuck his tongue out at him, "I will when you stop calling me a parasite!" He looked back up at you, giving you the best rendition he could of a hurt puppy. "Do you see how he talks to me? Despicable!"

You snorted a short laugh before you could stop yourself, and covered your mouth.

"Hah! See? She thinks I'm funny! So shut it!"

"Oh, my god, that does not count--"

"Yes it does I already won." Venom said contentedly.

"Look!" Eddie groans. "Just... We are willing to be with you. Take care of you, and help with the baby. If... you'll have us. I know this whole situation is weird, but..." Eddie trails off, looking at you hopefully.

The decision wasn't as difficult as you thought it'd be. Eddie and Venom haven't given you a reason to be afraid--other than scaring the shit out of you earlier because Venom apparently has fucking anxiety--and, well... They were so sweet, and gentle... And if Venom doting on your unborn baby currently was any indication, the affection would probably increase a hundred fold after your little bundle of joy arrived.

"Okay." You said.

All the tension seemed to drain from Eddie's body and he sighed, a relieved smile blooming on his face as he looked at you with a look in his eyes that had your heart doing a little flip in your chest.

"Thank God..." Eddie sighed happily.

Venom grinned widely at you, before shooting back to Eddie and seizing the body again, his inky black mass covering Eddie entirely.

Your couch creaked under the added weight of Venom's increased mass as he leaned over, dwarfing your whole body as he wrapped his thick, tree-trunk arms around your tinier body, nuzzling into your cheek before giving you a kiss. Thankfully no tongue, because you thought you'd probably choke if he did that.

When he pulled back, your face was flush at the boldness of his actions, and looked up at him as his opalescent eyes narrowed sweetly down at you.

But something Venom said clicked into your brain, finally, once it rebooted from the kiss.

"Venom, you said you two wouldn't mind helping raise a tiny me." You began. "But I don't know if I'm having a boy or girl, yet."

"Oh, we can." Venom grinned. "I could tell when I was holding onto you. It was easy."

"What?!" You sputter.

"You're having a little girl, by the way."

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You booked an appointment two weeks later. And damn, Venom was right. You were having a girl! At least the naming situation was easier, now that you narrowed down the sex.

Many people said you and Eddie were moving fast, but you ignored them because they didn't know the real situation. Your apartment was bigger, two rooms, one for you (and now Eddie and Venom) and the other was the nursery for the baby.

Eddie was affectionate, but Venom was downright clingy. He was almost always wrapped around your belly in some way or another, purring as he used his weird slimy body to massage you. He helped with your back strain surprisingly, how he would massage you. Eddie proposed maybe letting Venom bond with you for the remainder of the pregnancy to ensure safety and good health, but Venom shot the idea down himself.

He explained it like it was a bit like an organ donor match, if you weren't a match for him you could get sick, or God forbid both you and the baby could die. And to Eddie's surprise Venom made the nature decision to settle for massaging your back and tummy to ease the strain.

Venom jumped at the chance to rub your coconut oil into your belly to help ease the risk and appearance of stretch marks, too.

Through the mood swings, crazy cravings and nesting phases and all, you two boyfriends stayed with you through all of it. Several times you woke up to Venom and Eddie cooking in the kitchen, making sure you had a decent breakfast in the morning.

The only problem was... well. They cooked like broke college boys. So, you spent time giving them cooking lessons, which was one of the funnest things you'd done in a while. The messes were worth cleaning up, the cute recordings you made were memories that'd last a very very long time.

Nighttime cuddles were great, Venom slinking beneath the blankets to wrap around both you and Eddie to snuggle, massaging you the whole night. It really helped when he would conform a certain way so you could lay on your side comfortably and ease the strain on your poor spine and hips.

Who needed a pregnancy pillow when you had a symbiote, right?

Eddie and Venom read up as much as they could on the subject of babies and childbirth and to say Eddie was terrified was an absolute understatement. The photos and diagrams alone had him chewing his nails (getting a swift smack from Venom) and he felt himself getting queasy when he found out that apparently you would be delivering the placenta as well?!

How much did you have to go through, making a tiny human?!

This whole situation amused the fuck out of you, however, as you'd done all this research and merely accepted it. A bit of blood, etcetera after delivery seemed easy to deal with given you've dealt with your period since puberty and that alone was a mess by itself...

But watching a man learn more about it? Oh, it was hilarious.

But hey! They were excited for a cute little baby girl to snuggle and kiss!

One night, you were laying in bed as you scrolled through various baby items online, saving a few cute things for later. Eddie had his head on your shoulder, watching a movie, with an arm draped over your belly, now painfully (sometimes literally) obvious bump, feeling the baby shift and move around as she kicked inside of you.

Venom had encapsulated Eddie's arm, his massive hand stroking your tummy idly.

Apparently, a thought had been bouncing around in Venom's brain and he finally decided to ask it. His head morphed from behind Eddie and peered over at you.

"The baby is a girl." He said.

"Yeah, Venom, that's been established." Eddie snorted, moving until his cheek was resting on your chest.

"Eddie, that's mean." You chuckle, running your fingers through his hair. "Venom, continue."

"Thank you, sweet thing." Venom purred at you, shooting Eddie a glare afterwards.

"But anyway... If the baby is a girl now..." He tipped his head to the side. "What if the baby decides or realizes when she's older that she isn't one? Or either?"

You lower your phone, eyebrows raised at the gravity of his question. Even Eddie sat up on his elbow to look at Venom, surprised at the depth of the question coming from his symbiote. Honestly though, the subject made sense coming from a species that technically didn't have genders in the first place...

Venom seemed happy with your reply, and looked to Eddie expectantly. He already knew what his opinion was, but he wanted him to say it out loud for you.

"Well..." You begin. "If she decides she wasn't born the right gender, or feels like she's neither, or even leaning on both scales... I won't have a problem. I just want our baby to be happy and healthy, not conformed or trapped in any way. That includes the identity she will have as she realizes things about herself."

"Well, I don't have room to talk on gender identity." Eddie snickered. "Considering how you didn't really decide to go by male pronouns until you bonded with me and stuck with that identity because it fit for you... so, yeah. Whatever the baby decides when she's old enough is fine with me."

You grin and kiss Eddie on his temple, ruffling his hair as Venom nuzzles into your belly.

Yeah...

Safe, happy, and loved. That's what your baby would be, no matter what. With her two weird dads and her mom who puts up with their nonsense.

#eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x venom x reader #eddie brock x venom #eddie x reader #venom x eddie x reader #symbrock x reader

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elysianeclipxe · 1 year

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secret soft boy revealed | enhypen sunghoon

warnings: insults towards build a bear, sunghoon being a judgemental bitch /hj, irony or like little hypocritical (not that bad i swear), also like mega soft hoonie

genre/au: fluff, boyfriend!sunghoon au

word count: 1.4k

summary: build-a-bear is a cliche and old thing that couple do. only lame people would go there to build a bear when it's obviously easier to just buy one.. so tell me why THE Park Sunghoon just so happens to be there, enjoying the fact that he's building a bear... whipped af

sidenote: pls don't question where my mind's at these days, idk either. like this idea legit just popped outta nowhere and has been stuck for like a week. i had to do it, i had to so deal with it. sunghoon's cute like this anyway, also hoping he isn't super ooc in this, i tried my best y'all

Sunghoon is a man with a lot of pride. That pride slowly increased as the years went by and never stopped to fall. It rose from ice skating, it rose from his fangirls at college, and it definitely rose when and as he dates you. But right now, his pride is easily being challenged by a stuffed animal store. What exactly is he looking at right now?

“Ya! What the fuck is this nightmare of a store?” He felt his feet halt at the sight of the -what’s a nice way to describe it- childish looking store. Well that’s way better compared to what he did say. His eyes are wide and figure is just frozen cause he definitely did not see this as part of his day when he said that you could take him anywhere.

“What do you mean? It’s build-a-bear, it’s cute.” You replied in a questioning tone. You tug at his arm trying to pull him inside the store but it gets progressively harder as if he doesn’t want to go in.

“It looks stupid.” You knew it, this wasn’t the ideal place to go to.

You frown at his response and let go of his hand with a huff, “you look stupid. If you really don’t wanna go in then I won’t force you to. I just thought it would be fun to do together.” Maybe you should’ve picked a different place for the two of you to go to instead of something so immature. You probably look like such a childish significant other in his eyes right now. Great…

He looked over at you and felt his figure slump at your down state. Was this build-a-bear thing such a bad thing that he would shut it down before even trying it? For others, maybe. But for you, no way. He likes you too much for that. So he lifted your chin and forced a smile, “I want to do it, just don’t expect me to be too into it. Just want you to have fun.”

“REALLY HOONIE!? You’re serious about this, promise?” With a slight nod of his head, you beamed your smile at him and excitedly dragged him into the store. This’ll be fun, right?

Oh boy were you soooo right! You and Sunghoon had only entered the workshop around 15 minutes ago and anyone can obviously see how much you’re enjoying it so far, but what you didn’t expect was to see your boyfriend enjoying just as much as you. Maybe even a little bit more. The way he paid so much attention to the worker who explained what to do first since you were both first time build-a-bear makers, or maybe how he said how you two should surprise each other with your build-a-bear and see who made a better one like it was a competition. Nevertheless, you agreed to his proposition.

So here you are, looking around the store trying to find a design you think would be best. Frogs, nope. Bunnies, cute but no. Unicorns, why. Everything seemed so basic and incomplete until there, your build-a-bear chilling on the second shelf. A little penguin.

Awwww, it’s so cute! It kinda looks like Sunghoon. My ice prince and my ice related animal, makes sense

“You are way too cute not to get! Come on, let’s go get you all plush and personalised.” You happily walk over to the worker and move onto the next step, the worker instructing you to do this silly but amusing heart warming ceremony for your almost stuffed penguin. Rubbing the plastic heart between your hands and giving the heart a wish for your plush was one of the most entertaining things to do. Screw being childish, this was terrific and you didn’t care. And it seems as though your boyfriend doesn’t care either since he comes rushing over to you with an unstuffed bear and a huge grin on his face.

“I FOUND IT!! I found the perfect one to get, a classic with my personal touch. I am definitely winning this!” He confidently handed it to the worker and worked on his heart warming ceremony. A serious look on his face as he warmed up the plastic heart in his hands, rubbing it on the fully stuffed animal to create memories, promising to care for his new build-a-bear, and sealing that promise with a kiss.

HE’S SO CUTE OMG!! HOON YOU ARE SO CUTE LIKE THIS, STUPID MY ASS, YOU ARE THE SOFTEST BOYFRIEND EVER

After everything was done, the workers placed the hearts in each stuffed animal and closed them up before handing them to you. You both thanked them before looking at each other with determination in both of your eyes. “Sorry Hoonie, but I think I won this one. I got a penguin while you got a basic bear.”

He loudly gasped at your words, hands over his heart before placing the bear’s paw over their heart. “How could you? My bear is not basic! He is a classic with a customised scarf as a personal accessory. I for sure won this challenge, step down babe.”

“How does adding a scarf make it that much better, Hoon?”

He froze. “Hoon?” He bit his lip and turned his head to the side, not noticing that his cheeks and ears began to turn the lightest shade of red. “Hoon~, wanna answer me?” You teasingly ask him, closing the distance between the two of you. “Please..”

“IgavehimasimilarscarftotheoneIgaveyouwhenwestarteddatingandiputourinitialsonthescarfaswell…” Sunghoon said quickly, squeezing his eyes shut. This is embarrassing, too embarrassing for him.

“Sunghoon, I understand nothing from that. Could you repeat it again, a little slower this time?”

“Ishhhhh, okay. I gave him a similar scarf to the one I gave you when we started dating and I put our initials on the scarf as well…” His blush deepened to the point he started covering his face with his hands. You bit your lip in pure amusement and happiness.

Yep, I’m right. My boyfriend is the cutest thing ever, I love him so much

“Can I see?” He hurriedly nodded and pushed the bear in your direction. The classic brown bear with a different colour for the heart shaped paws and the scarf that did indeed have both of your initials in it. PSH <3 Y/N. You could feel your heart melt at the sight of something so simple yet weirdly touching. This man is too much for your heart. “You win, Hoonie. I-I don’t think I can beat this.”

He peeked out of the gaps between his fingers, “really?” He saw your nod and your shy smile and started smirking at you all smug like. “You really like it, huh?”

You push his face away and begin to walk towards the counter to pay for the build-a-bears, “don’t get too cocky, Park Sunghoon!” He followed after you with a loud laugh. “Oh yeah, what do you think we should name them?”

“Tofu for the penguin and Mapo for the bear?”

“Like mapo tofu, the dish? Just why?”

“Because mapo tofu is two parts that make a great dish together, just like how you and I make a great couple together and plus we made these build-a-bears together… also I’m kind of craving some mapo tofu right now.” You slapped his shoulder and chuckled at his dorky analogy. Mapo and Tofu, kind of cute.

“Hoon, do you still want to buy them some clothes?”

“Nah, I’m kind of tired. Spent too much time trying to win the competition. We can just buy them clothes next time if we want to and order some takeout at home..” He handed over his credit card and waited for the cashier to place the stuffed animals in the bags before heading out the store with you.

“So there’s a next time?” You cheekily grinned at him. You can see that shy smile that only shows when he’s admitting to something he judged too quickly but enjoyed.

“Maybe… It wasn’t so bad going to build-a-bear with you.” He wasn’t lying, it was pretty entertaining. Especially since he saw just how happy you looked while getting your penguin. It wasn’t so much that building a bear was fun but more on how fun it was to be with you. Okay, he’s lying a bit. Maybe building his own bear was pretty fun. But he won’t admit it. Cause who would ever think that the so-called ice prince would be so into building a bear?

I hope you all enjoyed reading this random fic, I'm hoping it was okay. All support is very much appreciated <;33

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wcbblife · 5 days

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could you do paige with either a black gf or a volleyball player gf hcs??

Paige x Volleyball player!gf HCs

a/n: I've had this idea in the drafts for quite a bit of time. So glad you sparked my mind to finally finish it

Bit of background about you two ig:

What first stood out to Paige about you was the ability to absolutely spike the ball with an insane amount of power. The first time she saw you play she was with KK because they were both oh so bored on their free day. Next thing she knew you were elevating off the floor and slamming your palm against the ball with an insane amount of strength. They both let out a synched “DAMN” as the ball quickly made its way down to the floor with a resounding bang. One after the other, she was literally left with her jaw on the floor at how good you were and how you were able to carry the team to a flawless victory.

She definitely went home and searched all of your highlights, slowly being more and more captivated by how high you could jump and how fast you could react to get some saves. After that, she would literally make up the stupidest excuses to just see you absolutely dominate on the court.

Noticing her growing attendance, fans began to joke around on the internet (with pics and vids). You take notice of this. Especially on how she cheered extra hard whenever you helped on scoring a point.

Funny enough I think you two would meet in the library. She would pass you and the look on her face is hilarious (something between a mix of amazement, shock, and something else). She tries to stop the absolute sound of excitement that she wants to let out.

"Dude, you’re an awesome player.” She says, smiling super bright.

"Well if it isn’t my biggest fan” You tease. “But are you serious? You’re the cool one here.”

You both continue to absolutely geek out about one another and compliment the other's play style. It’s then that you find out that she absolutely loves when you spike.

You both get closer after one particular game where your famous strong spikes literally sealed the deal for the team to win. After a particularly impressive spike she literally jumped while screaming as loud as she could and you couldn't even deny that trying to ignore a tall blonde jumping erratically up and down was getting harder after each game. So you just turned towards her and pointed to mess with her. It worked though cuz Paige went absolutely crazy.

After that, you two started talking some more and you even started showing your face to some of her basketball games. And she asked you out after one of her hard games, caught up in the high of the game. You two immediately become the school's hottest topic after it.

Some actually normal HCs:

She absolutely is your biggest fan. No one ever cheers louder for you than Paige Bueckers.

Is eager to learn how to set for you so that she can help you with your spikes. Like seeing it first hand because it makes her feel so starstruck seeing it first hand.

Absolutely loves to play beach volleyball with you. Idk why she just seems like it.

Lovesssss to see you in your uniform. Especially with those shorts. Makes her go crazy.

Goes nuts when you react fast and save the ball. "YEAH BABY! YOU SHOW EM HOW ITS DONE!"

Will 100% challenge you to a 1v1 but immediately regret it as she watches you jump to slam the ball. “Chill! You're gonna kill me if you do that.”

She loves to learn and break down each set with you. Especially if you tell her it helps you better your game. And vise versa. You love to watch her games and hear her break down her own playing.

Outside of sports and school, Paige will literally show you off to everyone (like imagine a family Christmas party and she's literally holding someone hostage while showing them you play. “Isn't she awesome? I mean just look at her!").

Acts like a concerned mother whenever you fall one too many times in a game while diving to save the ball from touching the ground.

Loves it when you wink or smile in her direction while you're playing. It actually drives her a little crazy.

#wcbb #women's basketball #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader

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helluvabun · 2 months

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Lucifer xreader?

authors note: Inspired by a comment :) um, learning I really like writing nothing burgers but I'm pretty happy with this one...

Lucifer and Alastor argue over you

TW: mentions of a sibling? idk if thats a trigger

masterlist

Alastor had really done it this time. You knew he wasn’t the most genuine of friends, aware he was just being nice for personal gain. But as time went on and you and he settled into the gentle routine of quiet afternoon teas listening to jazz in his half-open bedroom under the stars, you allowed yourself to believe maybe he enjoyed your companionship. Then you lay in bed, crying over finding out your sibling ended up in hell, and he had the audacity to offer you a deal. Not even a good deal: he’d get them to the hotel in exchange for your soul. You yelled at him angrily and stormed down to the bar, face still puffy from your sobs. You demanded the strongest thing on hand from Husk before burying your hands in your arms. He poured you a double shot with a small smile.

Lucifer entered the empty bar and walked over to you. He stood quietly, waiting for you to acknowledge his presence. Eventually, he spoke, his voice barely a murmur. "I heard what happened."

You hastily wiped your eyes, looking up at him with a nervous smile. "What? How?"

"Everyone heard what happened… you weren’t exactly quiet, kiddo," he sighed gently, taking a seat on the stool beside you. "I already sent Maggie to retrieve the new sinner, so don’t worry your head about that, okay?"

You nodded silently at the information, taking another sip from your glass. You didn't know what to do; you were still so angry, but you didn't want to yell at Lucifer too, even though you wanted to yell at everyone and anything that could hear. His presence somehow seemed more comforting than the empty stool that was next to you just a few seconds ago.

Lucifer stayed silent for a moment, thinking of what to say next. He cleared his throat slightly before speaking in a soft voice, "I'm sorry about what happened with Alastor. He was never the most trustworthy demon." He leaned back against the bar and sipped his drink. "But I promise you that I will do everything in my power to ensure that your sibling is well taken care of at the hotel. And don't worry, I won't ask you to give up your soul in exchange."

You smiled softly and turned to thank him, but as soon as you opened your mouth to speak, you were interrupted by the voice you least wanted to hear.

"I don't recall being untrustworthy." You almost jumped out of your skin. After all this time, you’re still not used to him appearing randomly behind you. "At the very least, I can be trusted to uphold my end of the bargain. No need to vilify me."

"Oh really? Because I seem to remember you agreeing to take this poor sinner’s soul in exchange for getting their sibling to the hotel! Isn’t that right, Alastor dear?" The devil spoke up, a playful yet firm edge to his voice, his expression remaining steady.

"I don’t remember this deal involving you," Alastor said pointedly, placing a hand possessively on your shoulder, ignoring your stiffening under his touch. "Can we discuss this matter upstairs, my dear? This really should stay a matter between two friends."

"We were having a conversation, and I think it’s rather clear she’d rather continue that than leave with you," Lucifer interjected.

Alastor, with a wide grin that can only be described as predatory in context, slowly slid his hand off you, a slight shiver running down your spine. Lucifer's eyes turned cold, and his smile disappeared, a chilling silence filling the air. Lucifer slowly stood from the stool and looked directly at Alastor with an angry expression. Alastor stared back with a calm and confident expression, not backing down from the argument.

"Come with me, my dear. This was just a misunderstanding we can get through."

"You think she would ever choose you over me?" The King laughed. "Even if she could forgive you for your actions, she'd rather be with someone whose heart isn't filled with hatred and fear. Someone who wouldn't use her for their own gain. Someone like me."

"Are you really going to side with him? You know as well as I that Lucifer is nothing more than a deceitful, tyrannical tyrant that cares nothing for the soul of a mere sinner. Now please take my hand and let's discuss this upstairs, shall we?" He didn’t give you a choice, grabbing your hand and pulling you gently. Lucifer grabbed your other hand to hold you in place. You were in a very awkward position now, caught between a rock and a hard place. Lucifer and Alastor continued to bicker. Their voices were becoming louder and louder with each passing moment. You wished they would just shut up and leave you alone for a few seconds.

Lucifer seemed to be the only one who wanted to do the right thing for you without expecting anything in return. And you know what? He's right. Alastor is untrustworthy, manipulative, and cruel. You're so glad he's on your side.

"Will you two just shut up!" you finally said loudly, causing both of them to stop mid-sentence. "You two can’t just argue over me like I’m the last piece of pizza. Alastor, I don’t want to go with you."

"Well, you heard the girl! She doesn’t want to go with me! And since she doesn’t value me as a friend, I’ll be on my way," Alastor said, his tone unreadable, smiling broadly at Lucifer before turning to leave.

Lucifer's grip on your hand tightened a bit as he watched Alastor walk out the door. He let out a long exhale and looked at you with a soft expression.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, his voice full of concern. You nodded silently, feeling relieved that the confrontation was over.

The Devil smiled warmly at you before releasing your hand. "Would you like to stay for another drink? On the house, of course."

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halfwayinmygrave · 5 months

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Fluff Alphabet - LA!Sanji x Reader

Warnings - none really just fluff, no use of y/n, kinda long ig, I don't think I used any gendered terms but please tell me if I did, might be a bit oc? I'm new to writing fanfics so idk (I've only watched the LA one piece so I'm writing based off that one)

I got this fluff alphabet from @anonymousbeefriend-fanfics (I just searched up fluff alphabet template)

(I'm so desperately in love with him😔)

Activities – What are their favorite things to do with you? How do you spend your free time?

Obviously, Sanji loves cooking with you. His free time is mostly taken up by cooking to satiate Luffy's enormous appetite, so if you spend it with him he's even more head over heels for you. If you just want to sit and keep him company while he cooks, he'll love it. If you want to sit and tell him everything that comes to your mind, he'll gladly listen. Sanji loves listening to you, your voice, learning things about you, your opinions, likes and dislikes. He'd listen to you forever. But if you prefer sitting in silence with him, he loves it too. Just your presence calms him, seeing you chill out with him has him staring at you for a little too long. Sanji would love it if you cooked with you. It doesn't matter if you know how to cook or not, he loves sharing his passion with you.

Boo! – How do they feel about surprises, giving and receiving?

Sanji loves romantic surprises. When he's receiving them it just makes him fall in love with you all over again. Knowing you love and care about him enough to put this effort into surprising him, whether that be by a dinner, picnic, or any other kind of surprise, he just loves it. When he finally sees the surprise, he'll kind of just stand there, looking at you with all the love in his eyes. Nobody's ever done this for him before, and his hearts about to burst. When Sanji's giving a surprise, he wants it to be perfect. If he's planning like a romantic dinner for you two, he'll whip up something for the strawhats dinner and then spend time meticulously making your favorite food, after having asked someone to keep you busy so he can keep it a surprise. If your docked he'll have gone out to look for a nice spot to have your dinner, but if you're sailing it'll probably be by Nami's trees (that seems like a nice spot). He loves making you feel loved and reminding you how much he loves you.

Comfort – How do they comfort you when you’re upset? When the tables turn, do they come to you, or try to handle it themselves?

Of the Strawhat pirates Sanji is definitely one of the better ones at dealing with emotions, he's a bit more in tune with his own and others more than some of his crewmates. So if you're upset he'll definitely notice the changes in your behavior. If you avoid everyone, or lash out, he notices. No matter how close he is with you when it happens, he pays attention to all of his crewmates, and knows when something's off. He comes to find you, making sure nobody's going to try to bother you guys. Sanji might be sweet with his words, but when it comes to comfort he prefers to rely on his actions. He might bring you your favorite tea (or other calming drink), he wants to make you feel safe and understood, because while he might not have been through what you're going through, he wants you to know that he's there for you, and he's always going to be there for you.

Dance – Do they like to dance with you? How good of a dancer are they?

Sanji would love to dance with you in the dark of night. A night you both can't sleep, you go to the kitchen for a snack or a drink, and you find him there, chopping away in his safe space. Coming up behind him, you run your hands up his waist, kissing his neck softly. He hums softly as you caress him. "Can't sleep?" He asks, turning around to kiss you properly. "Couldn't you" Your hands glide up his body to wrap around his neck, his soft skin emitting a soothing warmth. He starts swaying you around the kitchen, his hands around your waist, your head resting on his chest. He would give anything for this moment to last forever.

Excitement – How do they act when they’re excited? What excites them?

(I really want to say he would squeal yk like Ken from barbie life in the dreamhouse just like a high pitched "EEEEEE!" idk how to write that but do you see my vision okay nvm) When Sanji gets excited I feel like he talks a lot and it just goes on and on, he's just talking about anything and everything related to what he's excited about. He gives me like rambler vibes but only if he's close to you and he knows you're actually interested in what he has to say and you won't make fun of him.

Future – What are their plans for the future? Do they see themselves getting married, having kids?

Sanji would love to marry you. He loves you so much, he wants to have you by him forever, his absolute partner. I definitely see Sanji as wanting kids, he wants to be the best father to them.

Gifts – What do they give you as presents? How often do they get you gifts?

Sanji want to show you how much he loves you, all the time. His gifts are usually handmade, he likes to pour his heart into what he makes you. Also cooking gifts obviously he would love to make you your favorite drink, dessert, meal, anything to show how much he cares about you.

Hold – How do they hold you? Cuddling, sleeping, holding hands…

When you guys are sleeping or cuddling, he likes to hold you. It’s his protective side, he wants to make sure you’re safe in his arms. Your head laying in his chest, his arms wrapped around you. When you’re out and not sleeping he likes to have his hand on you in some way at least a bit, holding hands, his hand on your back as your walking, he loves touching you.

Ideal – What’s their ideal date like?

Sanji’s idea date is just the two of you, taking time for eachother to spend time just alone. Maybe it’s a picnic on an island you’re docked on, out in a forest clearing, watching the stars while laying by eachother, laughing and pointing out the constellations you know, talking about anything and everything, falling into a comfortable silence as you enjoy the feeling of eachother.

Jealousy – Do they get jealous easily? How do they handle it?

Sanji doesn’t get overly jealous, but just a little bit. When he sees another guy talking to you, as if he’s good enough for you? Terrible, he’s the possessive kind of jealous, he’d go up to you talking to the guy, wrap his hand around your waist and kiss your forehead while staring the guy down. He’s yours and you’re his, and he needs this guy to know it.

Kisses – How do they like to kiss you? How frequently do you kiss?

Sanji could never get enough of you, of your lips, against his skin, his own lips. He would kiss you all day everyday if he could but he sadly can’t 😔 poor Sanji so deprived of love and kisses. He loves kissing you all over, and loves it when you kiss him all over. He prefers to keep most of his kisses for private, the ones that are just for the two of you. But he doesn’t mind chaste kisses out on the deck, or giving you pecks in front of the crew. It’s just the passionate kisses, the ones where he’s putting all of his love onto your lips, that he wants private.

Love – How do they show you that they love you?

I’ve definitely said this a ton but Sanji LOVES cooking for you it’s just one of the ways he knows he can show you how much he loves you, but besides that he has other things too he’s not only a chef but your loving boyfriend. Sanji pays attention to you, all of your tells and quirks, he knows them all. He knows the signs of when you’re angry, sad, or annoyed. He knows when to give you space, and when to hold you. He shows you he loves you by taking time for you, he’ll always make time for you. There’s no one he’d rather spend time with.

Melt – What do you do that absolutely makes them melt?

Sanji absolutely melts when you hold his face. He’s not used to soft touches, so when you hold him softly, caressing his cheeks, brushing his hair, soft moments just make him melt into a puddle of sappy love. Please hold him he needs it.

Nicknames – What do they call you, and what are their favorite things to be called?

Sanji loves giving you nicknames, like love/beloved, my sweet, my one and only, all those really sweet and sappy ones yk. Sanji loves it when you call him nicknames, but his favorite thing you call him is his name, the way it slips off your tongue and out of your mouth graces his ears every time.

Obvious – How obvious do they make it that they like you?

As we all know Sanji flirts with so many people. So before you guys got together it’s hard to take him seriously when he flirts with you, you think he’s just acting the way he does around everyone else. Sanji is kinda oblivious as to why you aren’t responding to his advances, so he’s all “Aw man do they not like me😖” I love him aw anyways it’s not until Sanji flat out tells you he’s in love with you and was wondering if you don’t like him because you never seem to notice his interest and you guys finally both confess because you both thought the other didn’t like you.

Pets – Do they have pets? Do they want them?

Ignore this one being short but I can’t see Sanji having or wanting pets (but I’d force him to deal with my cats anyways)

Quiet – How are the calm, quiet moments with them?

Calm and quiet isn’t something that happens often with the strawhats, but when you do get it make sure to cherish it. Night spent with you two holding eachother in your arms, you don’t need to talk, just breathe, relax, don’t worry about anything. Spending time when Sanji’s cooking resting close by him, just taking in each others presence.

Romance – How romantic are they? What are their go-to ways of being romantic?

Is Sanji romantic? Is the grass green? Is the sky blue? Is water wet? Am I in love with him? Yes Sanji is a romantic, a hopeless romantic, a sappy, cliche, romantic, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. Everything he does for you he pours so much love and care into it. You’re his everything, and he always wants you to know that.

Safe – What makes them feel safe and comfortable around you?

Sanji feels safe around you when you don’t rag on him for being himself, when you don’t get annoyed or say it’s weird when he shows his emotion. He feels safe around you because he can be himself, be vulnerable. Growing up with pirates you don’t get to be vulnerable, so when you take care of him and are soft and caring when he finally takes that chance, he knows he’s safe around you.

Tend – How do they act when you’re hurt or sick, and vice versa?

Super overprotective of you when you’re sick. He knows you’re strong and can take care of yourself, but when your sick? He’s taking care of everything for you. Making you soups and old recipes to help you get better, always checking up on you, making sure he’s doing whatever he can to help and make you comfortable. When Sanji is sick, disaster. He takes being sick better than a lot of guys, but it’s still not good. He tried to argue that he’s perfectly fine and can get back to work and to not worry about it then he’d try to stand up and fall on you. You need to force him to rest, or else he’ll keep trying to get back to work. Take care of him while he’s sick and he’s melting, you’re just so caring and he’s just so I love with you.

Unique – What’s an unusual thing about them that’s oddly charming?

The way Sanji looks at you when you’re not looking. You’ll never see it, but the others do. He looks at you like you’re the sun and the moon, the very stars in the sky. He looks at you with all the love in his eyes and while you never see it, you can always feel his love.

Variety – Do they prefer to keep things the same, or spice it up?

Sanji loves to spice up your relationship and try new things, different date ideas, different ways to spend time together or finding new ways to spice up what you already do, but don’t be fooled, when things are the same he still loves it. He could never get tired of the things he does with you. A routine calms him down and having you in that routine just makes it all better.

Wash – What’s it like taking a bath with them, or helping them wash up after a fight?

Taking a regular bath with Sanji is nice, calming and relaxing. He loves helping wash you, his hands running over your skin, through your hair. And he loves it when you help him, the feeling of your hands, scrubbing him, being so soft on his skin, on his hair. The feeling of you taking care of him is amazing. If you were cleaning up after a fight he’s checking you everywhere for wounds, cleaning the ones he finds and leaving soft kisses around them.

XO – How do they show you affection? How much PDA are they willing to show?

Sanji doesn’t have anything against PDA, he loves showing you off and loves having people know you’re together. Now, of course if you’re not comfortable with it, he respect that, he always respects your boundaries. If you don’t like big acts of pda or even just kissing out in public he’ll just hold your hand or be especially close to you all the time.

Yearn – What do they do when they miss you?

When Sanji misses you his demeanor changes slightly, he gets annoyed at the others a bit more easily, and he’s distracted, he just misses you so much, how could he focus when you’re not around? If you’re gone for awhile he’ll make things that remind him of you, your favorite foods, eating them thinking of how you react whenever he makes it.

Zzz – How do they act when they get sleepy? How is it sleeping in the same bed?

Sleepy Sanji is fighting so hard against the sleepy allegations. He’s not tired! He just needs to get back to work but don’t listen to him he’s a liar. Drag him to bed, and he’ll go with minimal whining but he appreciates it really he does. He loves laying with you, it’s so comforting. I see Sanji as somebody who moves around during his sleep, just a bit. He just shifts a lot. Sleeping with him is the best, he’s so warm and with his wrapped around you you’re gonna be so cozy and snuggled up.

YAAA this took so long to write ty for reading🫶🫶

#sanji x reader #one piece x reader #opla x reader #op x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader

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eras-mus · 5 months

Note

HIII I HAD A THOIGHT THAT HAS BEEN KILLING MY MIND AND I NEED TO TELL IT TO SOMEONE OTHERWISE IM GNA EXPLODE

get this . everyone chilling at ramshackle dorm doing their own thing, yuu (and grimm by extension), ace and deuce sitting by the table talking about whatever crosses their mind

Eventually the conversation escalates to birthdays and holidays and ace asks how old Yuu is. Azul interjects with saying Yuu's age from the contract they signed a few months ago, but then Yuu pipes up and tells them that they're one year older than that.

Theres a small moment of confusion until it dawns onto Deuce that Yuy's birthday was a month or two ago and they never spoke a peep about it. Not even to grimm!! And when asked, Yuy makes an excuse like "that was when __ was kind of close to overblotting and I didn't want to make it about me because that'd be so nitpicky—"

It was based off an audio i heard and idk if i want to write it into a short drabble for myself i probably cant since im only on book 2 ueue). But like. its a fun prompt methinks. what would all of them do when they find out Yuu deliberately didn't say a thing about their birthday

🎉

THAT WAS YOUR BIRTHDAY???

★Reader is Yuu and is 17 years old

★gender neutral

★takes place after the third book

Sorry it's short, hope you like it!

"Can we start yet!" Ace complained, head slamming onto the table.

"I told you we're waiting on a couple more people." The perfect told him "I invited Kalim and Azul to join us since Sebek and Jack couldn't make it"

Tonight was the Ramshackle dorms weekly game night, normally it was just the freshmen but Sebek said that Malleus 'needs' his protection and Jack was just to tired from Spell Drive practice.

"They outta hurry up" Epel started, country accent slightly showing through "don't they know it's rude to be late."

A awkward silence fell over the dorm for a moment before a knock echoes through the dorm.

When y/n opened the dorm they were greeted with a cheerful smile and a hug.

"Thank you so much for inviting me!" Kalim smiled "I hope you don't mind that I brought Jamil, I also brought food, well Jamil did, he made it!"

Y/n blinked for a moment, taking in all the words one guy manged to say so fast. They looked over Kalim's shoulder just in time to see Jamil face plant.

"Thank you for the food Jamil" They smiled, giving him a wave.

"If was the least I could do perfect" he stated, not returning the wave.

Luckily Azul showed up before y/n could shut the door.

Just a few minutes later the group was playing some sort of trivia card game where they would either have to answer a question about someone else playing, a question about themselves, or just a random fact. If they got it wrong the next person would answer the same card, whoever got the most questions right won.

"Who is the most followed person in Magi Cam?" Epel read, "That's easy, Neige"

He revealed the answer to show it was correct.

"Of course you would get that one right" Ace complained "Vil never stops going on about it"

Every one just ignoring him looked over at Deuce, who was next to pick a card.

"How old is the person sitting to your right?" He looked over at y/n. "I'm not sure...18?"

They just shook their head.

"I know this one" Azul butted in, ready to take another point "Our contract from a while ago said that they were 16."

One again y/n shook their head. "I just turn 17 last month"

The room went silent for what seemed like forever.

"WE MISSED YOUR BIRTHDAY!" They all shouted in union.

"Riddle is going to have a heart attack when he finds out" Deuce commented, Ace nodding in agreement.

"You should've said something, we could've had a huge party" Kalim whined.

Y/n scratch the back of their head, "It's not big deal, it was right after one of the overblots, plus where I'm from birthdays aren't that big of a deal."

"Jamil we need to plan a party right now" Kalim said, getting up from his seat.

"We have to too" Ace said "Or get Trey and Riddle to do it for us"

Soon everyone had said something similar and got up and left leaving a confused Ramshackle perfect.

#kalim al asim #Jamil viper #azul ashengrotto #ace trapolla #deuce spade #epel felmier #grim twst #twst yuu #twst x reader #twst scenarios #twst x male reader #twst x female reader #Twst x reader

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carlyraejepsans · 11 months

Text

speaking of dr, there's something that really annoys me about how shallow the ship discourse around kr4lsei is. I'm not sure I'm 100% behind this for the same reasons i doubt toby will go full in with noelle's mom being abusive, ie "those are very delicate and complex topics to handle, does he have the time and space to deal with them in deltarune's story?" so take this with a grain of salt.

(warning for brief mention of incest, so I'm putting this under a readmore)

i think the discourse being framed as "thinking ralsei is presented as a romantic interest" vs "thinking ralsei is compared to kris' brother or like a family member" is incredibly stupid because those are... both true at the same time. yes, there's an unskippable "tunnel of love" scene, and it looks like ralsei could have somewhat of a crush on kris. but ralsei still 1) looks just like a dreemurr, 2) clearly plays, as a character, on our feelings and memories of asriel from playing undertale, as evident by their designs and their names being anagrams 3) i am 99% sure Noelle was going to say "that kinda looks like asriel" while looking at him eating cotton candy with Susie, and Susie herself suggests telling toriel he's "a long lost cousin". either way, if ralsei is meant to play on our feelings towards asriel, then as asriel's sibling, kris is likely gonna feel similarly.

are you uncomfortable? good! you should be. that's the point.

it's not random that the snowgrave route was framed and portrayed with the imagery of a wedding. first the freezering, then the thorn ring are explicitly compared to wedding rings. "we're just friends"/"we're something else". "YOU'VE BEEN MAKING [hyperlink blocked (...LoVE?)], HAVEN'T YOU?" noelle with whom kris had a strained relationship, whose feelings (platonic? romantic? we don't know) we brute force in what is the most chilling, manipulative, cruel iteration of chapter 2's story we could take... it's almost as if deltarune uses kris being forced into romantically coded situations they're deeply uncomfortable with as a way to showcase their lack of agency in the story.

and being pushed into romcom-like situations with a guy who looks like their brother works pretty darn well to follow that pattern, if you ask me.

now, if a forced romance with noelle represents their lack of agency in regards to the player, then... a forced romance with ralsei could represent their lack of agency towards Fate. The Plot/Story. unskippable cutscene, remember? not to mention ralsei's whole purposepilled shtick he clearly has a complex about.

this does raise a couple of questions about susie though, as the third option in the "who would you take to the fair with you" question, the one option kris seems to agree with, as well as being a character who is actively resisting the narrative.

because there's people who are very much FOR krusie, just as there are people against it, i doubt their getting or not getting together would work to represent kris gaining their agency back. and i believe i speak for everyone when i say that susie is going to play a huge part in that arc. either way, i'm curious to see how this develops.

idk! like i said, I'm not sure just how much toby is gonna go into this because it IS a very delicate subject. but it's an example of what i mean when i say "there's more to fandom than shipping" and "fixating so hard on Shipping Good Things" can be detrimental to analysis. I'm not cancelling anyone with this post, go on doing your thing whether it's kr4lsei or r4lsusie or krus1e. but if your first thought going into this was "I'm gonna ignore the part where the game compares ralsei to asriel because that would make my ship incest and that is Bad and uncomfortable" then... that's a very cheap way to interact with media? lol. sometimes being uncomfortable IS the point. god knows utdr makes you uncomfortable on purpose sometimes. ok rant over :P

#incest mention #entry log #deltarune #kris #ralsei #metanalysis

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ieatstarsforaliving · 6 months

Text

Denial (1)

Summary: Hazel and (Y/N) are the tributes from District 12 for the 74th Hunger Games. Hazel doesn't want to see (Y/N) die. And (Y/N) just wants to live.

Pairing: Tribute!Hazel Callahan x Tribute!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), (Y/N) is kind of a bitch but aren't we all when facing death, I swear she gets better, mentions of death and suicide, lots of mentions of violence with pretty graphic descriptions but it’s just depressive hunger game shit

Word Count: 2614

Note: I KNOW I said I’d write part 3 of Spiderwoman!Hazel Callahan BUT I suddenly craved angst and had to write this. I had to. Just let me post this today and I’ll give you Spiderwoman soon– I SWEAR. Also this is lowkey bad cause I have not written angst in a while. Idk. It's not gut-wrenching enough. I'll make it work somehow. - Bia <3

No.

Not you.

Anyone but you.

Hazel knows what the Hunger Games look like.

Violent. Callous. Sadistic.

None of those words resemble you.

Hazel watches as you walk towards the stage, each step weaker than the other. She thinks you’ll fall over, but you manage to stand beside the extravagantly dressed escort, who claps cheerily in your honor with a guiltless smile. As he chatters about his appreciation for the games, you are expressionless. Your fists are clenched, your eyes fixed on the crowd, blankly staring at the faces of the people who know you.

Hazel has never seen you so scared.

“Well, then, shake hands!” The escort chirps, pushing Hazel towards you.

There’s a pause before Hazel takes your hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

Please, please look at me, she thinks. It’s going to be okay–

-But when you do look at her, it's automatic. Empty. Involuntary, as if meaningless to share eyes with a future corpse. Hazel recognizes the shift of the dynamic between the two of you. She is no longer your neighbor, your classmate— no longer the girl you once kissed in the grounds of the forest.

-She is your rival.

Her eyes flick away from you. It feels like you can read what’s in her head, both the shock and the anguish. Hazel is not ready to deal with either.

So she drops your hand and looks away, staring at the camera zooming in on her face.

But in the second of eye contact, Hazel does notice this;

Grief has already struck your eyes.

The train ride is silent. The District 12’s assigned escort, who introduces himself as Meyers, continuously attempts to make conversation with either one of you, talking about what a privilege it is to be traveling to the Capitol.

You choose to be speechless, sitting on the plump green velvet chair with your legs pulled close to your chest. Hazel sits opposite to you, persistently peering while contemplating on how to start up a conversation— or maybe, not to start one at all.

You’ve been subtly ignoring her gaze, trying not to look deliberate in your avoidance. Staring at the passing trees out the window, you’re forced to picture the forest back at home— A hug of browns, shelter of extended limbs, sunlight filtered through the overlapping leaves above.

Along with the images of forest, you’re forced to remember.

It was a particularly cold morning when Hazel first found you in the heart of the woods, the chilling air hanging heavy with the scent of pine and coal. In your hands was a bleeding bird, fragile body betrayed by your well-aimed rock.

It turned out to be a mockingjay, and as the crimson stain spread across its black and white feathers, the satisfaction of your hunt waned. Your hunger persisted, but found yourself frozen. The irony of the prey was a slap in your face. A mockingjay– Why did it have to be a mockingjay? The failed muttation, the insult to the dystopia— the only thing in the world that seemed to be resisting the Capitol— and here you were, unwittingly taking its life.

Hazel approached you, and you flinched– but you didn’t run. You couldn’t, not when her eyes had such softness within them, as if forgiving your savage hand in place of the bird. Without uttering a word, she knelt beside you on the forest floor.

Her fingers dug through the dirt, prodding into her nails until a hole was made. Her hands were soiled but warm as she took the mockingjay from your hands, placing it in the makeshift resting place amidst the roots of a towering tree. You watched as she covered the bird with earth. She then took your hand and guided you back to the fence, back to the meadow, to the bakery, where she bought a small piece of bread in exchange for the shabby jewelry off her neck. You learned later the necklace was a gift from her absent father.

That was the Hazel you became used to. She was strong. Stronger than anyone you ever grew to know– as if to acknowledge that she could one day be standing in the arena. Yet you found her kindness to be her weakness. She never harmed anyone. Anything. She was a refuge from the harsh reality of the televised Hunger Games. And you kept coming back to her, mistaking the comfort for a shield against the brutality of the world. As if being close with her could protect you from any fucking thing. Perhaps that had prompted you to kiss her on that day, the day before the reaping, and all you could think about was how she didn’t push you away.

You snap out of your memories, the weight of the past and the jarring truth of the present boring down on you. You can’t handle either of those. You can’t handle looking at her. You can’t handle being in the same room as her. But the intensity of her gaze has burned into the side of your head, and you feel demanded to meet her eyes once more.

When you finally look at Hazel, her eyes widen.

She starts to open her mouth, on a pathway to a ramble, but the compartment door swings open, revealing a rough man with scruffy braids holding an explicit magazine.

Hazel recognizes him– the only winner left alive from the Hunger Games from District 12. He’s notably muscular, with tattoos that circulate his stocky arms along with a rugged beard to match his image.

He is Hunger Games winner material, Hazel thinks, and feels considerably feeble in comparison.

The man looks around the room.

“Man, I got stuck with two girls this time?”

Hazel starts, “G–”

“-Mr. G to you. I may look like this, but I’m still your mentor.”

You stare at the man as he disappointingly analyzes his two mentees. He decides you’re not promising enough, not giving more than two seconds to consider you two before plopping on the green velvet seat and flipping through his magazine featuring a barely-clothed capitol woman.

“You’re supposed to give us advice,” Hazel mutters.

He scoffs in response, “I’ll give you advice; don’t die too quickly.”

“So you think we have a chance?”

“Hell no,” Mr. G laughs. “Look at you two.”

You and Hazel stare at him. He notices the angry silence.

“Alright. I’ll help y’all.” He shrugs, not looking up from the magazine. “When you arrive, you’re going to be grabbed by the most annoying sons-of-bitches who're gonna get y’all cleaned up and pretty to parade around the Capitol. It’s gonna suck. But you deal with it. No complaining. No resisting. You deal with it. Then you get in the arena, let them throw you around for a bit, and then find something visibly mild to kill yourselves with.”

Hazel stiffens at the line.

“What is wrong with you?” You shout, your voice laced with anger. “My life is on the line.”

Mr. G glances at you with a raised eyebrow, indifferent. “Welcome to the Hunger Games, darlin’. You think having a different mindset is gonna keep you alive?”

“You’re supposed to be our mentor,” Hazel says, her voice trembling. “You’re supposed to help us survive.”

“Survive? You kids from District 12 don’t survive. You endure. You endure and you die. There’s a difference.” He emphasizes on the words ‘die’ and Hazel wants to throw up. “It’s just like the year before this and the year before that.”

“So you’re just giving up?” You push yourself to your feet and step towards him. There’s resentment in your words, clawing at the lifeline that is supposed to be your mentor. “You’re pathetic.”

Mr. G gets up from his seat, looming over your frame. Unwavering, you glare at him. He lets out a chuckle, a brief moment of consideration flickering across his features. Then he pulls back his fist.

In an instant, Hazel rushes in front of you, her body bracing for impact. His fist swings towards you, but it doesn’t land on your face. Instead, it meets Hazel’s, sending her backwards to the floor. The collision makes Mr. G stumble back a step, surprise evident in his eyes.

Hazel groans, rubbing her cheekbone but gets up again, standing in front of you with a defensive stance.

“Ah, I understand now.” Mr. G gawks at Hazel, amused. “The fighter and her protector.”

Then he starts laughing, slowly staggering away from the two of you, walking out of the compartment with his dirty magazine still in his hand. Meyers quickly trails behind him, muttering something about tributes being barbarians and forcefully shuts the door with a resounding bang.

Hazel turns to you, hoping her face isn't red. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t.”

Hazel blinks, taken aback. You’ve pulled away from her, creating a perceptible distance, your face flushed in an unknown emotion.

“I–”

“-Don’t do that.”

Hazel recognizes the barrier you’re attempting to draw between the two of you. She refuses to accept it and steps closer.

“Don’t,” you insist. “Don’t come closer. Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me. We’re nothing.”

“We’re friends,” Hazel protests.

“No,” you correct her, your voice cracking. “We stopped being friends when we were picked to kill each other. If we hadn’t—”

If we hadn’t kissed, killing you would be easier.

You stop.

Hazel shakes her head, her expression in disbelief. “You’re the one who kissed me.”

She steps closer. You retreat.

“Hazel, stop, please–”

She watches as your body begins to shake. A whimper escapes your lips, which is quickly covered by your hand. Then you’re sobbing uncontrollably, covering your reddened face as a means to hide yourself, but the tears manage to escape from the gaps between your fingers, soaking the condemned dress that you only wear on reaping days.

“I- I don’t–”

Hazel steps closer. “I know.”

“I don’t want to die,” You croak. “I want don't want to die. I don’t want to kill. I don’t–”

-I don’t want to kill you.

The unsaid words ring around the room as Hazel pulls you into her arms. You don’t hesitate to hide your face into her neck, crying earnestly, body burning and painful, teeth clenched as the tears drip off your jaw and you refuse to let your lip quiver like a child. Hazel holds you tighter and presses her hand against the back of your head.

Hazel wants to say something. She opens her mouth.

Then she starts to cry.

As much as she hates Mr. G, he is right about the clean-up process before officially entering the capitol; it sucks.

After arrival, the two of you were separated to different rooms with different stylists. Hazel’s stylist has been going about Hazel for two hours, scrubbing down her body with soaps of intense fragrance, trimming the nails into a smooth oval shape, rubbing makeup over her fresh bruise, painting on her eyelids, and primarily, getting rid of her body hair. She lays on the cold metal bed, barely clothed, as the hairs on her arms, underarms, eyebrows, nose– even places that shouldn’t matter being robbed of its hair. Hazel ignores the soreness of fabric being stripped from her leg, tearing out the hairs beneath it.

Instead, Hazel thinks about killing.

She thinks about the physicality of it. The impact of the blow, the act of stabbing, the struggle of choking someone. She assumes there would be weapons in the arena, there always is. But even back at home, she’s never crossed the line of killing even the smallest of creatures, not even when she was desperately hungry. But laying on the cold metal bed of the stylist’s office, she almost regrets the lack of practice. The visceral brutality, the raw and primal surge that accompanies violence— she’s unsure of it all.

Then she thinks about you.

She pictures a hand wrapped around your neck, slitting the flesh, warm liquid seeping through the fingernails— and the victim writhing, clawing, screaming— then finally falling limp.

Hazel pales at the image. At the same time, she feels a particular jerk at her leg once again, and the stylist squeals the words, “Perfection! You’re beautiful!”

She is ushered to sit up as the stylist grabs a cart filled with combs, bottles, and other products that Hazel doesn’t recognize. A mirror is passed, and Hazel blinks harshly at her reflection. She can see that she looks so… Capitol. Everything about her is enhanced; from hermetically coiffed eyebrows to her skin, perfectly shaped and painted, devoid of blemishes. The bruise from her mentor is gone, too. There's light bits of glitter on above her eyes, amplifying her blue eyes while giving her a much softened look.

She looks like a tribute.

“I really do wish you hadn’t cut your hair like this,” the stylist whines as she ruffles Hazel’s messy head with a sigh. A hairstyle she fearlessly trimmed with a pocket knife, now being sprayed by a sour, citrus themed liquid. “You are such a pretty girl. Perhaps we should glue a wig to your head.”

“Don’t.”

Hazel turns towards the voice.

It’s you. You’re peering through the doorway, your entire form stripped and peeled away just as she is. Hazel does a visible double-take when she sees you, swallowing hard while staring at your half-naked body. She gazes at you, taking in the transformation that the Capitol has imposed on your appearance.

If she thought you were beautiful before, she thinks you’re breathtaking now.

“I like her hair,” You murmur, walking towards the bed. Hazel instinctively reaches up to touch her trimmed mullet, as if to confirm that it’s still there.

“I suppose I can work with a tomboy image. Oh, I see a vision! I’ll be back,” The stylist sings to herself, running out of the room with a sudden enthusiasm.

Hazel is still staring at you.

You shrug. “How do I look?”

Like a lamb to slaughter.

“You… look different,” She says. “I don’t mean it’s bad. It’s good. But it’s also…”

“I know,” you sigh, sitting beside Hazel’s bed. “A true depiction of Capitol beauty.”

“It could be worse,” Hazel starts. “We could be naked and covered in soot for the opening ceremony.”

You laugh, knowing that the only thing District 12 is known for are coals. And there’s not many costumes you can be inspired by coals. Hazel smiles at your laughter, feeling instantly better. It’s a sound she hasn’t heard since the forest, as if a piece of home has been brought back to life. Although the room is cold and metallic, there’s warmth in between the two of you.

Her gaze lingers on your transformed appearance. With the grime and dirt from the District rubbed off, you seem so fragile, so innocent, so out of place in the cruelty of the Capitol. None of you belong in that arena. And all of a sudden anger rises in Hazel. She wants the Capitol to burn. She wants the Capitol to burn for what it does to innocent lives like yours.

Your laughter eases and you’re left staring back at Hazel. The forest and the Capitol are vastly different places. Even the silence is different. Back there, it was a pleasure to be silent. Here, silence is almost sickening. Still, your warmth persists.

“I’m serious about winning," You say.

Hazel holds your gaze.

“I know.”

She offers her hand. You take it. And for a long time, neither of you speak. You just breathe and cling to each other, lost in a moment that's become heavier with your words.

There is a brief pause before the full effect of everything comes barreling towards Hazel. She ignores it.

Instead, Hazel thinks about dying.

Next Chapter: Anger

(Guys I don't know how a taglist works so just comment "Tag me next chapter or" "tag me in all upcoming chapters" on THIS POST if you want to be tagged ok???)

@vster0769 @milktea-academia <333

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms movie #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan x you #the hunger games #hunger games au #hazel callahan angst

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thoughtsfromlayla · 2 months

Text

Love and Loss

Summary: Despite being married for centuries, the two lovers have yet to produce an heir. Desperate for a child, she makes a deal with Phanes, God of Life, unbeknownst to her that motherhood has its own complications much like love and marriage. Now she must find a way to save both her child and her love.

Notes: ~11k words, only lightly edited... so yeah. Also, this is my first time posting any of my writing so I'm nervous as fuuuuck. I keep switching between past and present tense but I think I caught them all but idk. Let me know if I miss any tags or warnings! (There's so many plot holes but shhhh)

Warnings: MDNI - 18+ content, one use of Y/N but written in 3rd person, Reader has a "name" that's only used twice, pregnancy, loss of pregnancy, metaphorical use of surrogation, usage of miscarriage themes, jealousy, P in V, oral (F! receiving), unprotected sex, jealous Dream but that's to be expected really, regency-esque, diverges from cannon

Masterlist

================================================

Despite having been in the Dreaming for so long, its frigid air was something she could never get used to. The temperature always fixed itself somewhere between an unheated house on a winter’s day and a spring day in the shade. Despite her title in the realm, she always felt like a child walking to the kitchen late at night to grab a snack whenever she meanders into the great hall.

The castle of the Dreaming was her home, and she was the owner in every right as her husband. A small black cat accompanies her, its green collar and bell jingle with each step in its preppy trot. Her Lady wore simple garments, a dark green dress with slits to match her feline friend. Its light-weight fabric billows around her with a breeze that never seems to stop and some golden jewelry decorated her neck and arms, all gifts from his Lord. She opted to walk barefoot, skin to soil, so as not to hurt her feet necessarily before the upcoming dinner the Dreaming would host later today—the idea her own entirely that her husband agreed to for her sake.

Her legs move her toward the throne room, where she is certain her husband presides. Still, her feet are cold and thus she picks up the pace. Her steps are lighthearted as she prances on her tiptoes, heels dangling from her fingers.

Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of the Nightmare Realms, Prince of Stories. She was sure there were more, but if she were to start listing them all in her head, she’d be stuck there all day. Morpheus was as old as humanity itself, perhaps even older. But as she sees him spread out on his throne, the air of authority is never questioned. Age has only made him more intimidating.

Morpheus commands any space he enters. His shadow fills each nook and cranny it seemed fit, aura chilling and distant. Yet he himself was a beautiful creature indeed. His modern form molded himself into a lean body, distinct muscle lines, and a strong jaw. His dark hair always looked tousled as if he had rolled out of bed a mere minute ago, and despite how often she would run her hair through the silky strands, they never behaved as they should have.

“Wife, mine,” Morpheus greets as she nears the bottom of the stairs. “What ails you to seek me out?”

The Lady smiles and gives a small curtsy before she ascends the curved stairs. “Nothing ails me, my lord. Must one have a reason to see her husband?”

Morpheus lets out an entertained breath before opening his arms in invitation. Another graceful smile appears on her lips as she sits comfortably in his lap, his arms encircling her.

“No, I suppose not,” He replies. He watches as she makes herself as comfortable as she can, leaning her head on his shoulder in a way that wouldn’t mess up her hair. The handmaidens would not stop fussing over it if a single strand was out of place from their original design.

“I simply wish to spend some time with you before our feast. I fear that I will be whisked away as I entertain guests for the evening.” She closes her eyes and steadies herself on the patterned breathing of her husband.

“I will stay by your side if you so command it,” Morpheus says. He runs his thumb in circles on her bare shoulder.

“And have everyone afraid to approach me? With your dark and brooding act?” She jests, her eyes opening briefly to look into his.

He can’t help his eyes rolling at her slight tease. “As you wish, my love.”

The two lovers sit for a moment. The sounds of her cat purring and their breaths mingling fill the air. But serenity such as this never lasts long in a castle like theirs. Lucienne comes from a hallway, presumably, the library’s, dressed up as well. Her coat was tailored to fit her body, her shoes freshly shined, and her glasses cleaned.

She gives a curt bow to the two sovereigns. “My lord, my lady,” She addresses. “The guests will be arriving soon.”

“Thank you, Lucienne,” Her lady says. She reluctantly releases herself from the warmth of her husband and uses the throne as a brace to put on her shoes. Her husband’s hand rests on the small of her back to further assist her.

“I will see you very soon, my king,” She says leaning down to peck his cheek before descending the stairs. She looks back once with another smile and then follows Lucienne to greet the arriving guests.

Morpheus’s eyes watch her figure until she turns a corner. He was still underdressed, his day previously preoccupied with trying to find a certain nightmare. He was simply idling on his throne in a simple black attire with his long coat. After all, a king need not worry about how he looks if he commands respect without golden bribes. With a wave of his hand, sand befalls him and covers him like ivy to a broken wall. When they recede he is dawning a tight button-up undershirt and vest, its fabric weaved with intrinsic cloud-like designs. His coat is now replaced with another of a similar shape and design but resembles cotton instead of the original felt. He fastens the raven cufflinks and smooths down his pants before rising from his throne and going to the Dreaming’s castle garden.

When Morpheus enters the gardens he immediately spots his wife at the entrance, standing underneath a pergola of purple wisterias and climbing hydrangeas. The flowers slowly lean towards the goddess as her presence fuels them by simple proximity. Her cat is nowhere to be seen and probably ran off into the gardens after a rodent caught his eye.

Morpheus slides up beside his wife as she greets the last of the guests arriving. He turns his head towards the decorated table and can see a great spread of gods, goddesses, fairies, nymphs, and other mystical creatures that his wife had managed to befriend—the feeling of her arm wrapping around his redirects his attention.

“Shall we, lord husband?” She gives him another one of her smiles and he understands how the hanging flowers feel. How he had ever lived without her before was still a mystery to him. To be him without her, it is like the Earth without its Sun - and he wishes to always feel the gravitational pull of her love.

Morpheus leads them towards the aggregation of guests, all of whom devote their attention to them.

“Beloved guests,” His wife starts speaking in her nectar-like tone, “Despite what is currently happening in the waking world, we are pleased that you could make time and attend this wondrous dinner.”

The goddess pauses for a brief moment as her guests clap in agreement. When they stop, she continues. “The feast is served buffet style, please eat and enjoy yourself to the fullest content. The Dreaming is here for your convenience.”

With her open palm, a long table appears with dishes of all types. Wreaths and fresh flowers decorate any empty space, which is to say, not much. Lambs, beef, and several types of poultry and fish take centerpieces along the table. Fruits, vegetables, and freshly baked bread weave in between the large plates as palate cleansers and small plates appear on the very corners of the table. A satisfied smile appeared on Her Lady’s face as the guests began grabbing food.

As the dust settles and smaller niches of guests start grouping, Morpheus is displeased when his wife leaves his side to mingle amongst the other gods. He watches from the shadows, small fruit plate in hand, glooming as she smiles with her guests. A hand comes up to hide her mouth as she laughs at something Phanes, God of Life, said. Jealousy brews and grows bitter like spoiled milk.

Morpheus stands, ready to come to his wife’s side in hopes of deterring the god, but before he can a nymph comes forward and gives an exaggerated curtsy. He can’t help the slight roll of his eyes as she begins to talk him up. The nymph’s voice carries a small lithe to it and he becomes unfocused, only noticing the movement of his wife’s green dress and Phanes walking off into the hedge labyrinth.

A frown etches itself onto his face. The nymph choosing to ignore the frown finds the courage to lift a mossy hand to caress his coat’s lapel, to which the Endless notices. Morpheus looks down at the nymph, his hand tightly grabbing into her wrist and dropping it away from him.

“Do not presume you may touch me, insolent child.” His voice is deep and grave as his frown deepens.

The nymph’s face contorted into embarrassment as red poppies boom across her cheeks and ears. She briskly walks away, forgetting to curtsy, with her tail tucked between her legs. The forest nymph looks forward to the next time she meets the Dream King, but she does not know that this will be the last time the doors of the Dreaming will open to her.

Dream makes a beeline towards the hedge labyrinth, taking a right turn as he had witnessed his wife doing moments ago. But, as something as lucid as the Dreaming, the labyrinth path twists and turns in new ways each moment. Morpheus turns left and right based on where he could feel his wife’s presence, but seems that she does not want to be found.

As a deity in her own right, should she so command it, she would not be found. Something that the Endless found infuriating at the moment. What could she possibly be doing with Phanes? Did she invite him for a personal reason? Was the dinner event a ruse so she could speak with him without raising any questions? Well, Morpheus surely was starting to ask questions.

Jealously turned into guilt quickly like the crack of a lightning bolt. Has he not been a good husband? Was she getting bored of their marriage? It has been several centuries, after all. Guilt turned into sadness as the questions he asked started bringing down his spirit. Surely there is something he can do to make her happy again. Surely she is faithful, surely, surely, surely…

Morpheus stands still, the drive to find his wife lost. The hedge leaves shiver as the temperature grows colder from the king’s mood. The lovely sunset leaves the last of its warmth before disappearing, leaving the sky full of stars. He turns around and retraces his steps, if his wife does not want to be found, he will grant her this wish.

Morpheus would never admit to anyone that he mopes. But with his sluggish walk and downturned lips, he clearly was. He sees his wife had made it out of the labyrinth quite some time ago and is already waving her guests goodbye, Phanes nowhere in sight. When she sees him emerging from the hedges, she perks up and excuses herself from her conversation.

“Dear husband, where did you run off to? Too many people in your presence?” She jokes, latching herself onto his arm.

“I was merely looking for you,” Morpheous murmurs. He starts walking with her back to the castle.

He waits as his wife takes a pause, slowing down in step. “You followed me into the labyrinths?”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“Yes…” He draws out, trying to tread lightly, hoping that she would open up without much prompting. “I saw you and Phanes entering together.”

An amused huff escapes her. “I see.”

The silence lingers like the plague: uncomfortable and heavy in the air.

“Will you not speak as to why?” He questions and he almost hates how desperate he sounds.

The lady takes a seat on his throne, only to lean down and take off her shoes with a satisfied sigh. She rubs the ankles of her foot when she speaks again. “I believe it to be a personal matter.”

The answer was vague, and Morpheous hated it. Angry, gray storm clouds formed overhead and the ice-cold rain started to hit the stained glass behind her.

“Am I not worth sharing with?” He asks again, but he doesn’t stop to let her answer. With her eyes wide in surprise, he continues. “Am I not good enough? Faithful enough? Am I not devoted enough to you, my love? Will you command me to beg on my knees, I shall if you so ask.”

He falls to his knees before her and runs his hands from her ankle to her knee, slowly, deliberately. His lips follow soon after, tracing the same path his fingers had. Her breath hitches and her hearts start beating faster.

“How can I show my devotion to you, my love?” He kisses.

“My wife?” He kisses again.

“My forever goddess?” And again.

“Morpheus,” She breathes out, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. She is all he ever wants to breathe and all he wants to taste.

“I pray to Daleena, Goddess of Husbandry, for forgiveness. I have left my wife unsatisfied and feel the crop of our love withered. I shall repent for my sins by your guidance.” Morpheus says in a hushed tone as he slowly inches higher on her leg.

The goddess feels power surge through her as the prayer leaves her husband's lips, and she craves the touch of them on her own. Heat pools between her legs as her husband’s breath fans across her lower regions. Her dress slits exposed her legs deliciously to Morpheous but there were still her undergarments, which he removed slowly, keeping contact with her silky skin as it slid down.

Her Lady looks down at him with uneven breaths and waits for him to give her what she wants. Morpheus, however, is patient. He traces his lips higher, he kisses all the spots she wants, but not where she needs it the most.

“Morpheus,” She pleads, and it is all he needs. One moment it is the cold air of the Dreaming and the next it is the warmth of his lips, tongue languishing the length of her slit.

She jerks in place, strong hands holding down her hips. Her own hands shoot out, desperate to grab onto anything. One, bear-clawed and desperate, on the arm of the throne and the other weaving itself into the silky strands of her husband. She gasps at the wet sensation and her head is thrown back in pleasure.

The Endless is unmovable, driven solely by the purpose of satisfying his wife. A low groan emits from deep in his throat at the unapologetic sounds she cries, babbling in a series of his name and other obscenities. He tilts his head higher until he finds her clit and relishes in the pain of her nails in his hair, lapping at her arousal with contentment until it drips down his chin. He is a starved man and she is his salvation.

Morpheus continues his demonstrations, alternating between her clit and her needy cunt. She clenches her thighs hard as she feels the impending rise of her orgasm. Her fingertips buzz with excitement as he continues to ravish her sensitive clit. His pace continues, and her eyes roll to the back of her head.

She calls out his name again, and a high-pitched whine leaves her lips as he easily adds two digits into her weeping hole. He moves them slowly, slightly curved to touch that delicious spot inside her that has her arching her back taught like a bow. From below, Morpheus looks at her through his lashes, and he can’t help the smirk that tugs on his lips as his wife tries to thrash from the sensations. She tightens around him, cunt pulsing sporadically, and he is flooded with her orgasm where he drinks greedily from the taste - sweet like a plentiful summer wine.

He places a final gentle kiss on her clit before looking at her again, the skin of her extremities glowing ethereally as she tries to control her ragged breaths. She is still in the midst of her orgasm, trying to calm herself from the high and he finds it the perfect time to leave a bruising hickey on the inside of her plush thighs. Morpheus gets up, dick painfully hard as it brushes against his pants. He takes hold of her hands to help her stand on wobbly legs and leans back.

He leans until he falls, through the throne room floor and then onto the plushness of their shared bed. His command dematerializes both of their clothes and he basks in the sticky warmth of his wife on top of him. He runs light fingers down her spine, shivers following behind like a loyal companion, whispering sweet nothings into her ears.

“Come back to me,” He murmurs, kissing her sweat-filled brow.

“Hmm,” The goddess exhales after a few more seconds of silence, eyes opening languishingly, lashes tickling the skin of her husband.

She looks around the dimly lit room for a moment before realizing that she is in their bed. Using her husband’s chest, she props herself up, effectively straddling him beneath her. Morpheus remains unmoving, ignoring the way his tip brushes against her lower lips, only messaging the meat of her hips with his thumb.

When she meets his eyes again, he speaks. “Have I proven myself, dear wife?”

It takes a moment for the goddess to remember what he was talking about and her feelings crash down again. “You had never needed to prove yourself to me, Morpheus. What happened between me and Phanes will remain between me and Phanes.”

She lifts herself on sore thighs, but can’t get far as gentle hands turn rough. The next moment, she is lying down with her husband looming over her. There was not enough light to illuminate his face, leaving only the impression of his merciless, mercury eyes. Deep down, she knows no harm will ever befall her, but in this moment, something primal presents itself.

Perhaps it is how his eyes bore into her very soul, to the very moment she was born several millennia ago. Or perhaps, she was just crazy about how his touch was driving her mad. She was very aware of the appendage that settled between the two of them and the way that her slick was coating it. His hands cup her cheek and slide down her neck and her head tilts back at the ticklish and yet pleasurable sensation. She swallows thickly and a broken sigh escapes her as his hand ghosts over her nipple.

Shivers bloom once more as his mouth incloses over the perk nipple, suckling at it in a way that has her legs wrapping around his waist. Her arms come up and snake over his shoulders, fingers gliding over the smooth marble-like skin, then resting behind his neck. One of her hands finds itself back into his hair, clenching as he gives continuous pleasure to her body.

Her hips buck up, her pussy clenching down on nothing. Cold fingers glide down the center of her stomach, going lower and lower until they cup her heat. A thumb gently circles her clit, understanding the overstimulation it recently received. They trace over her outer lips, downwards, then upwards again, coating themselves with a mixture of spit and arousal.

Morpheus removes himself from her breasts and presses his lips at the junction between her neck and shoulder. He licks at the sweat that accumulates on her collarbone and continues up her neck. When he faces her again, he speaks.

“Beg for it.” He commands.

Her Lady remains silent, slowly chewing on the inside of her lip, weighing the options in her head. Morpheus, as always, is patient and he continues running his fingers between her folds, keeping his pace but occasionally rubbing his pointer finger in circles around her clit. When she realizes that he really would just keep rubbing her and nothing else, she opens her mouth.

“P-please,” She stutters, the mere idea of begging or pleading foreign on her tongue. As a goddess, one would never allow such lowly behavior. Nevertheless how her husband will give her whatever she asks for.

Morpheus hums in approval, removing his hand to hold his dick instead. He rubs it this time in lieu of his fingers around her cunt and the goddess almost begs again. Before she can, a moan releases from both of them as he inserts himself into her and she whimpers at the familiar dull ache of being stretched out. Morpheus dips his head between her neck and shoulder again and remains stiff, feeling the warmth that only his wife can provide.

He pulls out and she mews beneath him in pleasure, ushering him to fill her up once again. Her cunt sucks him back and he wraps one of his arms underneath her waist to ground him. The other slams against the headboard of the bed, and he grabs on for all he is worth. His thrusts grow harder as her cries grow louder and he feels the way she clenches down on him.

“How divine you are, my love,” He says with a shaky breath, kissing more bruising hickeys that he hopes will last for millennia. He blows cold air over them and goosebumps rise in place, her back arching again and he can feel each perk nipple rubbing against his chest.

She moans his name again, losing herself in each drag of his cock, screaming curses when the head brushes against her sensitive spot, and whimpering when it kisses her cervix. Morpheus rises, looking down on his wife with half-lidded eyes, running a hand down between the valley of her breasts, feeling each desperate breath of air. He goes lower and groans when he sees how the two of them are connected.

Each thrust creates an unholy, slick noise and he can see the inflamed clit begging for attention. He presses his fingers on her lower stomach and she cries out for him.

“Can you feel me, my Queen?” He growls down at her, feeling the way his dick moves within her.

“Yes!” She cries back, her brows furrow and her cunt pulses around him, gripping him like a vice.

“Do you love me, my Queen?” He asks again.

“Yes!” She cries again. She starts begging again. Please, please, please, please. “Don’t stop, please my King. Please, don’t stop!”

“Will you tell me why you spoke with Phanes?” His last question.

Her eyes snap open, all the build up from her orgasm lost in the question. With her legs still around his waist, she twists her hips and topples Morpheus over until he is beneath her again.

“No,” She whispers, rocking her hips back and forth to regain the momentum they had lost.

This time, it is him who pleads. “Please,” He whispers back. His hands cup at the roundness of her ass cheeks, loving how soft they were.

She increases the ferocity of her grinds, looking down at her husband like he had just done with her. His head tosses back and she loves watching his Adam’s apple slide up and down his throat as he moans for her. His eyes are squeezed shut and his grip tightens but she doesn’t relent.

That familiar searing hot feeling appears again in her lower stomach and with one final grind she releases her orgasm all over him, falling onto his heaving chest. Morpheus cums right after, shooting his release into her in hot loads and she feels each jolt inside of her.

Her orgasm rocks through her body, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time. It tingles in her fingers and toes and when she closes her eyes, she sees the stars of the Dreaming shinging back at her. When she comes back to her senses (again) she can feel her husband’s hand running through her bed hair, untangling it as much as he could with the one hand. The other hand holds her waist flush with his. The two lovers share a quiet moment after their throw of passion before she speaks again.

“Phanes and I…” She starts, and she can feel Morpheus stiffen under her. She groans as his cock is still deep in her, semi-hard and the only thing keeping them together.

She shifts a bit and some of their combined release pool down onto his abdomen. He would never admit to her how filthy he thought it was, nor the fact that he loved it all the same.

“Yes?” Morpheus urges, looking down at her on his chest with full attention.

“We made a deal.” She finishes her sentence.

Everything stops as Morpheus sits up. “What deal did you strike? I can do it instead, terminate the deal at once, my love.” He says with anxiety.

His wife grabs onto him as she is rocked back and a smile appears on her face. “Morpheus, my love, you have done your part.” Her smile turns sad and a forlorn look cloaks her face and she casts her gaze downwards. “We just needed some extra help.”

A confused look crosses Morpheus’s face. He brings a hand to lift her chin to look at him. With the raise of an eyebrow, he doesn’t have to say anything for his wife to know he wants a better explanation.

“I asked for a child, Morpheus.”

When her husband remains quiet, her lips start to tug downwards and his heart lurches at the sight. Her waterline soon floods with tears.

“We have not been able to produce an heir once.” She says, voice wavering. She dares not to blink for she is afraid if a single tear were to fall, all of them would.

“What in return?” He asks.

“I look after his pet snake for a weekend.” She replies simply. Morpheus has returned to his previous position.

The tears start to fall, each fat drop hitting his skin seemingly striking him directly in the heart. “You need not worry, wife. This time it will take, with Phanes’s help or not.” He whispers into the crown of her head.

She nods once, sniffling as her nose starts to run, too. The rhythmic breathing below her and the continued brushing of her hair rocks her to a dreamless sleep. Morpheus wraps his arms protectively around her frame and should he have known, he would’ve stayed longer. He would’ve held her tighter, kissed her longer, and promised her that he would be there when she woke. Alas, there was a missing nightmare, rampaging through the waking world, something that was his responsibility as king.

When she wakes up the next morning, with a satisfying ache throughout her body, the bed was cold and empty, and her husband was nowhere to be seen. To say that this was new behavior would be a lie, unfortunately. The number of times that a night of passionate love-making ended in a cold and lonely morning was more than she could count on her fingers and toes. That isn’t to say that Morpheus didn’t want to stay in bed with her, it’s simply a sovereign that understands his responsibilities, and she could never blame her husband for that.

Avoiding the difficult conversation the two lovers shared last night, her Lady avoids the locations her husband is most likely to reside in. Instead, she chooses to look towards her duties in the Dreaming. She finds herself amongst a simple dream from a small farmer who looks after sheep, who struggles with getting their weight to increase during the harsh winters. Carefully, she admits herself to him, dressed in a light yellow dress, sunflowers decorating the fabric and her hair. Her hands were covered in dirt, and she held a shepherd’s crook that had a bell attached to the end.

The farmer looks up from his rocking chair, prized sheep chewing lazily around him, and smoke from his pipe circles him. His face was rough - old and wrinkled from long days in the sun during his youth. But she smiles gently at him when his laugh lines appear around the edges of his eyes and mouth.

She stands next to him and they stare out on his flock together. He shares his life story. The story of a young boy whose father was also a farmer, and his father before him, and his father before him. He talks about his first puppy, named Barkly, his first love, whom he lost after he was drafted into the First World War, and how he now finds solitude with his late wife’s grave and his grandchildren.

He mentions that he needs to fatten his sheep up for the winter as he can’t lose any more stock so he may afford medicine for his sick grandson. He confesses that he has tried everything and nothing seems to have worked. He looks up at her now, tired, and slumped over, and realization dawns on his face as she smiles down at him.

She whispers at him a simple solution, one he can’t quite hear over the muddle of a dream. He stands abruptly as her figure distorts, the dawn is rising and a farmer’s body rises with it. He thanks her - he offers a sheep for her, which she nods at before he wakes from his dream.

The goddess visits a few more dreams, each giving her ethereal presence. Some were like the one she was just at, some needed comfort from the loss of animals, and some dreamed of a new pet to have. By the 5th dream, she realizes that several days had passed in the waking world, and her husband was nowhere to be found.

She admits to herself that she had been avoiding him longer than she intends, but perhaps it was time to face him again. She teleports to the castle, summoning herself before the drawbridge of the magnificent building. The ivory dragon perks up at her arrival, but otherwise pays no attention to her, going back to hoarding its gold coins, a few of them falling when she crosses the large doors.

As always, the castle is slightly colder than what she likes. A small sense of deja vu encapsulates her as she walks to the all-familiar throne room. This time, however, it was empty. No figure on the throne, nor the stairs as he sometimes preferrs it. Odd, she thinks, but not impossible. So she turns a corner to the library, she often finds him here as well, looking over the books of his dreamers. She searches high and low, through each aisle and reading spot, but still nothing. Anxiety and thoughts of doubt begin to fill her. Perhaps she did mess up, making that deal with Phanes.

Her last stop was Cain and Able’s homes. She finds the two brothers in front of their own homes, tending to their garden and playing with the gargoyle that Morpheus had given them. The two were of no help as they were unable to answer something worthy of even a hint of where her husband was.

She rolls her eyes as the walk away from their homes was accompanied by the sound of a scream and the resolute bang of a metal shovel hitting a skull.

As her last resort, she calls for Lucienne. Often, she hopes to never bother her, understanding that the work she puts into maintaining the Dreaming is never-ending. And, she knew that if she were to ask something of her, Lucienne would stop everything to help her.

“His Lord left several nights ago to fetch the Corinthian,” She spoke, pushing up her round glasses.

“And since then?” She questions, her hands wringing with themselves. She hopes for an answer she knows she won’t get.

Lucienne shakes her head no. “My Lady, Jessamy hasn’t returned either. Perhaps his Lord is simply taking longer than usual.”

“Let us hope,” She says defeated.

For the next few months, the goddess stays within the Dreaming. Each day that passes, more hope was lost for her husband's return. Doubt and anxiety cloud her mind at the uncertain future.

She looks down at her stomach, a distinguishable bump had made its appearance and she rubs it gently with her hand. The deal with Phanes went through, she is with child. She should be happy right? Except for the obvious fact that Morpheus still had not returned.

Her cat lounges at her feet where she sits and she pets its head. With a trill, it looks at her, similar mercury eyes of her husband stares back. She had no choice but to find him herself.

“Go,” She asks of it. “Go to the waking world, find Morpheus.”

The cat sits up and stretches, hind high in the air. Its claws grips into the plush carpet it rests on. With another stretch to its lower back, it trots off, the jingling sounds of its bell disappearing as it crosses over to the waking world.

All the goddess could do was wait and hope. She runs another anxious hand across her stomach and a tear escapes her.

Lucienne had mentioned it to her in passing a few days ago. The librarian stated that it probably was nothing to worry about, but the conversation had stuck with the goddess since.

The Dreaming is dying.

As much as the Dreaming is hers through marriage, it is suffering without its true ruler in the realm. She could see it in the dying leaves and small cracks of the castle. The ivory dragon that rests above the castle has gotten more restless in the past few weeks. And despite her best efforts to comfort the animal, the dragon did not listen to the Goddess of Husbandry.

This brings up a second concern of hers. The child she carries is as much a part of her as it is the Dreaming’s. It embodies a part of the Dream Lord and if the Dreaming is suffering, there stands to reason that her husband is suffering as well. If both of these entities are suffering, what is to happen to her child?

This child that she already loves until she is forgotten and nothing but stardust and she had been asking for centuries. This child that Morpheus is finally ready to love after the untimely death of his son. She must find Morpheus, and soon.

For the sake of the Dreaming and her child.

Several more weeks pass and her cat had yet to come back. She only hopes that it was due to the difficulty of finding an Endless and not because it got distracted with a family whose heart was big enough to take in a “stray” cat. Each day that passes, she grows significantly weaker. The prayers of her followers still ring in her ears, but she could not leave the Dreaming to help her devotees.

Another war broke out among the humans, the one they call World War II. Less and fewer people were crossing over into the dreaming and slowly, the once beautiful realm was losing its colors. The goddess couldn’t stop the residents of the realm from leaving its gates, the Dreaming was no longer a place they wished to stay. Furthermore, there weren’t enough dreamers for them to bother staying. She only remains thankful for those who decided to stay.

She sits on Morpheus’ throne, the castle colder than ever. Behind her, the once beautiful stained glass had shattered. The Corinthian had still not been captured, or else her husband would have been home and Fiddler’s Green had decided to leave. She runs a hand through her hair at the issues that seem to keep piling up. As she ignores her prayers, her powers start to wane. Fewer and fewer people were still believing in her.

And how could she blame them? She hasn’t made herself present in any of their prayers and with the war, people were less concerned about animals and more about themselves. She sighs.

A sharp pain yanks her out of her thoughts and a scream rips from her throat. She doubles over from the throne and kneels, hunching over on the floor. The pain spreads across her lower abdomen and a shaking hand holds her stomach. Immediately she knew something was wrong and it involved the safety of her child.

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, too focused on staying conscious. The throne room was empty, her fall echoed around and bounced across the wide walls. When she thought the pain was over, she took in a large breath, inhaling shakily in gulps.

Salvation lasts a few seconds before another wave of pain overwhelms her. It wraps around her like a hot blanket on a sweltering day, sticking to her skin and making her overstimulated. Too much was happening at once and it was almost too hard to bear.

“Lucienne!” She screams between cramps. Tears fall in fat drops onto the floor and wets the hand propping her up.

Lucienne appears quickly, followed closely by Mervin. Hands grab at her weak body and hoist her back onto the throne. Where she had fallen, blood pooled and more fell from between her legs.

Her whole body shakes with shivers and a whimper leaves her.

“My Lady,” Lucienne says with concern. The librarian couldn’t stop from staring at the growing pool of blood below her.

“What do we do?” Mervin asks. Even though he was a glorified janitor, constructor, and destructor for the Dreaming, he didn’t know how to fix this.

“Call for Phanes,” Their Lady said weakly. Sweat begins to appear like morning dew across her forehead. For once, she was grateful for the cool temperature.

“Mervin, take her to his Lord’s chambers,” Lucienne instructs. She doesn’t stay to watch as she sprints to the library.

She flips through leather-bound books, old and new until she finds the correct summoning spell she was looking for. The loyal librarian could only hope that a god would listen to a dream like her.

She hauls the large book into the room her Lady lays in. Labored breathing came from both women, although for two vastly different reasons.

“Forgive me, my lady, but I require your assistance,” Lucienne said next to the goddess’ bed.

The goddess gives her a hand limply and Lucienne starts chanting the words on the page while holding her cold fingers. The wind whirls around them and Mervin holds onto his pumpkin head to not have it knocked off.

Lucienne finishes the spell and looks down. Her Lady was glowing with power but she could not have looked any more weak. Nothing happens for a few bated breaths, only the sound of howling wind around them. Then nothing, not even the sound of crickets could be heard.

Enters Phanes, golden and warm like the sun. He materializes in a cloud of golden dust. He slams his staff down, and his golden snake slithers up from under his robes.

“Who dares summon m-”

“Lord Phanes,” Lucienne interrupts, something she knows she would be punished for, if not for the more important matter at hand.

A glare is thrown her way and softens at the familiar face. Phanes’ eyes travel across the intertwined fingers and land on his friend.

Weak eyes open and meet his. The godly figure is almost too much to stare directly at.

As if understanding what was happening to his friend, he drops the golden light he had been shining. The Dreaming returns to its cold blue, and it was just two deities and two dreams in understanding.

“A new deal,” Phanes announces and the goddess wants to weep again. Judging by how her husband acted the last time she had done this, she was going to be doomed. But the decision was easily made.

“Anything,” she whispers. Her eyelids are starting to feel heavy. She had delivered countless calves, kittens, and cubs, but never another deity. Was she supposed to feel this weak?

Silky scales slide across her feverish skin and she is face to face with Phanes’ serpent.

“Give your child to him, he will keep them safe until they may come to fruition. Until then, you must look after the serpent as if it is of your blood.”

The goddess could barely pay attention but understood in a way without words. She nods in agreement and the relief begins almost immediately.

Pain seeps out of her body, slow, like molasses and her body starts to glow again. Lucienne shields her eyes and peeks through her fingers. The goddess’ stomach glows and deflates.

A small glowing ball releases itself from the warmth of her womb, its dim light is warm and lights the room like a lantern on a foggy night. A weak hand cups it and it sits in the palm of its mother.

“Hello, darling son,” She whispers. The ball stays still, a small high-pitched noise emitting from itself.

The goddess smiles. “Darling daughter, then?” This time, the ball bounces gently a few times in response but otherwise doesn’t do anything.

The golden serpent is slowly making its way up the arm that holds the glowing orb. A tongue flicks out and smells it. Then with a nod from the goddess, the serpent unhinges its mouth and swallows the child whole. The light shines through the crevices of its eyes and ears as it makes its way down the serpent's throat. Eventually, the light dissipates and the serpent looks all the same, save for the bulge in its stomach.

A sense of longing borrows itself into her chest where her heart lies. Quite literally, the light disappears right in front of her. Physically, her pain had been removed, only the dried blood between her legs reminded her of what had happened just moments prior. And yet, a dull pain resides. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, but she could feel it behind her eyes and how it lodges in her throat.

Her gaze is unfocused as she pets the golden snake, her golden snake now, her child. For the rest of the night, she rests and Phanes leaves without a word. Lucienne stays by her side the whole time, eyes only moving when the serpent shifts. Mervin went back to work after a few hours, the castle’s foundation still cracking under their feet. He left with a sorrowful look, well, as sorrowful as a pumpkin head could be.

As the sun rises the next day, the goddess wakes up to not only the snake by her side but the librarian and her long awaited cat. Lucienne wakes up at the first shift that her Lady makes and stands.

“Let me draw you a bath,” She said before any debate.

“Lucienne,” Her Lady calls after her anyway in rejection. All of her handmaidens had left. They were only there to help the goddess under the instruction of the Dream Lord who created them. Without him here, no one would punish them for leaving and not attending his wife.

Still, the librarian doesn’t listen and disappears into the joined bathroom. Meanwhile, the goddess looks down at her cat and raises an eyebrow. It has certainly gotten fatter. And a new name tag was attached to his collar next to his bell.

“Buttons,” She said out loud, reading the new name. At that, the cat perks up and stares back at her disappointed face. “You got distracted on your mission didn’t you?”

She pets his rounder stomach and scratches his head. “Well, they certainly loved you…” The hidden passive-aggressive message was evident.

The cat, now Buttons, doesn’t bother with a response. Instead, it lays back down, flicking its tail aggressively at her comment.

She rolls her eyes. “Did you locate his Lord?”

Buttons rolls onto his back and stretches, belly exposing to her, and opens his mouth in a yawn. “Burgess Manor,” He says and turns his body away from her.

Finally, an answer. She throws the blanket off her body and goes to stand. She looks at her closet, thinking of what to wear to the waking world to retrieve her husband.

“My Lady!” Lucienne exclaims as she walks out of the bathroom. The goddess looks over at her and notices her staring at her dress. She looks down as well and remembers all of the blood that she spilled last night. It had caked itself into the fabric and was still crusted on the inside of her legs.

The librarian’s shock was still on her face when she realizes that her Lady fully intends to go to the waking world looking like that, having overheard the conversation between her and the cat. Lucienne insists she take a bath first and that she would find something for her to wear.

Her Lady doesn’t disagree and disappears into the steaming bathtub that was made for her. She doesn’t regret it for a second the moment she steps in. The warmth was comforting like a mother huddling to keep its cub warm. The water washes away the filths of yesterday and within the embrace of the water, she finally cries.

It’s not a gentle cry, it is hiccups and gasping for breath. The pain of yesterday that she felt behind her eyes and in her throat spills out. Her bathwater which used to smell of apples and cinnamon now turns into a maroon as her blood washes out. It starts to smell of iron and salt and it reminds her of war.

Her hand runs over her stomach and a whimper leaves her again at the lack of the bump she had grown so accustomed to. Logically, she knows that her child, no her daughter, was safe. But, one would have to admit that having their daughter in the stomach of a serpent was a bit unnerving.

A golden head peaks at her over the side of the ceramic bathtub and flicks out its tongue.

She sniffs the last of her tears away and pets its head with her index finger. “I’m sorry for leaving you already, dear daughter.”

The serpent’s stomach had grown twice as large since last night and since this is new territory for her, she must make haste so she may be back in the dream to witness the birth of her daughter.

Before she left, though, she walks into the castle gardens and gets to work. From her fingertips she grows a birch tree, its white branches and muted green leaves fit right into the dying realm around them. She sprouts flowers and brushes for scenery and a bed made of straw under a tunnel that she dug out.

The golden serpent follows her and slithers up her body, wrapping around her curves. When its head was next to hers, it let out a rattling-like noise in agreement with the small open enclosure the goddess had made for it. It slides back down her body and makes it home in the tunnel.

“Mommy will be back,” She whispers to it when it settles in and gives it a quick peck on the top of its head. It flicks its tongue at her and moves further into its nest.

The goddess stands back up and dusts off any dirt that could have gotten on her dress. Lucienne helps her pick out an appropriate attire for the waking world. Something she wouldn’t personally wear, but it certainly helps to blend in with the mortals. She quickly had to locate her husband. After all, she has no idea how long it takes for a snake to incubate a child.

It was easy to find the Burgess Manor when she arrives in the waking world. Everyone who was anyone spoke about the grand magus who managed to capture the devil in his basement. That the devil had granted him eternal life and some other rumors. All she had to do was flaunt a smile and go where the fingers pointed.

The rumors, of course, were mere rumors. The devil? No. Without knowing it, Rodrick Burgess managed to capture something even more powerful. How he had managed to keep him captured was a different question entirely and the goddess had a sneaking suspicion that he had some help.

It was nightfall when she arrives at the gates of the manor. Thousands of people clamor in the front garden, talking amongst themselves. Suddenly, the clothing she had worn was not fit for the environment she was walking into. Using a little bit of her powers, she changes the outlook of her clothing into something else. It was a bit more formal, growing longer and softer to the touch. However, if someone were to squint and stare hard enough, they would be able to see the original dress she had worn.

She weaves her way to the front and listens carefully to the words around her.

“I had arrived this morning, my feet are killing me.”

“Ha, me as well. But anything to get into the manor. I want to see what the Great Magus is hiding.”

“Not to mention the party of your lifetime!” They joke together.

Someone taps her on her shoulder. Another young man was waiting to be let in.

“You are a new face,” He comments and takes her hand. He presses his lips to the back of it. She takes her hand back and wipes it away on the back of her dress while keeping a smile.

“Yes, I wish to see the Great Magus himself.” She half-lies through her teeth. The young gentleman offers an arm to her which she reluctantly takes. Perhaps he will be the key to getting into the manor.

The doors of the manor open and people slowly trickle in. She peers over shoulders into the manor but couldn’t immediately find anything of note that would be dangerous. The warmth of the building fans over her as she enters through the large doors and a breath of relief escapes her.

“Isn’t it everything you could ever dream of?” The gentleman asks. He looks down at her with a smile.

She looks around, the manor was certainly lively. Foods of all kinds sprawl out on tables, fresh flowers almost too sweet to smell, and candlelight flickers and dances from the sudden wind. There were some party tricks as well, the flames seem to sparkle a bit more, bubbles were floating around in the air without popping, and the statues follows her with their eyes. But, they were all small party tricks, nothing to indicate this holier-than-thou man.

Through the buzz of it all, she could feel it. The string of fate that connects her to her husband. It was faint, but it was there and she knew she was in the right place. She just had to find out where.

A man emerges on the top of the stairs to the second floor and opens his arms in a flourish. She frowns at him because there he was, Rodrick Burgess, the man who took her husband. By the end of tonight, she promises herself, there will be no Rodrick Burgess.

“Ow, dang you’ve got a grip on you,” She breaks eye contact with Rodrick when her escort for the evening exclaims out. She releases the iron grip she had wrapped around his lower arm and apologizes.

“I am terribly sorry,” She apologizes. “Actually, I am parched, can you be a gentleman and fetch me some lemonade?” She bats her eyelashes and gives a smile. His face lights up in a blush and runs off to fetch her the lemonade she wants.

As soon as he was out of eyesight, the goddess began moving. She moves between bodies like wind on the beachfront - gracefully, wistfully, but with purpose. She uses her senses to locate where her husband could be. It was like an invisible dance.

When the sense weakens she backtracks, when it strengthens she moves forward. She was so lost in her quest that she almost did not register when she ran into a wool-covered chest. Surprise overtook her face as she looks up, ready to apologize and continue on her way. But she stops when she realizes that the man she bumps into is the very host of the party.

“Rodrick Burgess,” She says almost breathlessly. Oh, how she wants to commit a grievous crime to this mortal.

The old man chuckles above her and grabs onto her shoulders. His fingers are cold when they come into contact with her bare skin and she wants to cringe away from his touch, but he holds on strong.

“You seem like a curious creature, my little dove,” He comments and starts to walk. Without much room to budge, she is reluctant to follow him.

“Yes,” She drawls out much like how Morpheus tends to do. She suddenly acts with interest when she realizes that the bond strength between her and her husband increases. She holds on tighter and presses her body against his arm.

“I heard that the great Magus kept the devil in the basement of his manor. Can we see it?” She fakes a supple voice and looks up at him with an innocent smile.

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think a small thing such as yourself would want to see the devil.”

“No!” She belts out, a bit too quickly. But she recovers smoothly. “What I mean to say is, I am far too excited to see him. Please don’t deny me this one pleasure Great Magus.”

“How loathsome,” She thinks to herself.

“Very well, I can’t deny you anything if you keep looking at me like that.” He confirms.

Rodrick Burgess leads her away from the party, down a long and quiet hallway. It is decorated with antique and rare collectibles. The older man talks about each one, dragging on his time that leads to her husband, but she nods along anyway.

She had waited decades to be in the arms of her husband again, a few more minutes surely wouldn’t hurt. Soon, she is led to a dark and demanding set of double doors. Locks and bolts seal it from top to bottom. With a nod of Rodrick’s head, the guards stationed outside open the door slowly and a cold air seeps out and blows her hair back. The basement smells musty of old water and stale air. A cough emits from further down the stairs and she frowns.

“Scared yet, child?” Rodrick says to her mockingly.

She only shakes her head no as she continues down the steps.

The smell grows stronger as she gets closer and she can also make out a small portion of dirt and sand amidst it all. Despite it, the air was crisp and cold, suitable for a stone basement.

A light emits from the end of the long staircase downwards and she can’t stop her jaw unhinging as she finally sets her eyes on her husband. Tears well up in her eyes as they dart across the room.

Arches supported the basement throughout the floor and a moat still separates between her and her husband. A singular fluorescent light is cast on him in a glass prison as if he were some circus animal on display. Below the glass prison were some sort of gold runic markings and even from far away, she could feel the real magic emitting from them.

Rodrick releases her hold on him and turns to the two guards on duty that night. “You two may go,” He instructs, and the two leave without debate.

At the sound of his voice, Dream opens his eyes but remains in his laid position. His gaze pierces into his corrupt heart, if he even had one left, but quickly notices his wife by his side. With this, he sits up and gently places a hand on the glass barrier.

“Would you look at that!” Rodrick boasts. “He moves, he doesn’t do that much. Perhaps he has feelings for a pretty thing like you.”

The goddess doesn’t hear him and walks up to the glass cage in a trance. How does she free him? Tears fall restlessly down her face and her stature dejects. She snaps out of her trances on the small bridge above the stagnant water when a rough hand squeezes her upper arms.

“Stop, you must not get any closer. He is trying to seduce you into releasing him!” Rodrick hashes out between gritted teeth.

She opens her mouth to tell him something, anything, to release her husband but stops when she hears Dream’s voice again.

“Wife,” He calls simply and her body fills with all of the love and adoration she had been missing for decades.

Rodrick’s grip tightens at his voice, the first time he remembers hearing it. With a shocked face, he looks down at the woman in his grip. “Wife?!” He screams at her furiously.

She takes a deep breath and steels herself, ripping herself away from his bruising grip, and stands between him and her husband. The tears had dried and only anger left in its wake.

“The one before you is Daleena, Goddess of Husbandry, Mother of Agriculture and Protector of Animals, Saint of Farmers, Queen of the Dreaming, wife of Dream of the Endless. You face me now, mortal.”

Wind swirls, somehow, in the basement but it is the least of Rodrick’s worries. He plants himself firmly as the wind picks up and sand envelops the two of them in a vortex of anger.

“I have captured something more than a god! I have an Endless!” He points a finger at her, eyes scrutinizing. “What makes you think you can defeat me? The Great Magus Rodrick Burgess?”

Walking a few steps forward, her shepherd’s crook materializes in her hand, the bell jingling violently in the wind. Her extremities start to glow their familiar light as she musters power. She points the staff at Rodrick as billets of wheat start growing around his feet and crawl up his legs, the nice wool of his pants long forgotten against the harsh stalks of the plants. The plants bloom as it sucks the life away from the very thing they grew on.

Rodrick starts chanting in Greek.

“Prostasía,” He chokes out. “Prostasía.” He chants again and he breathes easier. “Prostasía.” He chants one more time and he’s back to standing at his full height. The plants that were wrapped around him wither away and fell into dust, sucked into the sand vortex around them.

The goddess frowns, she did not realize how much power she had lost until now when a simple protection chant could stave off her attacks. Rodrick lunges at her, hands open and clawed, ready to grab onto any piece of her clothing. In turn, she slams her crook into the ground and a fissure opens up, but not before he can shove her further and her body slams into the wall of the glass prison. The fissure separates the two opponents away from each other and Rodrick steps back before he falls into the Earth.

She braces herself on the glass wall at the impact and loses her breath for a moment. She could feel the warmth of her husband’s hand and she turns away from Rodrick to look at him. His hand was aligned with her own, so close, only inches apart.

“The runes, my love,” Morpheus tells her. She looks down at looks at the graphics that surround them, the sand had erased some of it through the abrasive nature of itself. The magic within the runes would still be strong if not for the defiant smudge she creates with her foot, just in time for the fissure to finish opening. With a final look at her husband, she walks closer to the fissure, pulling the sand vortex smaller so it was just her and Rodrick again.

From the fissure glows a golden light, soft and merciful but quickly overshadowed by the growing dust. The light expands as the golden serpent which holds her daughter emerges. It had grown in size since the last time she had seen it. Its length and mass have nearly tripled in size and the baby bulge it used to flaunt was now merely a small bump.

Rodrick’s stare grows higher and higher as the snake continues to emerge, it stares at the man, tongue flicking angrily at him for daring to harm the goddess. The snake lunges, all fangs and dripping venom, its large scales clattering against each other like gold coins. Rodrick moves to the side and the serpent misses. It hisses in retaliation and comes around again, this time wrapping its body around the legs of the Great Magus.

Panic sets in as the serpent starts to constrict around the man and he can feel his pulse pounding against his head and the blood circulation gets cut off. The bones in his knees pop as they press together.

“Father!” A young boy’s voice screams across the vortex and the goddess sees a glint of silver cross into the vortex arena.

The serpent is halfway up Rodrick’s body when the goddess notices the sharp dagger that Rodrick now possesses. He rises it high in the air and with a large gasp plunges it into the flesh of the serpent. The golden scales provide little to no protection against the artifact.

“No!” She screams and takes a step forward, only to be stopped by the protective tail of the serpent.

The metal hisses as it melts against the golden scales, melting the scales together until they become smooth around the wound. Rodrick slides again and again until the weapon becomes too slippery with blood and he loses grip. The snake is now a mosaic of gold and red as it tightens one last time.

“Curse… you…” Rodrick strains out, his face turning purple as the last bit of air leaves him. The serpent weakens and falls in a slump like an inanimate rope and the sand around them falls like rain.

The goddess leaps over the fissure and after making sure the man is dead runs to the head of the golden serpent. Its eyes were dim, mouth agape as its muscles weakens and she can no longer feel it breathing on her skin when she places a hand above its nostrils.

“No, no no,” She mumbles to herself. She grabs her dress up and away from her feet as she makes her way down the length of the serpent. When she reaches where she last saw the small baby bump, she runs her hand along its underside, soon becoming slick with cooling blood.

She finds a particular cut that was deeper than normal and when she sticks her hand in there, they grab around a small appendage. A cry of relief leaves her lips as she digs deeper. She pulls her baby from the dying body and cradles it to her body. Golden scale imprints are decorated across her arms and legs and a few more along the spine of her back.

Her breath hiccups as silence fills the air. She pats her daughter’s back and wipes her mouth clean and panic seeps into her bones when still she remains quiet.

Morpheus appears behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turns to him, tears streaking down her neck.

“Crying, why-why isn’t she crying?!” She wails and clutches her child harder against her chest.

Morpheus hugs her from behind and holds the two of them to his chest.

“Y/N,” He calls her name, her real name. Not her titles, or what the mortals call her, but the name given to her since her creation.

She weeps into his form, salty tears mixing with blood and the amniotic fluid that covers her child. Her tears fall into her daughter’s mouth and feed into the child her grief, regret, and guilt as well as the hope she still had in her.

A soothing hand pets her and the silence disappears. Loud wailing comes from below and her eyes shoot open. Her daughter was finally crying, her hands in fists as they move around in the air.

“Praises,” She sobs again, this time tears of joy. Her child's eyes peel open and smiles as she grabs at her mother’s hair.

Morpheus smiles, a rare one, all teeth showing as he touches his daughter’s head gently. The three, now a family, return home to the Dreaming. There will be more to do, especially for Morpheus but for now, a small victory lies within the hope that is their daughter.

Extra:

“Well I’ll be baffled, bamboozled, and befuddled,” Phanes says, hands on his hip and his staff leaning against one of the walls of the basement.

He stares at his serpent covered in dried blood and dearly departed, lying alone on the cold basement floor.

“Look at how they massacred my boy!” He screams to no one in particular, arms out in disbelief.

He lets out a huff and crosses his arms. “I’ll let you borrow my snake, blah, blah, blah, take care of it like it’s your own, meh, meh, meh,” He mocks.

Phanes runs a hand across the top of the snake’s head and watches as the dried blood rehydrates and moves thickly back into the cuts. The gnashes done by the weapon stitch itself back close and the gold scales return to their original form.

The snake shrinks smaller and smaller until it is back to its original size. At which, it perks up and flicks a tongue out in thanks to its god.

“All right, let’s go,” Phanes says with a sigh as if this was a mundane chore. He extends out a hand for the serpent to slither up to.

“I am never making a deal with those two ever again, that was crazy.” He says to his snake.

The snake flicks its tongue again and rattles the scales on its back.

“Ohh, that’s nice that she made you an enclosure.” He responds, then remains silent as the snake says something else. “What do you mean she forgot to put mice in the enclosure for you to eat?!”

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus x reader smut #the sandman #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless #dream #dream x reader #dream x reader smut #angst with a happy ending #light angst #the sandman fanfic #morpheus x wife!reader #morpheus x wife reader #dream of the endless smut #dream of the endless x reader

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heyidkyay · 7 days

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And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Two

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors Note: hi… I’m back? Idk if anyone noticed I dipped lmao, but! Back with another update of this fic and it’s a deep one, left off on uneven ground last time so here’s me clearing that up:) sort of.

Warnings: emotions. <maybe not needed but like, lots of emoting so. Quite a few references to Matty’s past, drug-use/overdosing, previous acts of slight violent and the usual stuff w him and this fic I guess (all mentions are brief)

ALSO back and forth changes of pov between Mouse and Matty so keep an eye out x

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

Thing was, waking up had never come very easily to Matty. Even as a longtime insomniac.

Sleep came and went in staggered stages. He struggled with falling into it and then struggled with staying there in that languid state. It was almost as though his body was held prisoner by his mind and the thoughts which seemed to forever war there.

The drugs had fixed that, mostly. Stopped his heart. His lungs. And then finally, his brain. Leaving him in this tranquil haze, floating somewhere in between everything and nothing, muting those militant thoughts, blanketing his rampage of never-ending emotions.

It was the numbness that he had craved. The nothing.

By the time he’d been shipped off to his first stint in rehab, he was utterly clueless as to just how terrifying it could all seem without it. What with the crutch no longer there. Reckoned he still had scabs that wouldn’t properly heal from all the time he’d spent scratching in that tiny box room they’d given him. Never really sleeping and only ever blinking awake.

It sort of felt like that now. Opening his eyes to find that the world had tilted sideways once again, the wall slanted and the television opposite morphed longways. He sniffed, feeling the heaviness that immediately encompassed his head as he fought to force himself up onto his elbows.

It was quick, the sudden pressure that ripped through the joints, and he hissed as he peered down to find that the skin had been shred to bits, now blotted with flakes of rusted blood that had to have come from the night before.

“Here.”

Matty blinked blearily, swallowing around a lump in his throat before casting his eyes up slowly to find a glass being shoved towards him. He took it, skin prickling at the sudden chill he was met with and face scrunching up in distaste.

He didn’t move to take a sip though, even with how dry his mouth then seemed, instead rubbed at his tired eyes before he dropped his hand completely to find Ross already settled on the adjoining armchair. Matty realised a beat too late that he must’ve passed out on the man’s settee, just as a forlorn feeling settled somewhere in his stomach, the evident reminder of the promise he’d been given the morning before hitting him.

‘You can even head back here after if you want.’

He’d wanted. He was forever wanting when it came to her. But he could hardly even recall making it through Ross’s front door, let alone contacting her at any point last night. Brow furrowing over how much he would have had to have drunk.

“Time’s it?” Matty forced himself to ask, voice more guttural than he was used to, grogginess seeping into the edges of it as he settled himself a little better on the settee. He took a small sip of the water, testing the weight it would leave in his lead filled stomach before taking a couple more larger gulps. He settled it down on the console beside him after and then chanced another glance over at Ross, who looked as much a state as Matty felt. “Hm?” He tacked on when he was met with a bland look.

“Just gone one.”

Matty’s brows shot up at that, before he slumped further into the settee cushions. His head now ached something awful and he felt flushed to fuck, sweat causing the back of his tee to stick to the curve of his spine. “Shit.” He muttered unhappily, the familiarity of a migraine already setting in.

The word was met by a drawl chuckle. And look- Matty had known Ross for far too fucking long not to automatically hone into the odd quirks or reactions the bloke tended to favour, which was why he was already frowning when he squinted back over at him.

Ross had since turned his head against the back of the armchair, enough so that Matty could now see the darker sheen that sat beneath his lidded eyes whilst Ross’s gaze flickered over him. He didn’t say a word, merely chucked Matty’s own phone his way.

Feeling his forehead pinch, Matty forced himself to grit his teeth against the flare of pain that shot through his ankle when the thing purposefully missed his open hand and hit the bone of his ankle. “Fuck’s wrong with you?” He snarled at the oversized twat, picking the poxy thing up before rubbing at the offended joint.

Matty wasn’t offered up much of an answer though, what with Ross silently shaking his head at him. So he rolled his eyes in addition, lifting a finger up towards his face to rub at an eyelid before he finally managed to flip his phone the right way around and get a good look at it.

[HOMESCREEN]13:02

News 21 mins ago Back on a bender, Healy?The 1975 frontman was spotted out last night in an argument which quickly escalated and ruined a certain band member's birthday celebrations…

Twitter 28 mins ago Topic - music@/The1759: Matty captured in a deal gone wrong down in London?? Nahhhhh we all saw the relapse coming but this is just insaneeee...

BBC News - UK & World Stories 43 mins ago Matty Healy takes family bonding to whole new levels Hit singer spotted with girlfriend's son in an altercation whilst out in London earlier this month!

Messages 1hr ago Hann Ring me when you see this

The Independent 12:09 Singer, to the international band known as The 1975, was seen multiple times over the coming weeks in a variety of altercations that hinder his so-called sobriety, one of which was pictured and also witnessed by the young son of the frontman’s most recent fling. ‘Mouse’ as dubbed by her radio show, MouseOnAMic, has yet to comment on the behaviour concerning both her boyfriend and child, we continue…

News 11:44 This is how it starts! Matty Healy’s road back to rehab? Police were called in to break up a celebratory party held on the stretch of Soho in the early hours of this morning. Many faces were pictured amongst the masses, but most noticeably was singer Matthew Healy of The 1975, who was seen outside of a nearby club arguing with another man holding a bag..

Had you ever felt the floor just slip out from under you?

Or maybe even the way that the Earth seemed to suddenly stop spinning, enough so that you could feel every little thing that was happening inside of your body?

The swell of oxygen being forced out of your lungs.

The rush of blood attempting to find the place of impact, susceptible to the sudden pain that’s been felt.

Or even, the pulsing beat of every desperate squeeze your heart made in the very tips of your fingers?

There was a sudden sickness that clawed at the cage that bound Matty's chest together, thickening the walls of his throat and heavy enough that he had to inhale so deeply that the air demanded the bile to retreat back, back, back... Until his gut was the only thing churning and all he’d been left with as the most bitter aftertaste.

It was everywhere. Plastered all over Twitter, mentioned in every news outlet around for miles. Just there. Taking up the screen of his phone- and every other fuckers- without so much as a warning. Pictures, stories, accusations…

Evidence, a part of his twisted mind whispered.

But it was. A trail of wrongdoings which had led right back to that very day he’d spent with Teddy.

Teddy-

God, how the fuck could he have been this mindless? This fucking blind. How had he messed up so badly?

It didn’t feel immediate, the way he moved to grapple his phone, scrolling in search of her name, for her contact, but it was. It was just instinctive. Thoughtless, how suddenly overwhelming the need to hear her voice was. To make sure that she was alright. Not wondering over whether she’d still be there waiting for him- no matter how heavy that thought now weighed on his dreaded mind. He simply needed her to be alright. And for Teddy to be none the wiser. For him to be okay. Just okay.

He remembered bits and pieces. It was slowly coming back now. An old face. Being offered something or other. He’d refused. He remembered he told the guy no. He’d been tempted, fuck had he been so tempted. But he knew better. Deep down. And he remembered saying no. Remembered pieing the guy off, having a light laugh, backing away. But then there had been a throw of hands, a split lip, the ringing crack of a jaw that had made his mind spin with flashbacks of Luke. Of the roof. Of his face hitting the cold empty pavement.

Matty could vaguely recall shouts and calls. George’s wide eyes. Ross’s hands gripping his arms. Hann already on the phone.

Tempted.

He’d been tempted.

It was that thought which played on an endless loop in his head whilst the ring of his phone echoed out into an otherwise silent room.

A flash of faces rattled across the forefront of his mind; expressions, voices, the need to please, a need to entertain.

She didn’t answer. The line went dead.

So he tried again.

Then a third time.

“Fuck.” Matty muttered breathlessly to himself, the panic in his voice breaking up the quiet that stretched between one ring and then the next.

She didn’t answer.

–

Thing was, I’d always known it had been coming. As pessimistic as I was.

But hope was a fickle fucking thing. It made me cut the tip of my tongue on the front of my teeth to keep from ruining perfect moments with thoughtless words. It found its way into the little things I had done and still did. It allowed me just a second to smile, for no other reason than simply being. Than belonging.

Because that was what hope did.

It was also the very thing which had forced me to let my guard down, for those walls of mine to slip. It had granted him entrance into the life I’d so steadily built for myself on rocky foundations and borrowed time.

It had broken me so easily and effortlessly. Wrapped me up in nothing but an empty pang of regret that rang out for miles and miles.

I stared blankly up at the ceiling laid out above me, counting down the minutes until Teddy finally woke once more. Only this time it would be from the sun rising up over the overpass, rather than his mum slipping in to curl up beside him in the early hours of the morning when it had all grown too much. Her need to know that he was okay, her helpless guilt and the pain which had felt all-consuming.

I wondered over the times Matty had been in here with him, putting Teddy to sleep, laughing together, telling him drawn out stories and singing old melodies. I wondered what he’d been thinking in those dotted moments. If he’d been thinking anything at all.

I questioned how stupid I had to have been, how blind to not have seen it. The lies, because he'd done it so effortlessly. The web he had spun, just in an attempt to deceive me. All laid out before my fucking eyes. And he hadn’t even had the decency to tell me to my face. No, instead I’d had to watch it all unfold alongside the rest of the world.

My tongue licked over my lower lip which had since been bitten raw, having dragged it between my teeth in both panic and pity. Because even though I was angry, a bigger part of me still cared. Still continued to worry. Because oh, how I worried. And wasn’t that the most depressing part?

Here I was, concerned about him, whilst he was out doing whatever, fucking whoever, taking whatever. I’d seen the fucking pictures. I’d seen them all. Scrolled and scrolled until I’d come up to the last fuck-off headline. Until his face had morphed into somebody else, and then someone else’s after that.

The reasonable half of me, the half I was attempting to stamp down and drown out, also knew that what you saw online wasn’t always what it appeared. But still, it looked too much like my biggest fucking fear being brought to life to care enough. I simply wished to have him here, so that he could either explain himself to me or so that I could use him as an object to simply scream at. To rally against.

Because I couldn’t believe he’d gone and done the very thing I'd been so terrified of. That he had done it, and that he then had lied to me. That he had chosen to drag my fucking son into it. Into his fucking mess of a life! After-

After everything I’d given to him.

The thought made me question how much I was worth. How easily I could be tossed aside and shit all over.

A hand tightened around my wrist then and my tired eyes startled over to where a matching set now peered right back at me. Though these eyes were accompanied by a sleep filled smile and not haunted like mine.

I reached up to run a hand through Teddy’s soft curls, thumb brushing over his hairline before it trailed its way down the slope of his tiny nose. “Morning, lovely.”

My chest tightened at the hold Teddy found on my arm then, tucking himself up under it so that he could bury his face into the crook of my neck, those little hands of his coming up to clutch at the fabric of my shirt. I chuckled softly, unable to do much else with the surprise that coursed through me, and hugged him back.

“You okay?” I murmured into his hair, pecking the crown of his head and willing the tightness in my throat to go away. I wouldn't cry, not now.

“Sleepy.” Teddy answered me and I felt him smile against my skin when I chuckled quietly, dragging him even closer to me.

“You know what? Me too.”

His little hand started to gently pat my back then and it broke my heart that little bit more, “Stay here, ‘kay? Keep sleepin’.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, enough so that I was too scared to even speak, so instead I merely nodded, hoping that he’d feel it and somehow know.

“‘Kay.” He repeated after a moment in a hushed whisper, fingers clutching at the back of my shirt, “Love you.”

I bit down on my tongue hard enough to warrant some bleeding, the taste of bitter metal slowly filling my mouth whilst I willed myself to be strong. To not cry, not in front of him. Never in front of him.

“Love you too, baby.”

–

He’d wanted to go charging over there.

Mid panic-attack, itching for a drink, or a fucking fix. Fucking anything to keep his mind from imploding the way it currently was.

He wanted.

He so desperately wanted.

He’d shucked on his boots without much thought, paying heedless wonder to Ross’s words, his desperate attempts to get him to listen. ‘Cause it was all for nought.

His chest burned with a fearsome ache that could light pyres. It was all that he could focus on to get him through the front door of Ross’s flat and out into the hallway. There was only one other door on his floor, on the far end. Though it was empty, Ross having bought it out, loaded enough now to not have to fret about futile things like neighbours.

“Matt! For fucks sake, Matty!” Matty heard Ross stress before fingers were catching around his upper arm, the grip too tight, too overwhelming, stopping him in his stride.

Not even thinking Matty wrenched himself away, hard enough that it put a good distance between him and the bassist, pinking the skin of his bicep. His mind was working overtime, tick tick ticking. He was overstimulated and buzzing with an unfound energy that wasn’t unlike a bout of withdrawal shakes.

“The fuck happened last night?”

The sound of his own voice surprised him, forced his shoulders up and his gaze to widen, to hone in on the only other occupant that took up the narrow hall.

“What the fuck happened, Ross!” Matty demanded again, stomper now, inching slowly back over towards Ross and the still swinging door he’d just torn open.

Ross was staring back at him, reminiscent of days Matty had spent denying his ever increasing drug use, or the multiple overdose scares they'd been forced through. Matty could feel his pulse jumping beneath his skin now, hands shaking to the rhythm of it, but he could not for the life of him take a breath, so focused on Ross and his unmoving form until-

“What didn’t happen, Matty?”

The sting came then. Not just the metaphor for the way Ross’s words had gone and slapped him across the face, no, the sting that threatened to close his throat and wet his eyes. What didn’t happen.

“I need to know, Ross. ‘Cause my head-” Matty raised a trembling hand, dragging the limb down over his face before he was just stood there shaking his head, “It’s fucked. My head's fucked and I, I can’t. I can't remember even getting here. Can’t remember leaving that fucking club or fucking curling up on your sofa! I don’t know what could have happened for me to have fucked up this much.”

A long pause dragged between them then, Ross watching him like an injured stray he wasn’t sure whether or not to lure closer and take home. Whilst the hallway continued on in its stoney silence, not a peep being heard from anyone or anything, only allowing Matty’s hard and fast breaths to break it up and echo out along the walls. Taunting him.

“You didn’t take anything.”

It was both the worst and best thing Ross could have said. Matty’s shoulders slumped with the weight of it and he dipped his head down between the bones of his collar in lieu of an answer. He hadn’t taken anything. But, maybe if he had then there would be a fucking excuse, a way to annul all of his shitty actions. The choices which had inevitably led him here.

“You didn’t take anything,” Ross repeated after antoher stretch of time, eyes flickering back and forth over Matty’s sad face, “but you did fuck off for a while after. Found you slurring and pissed beyond belief down some back alley of another club a mile off. You,” He paused there- stuttered with uncertainty in truth, but Matty fixed him with a terrified look, whole body ceasing with it. “You were with some girl, Matt. She was as gone as you but she said she’d only wanted to help.”

A girl.

Right.

Right, yeah, no that made sense. He’d gotten drunk, she’d just stepped in to help. He, he wouldn’t have-

“And that’s it? You’re sure?”

Ross continued to stare back at him for a second or two, then his body slumped with a sigh, “I don’t know, Matty.”

“You don’t know?” Was his incredulous retort, “What the fuck am I meant to do with that, Ross? Did anything fucking happen or not?” Matty demanded, thoughtlessly taking another step closer. Ross, true to his nature, didn’t move away, merely stood his ground.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” Ross reiterated with a sharp edge, as close as he’d ever get to shouting Matty knew. “You’re the only one who was, Matty. You go figure it out.”

Matty scoffed angrily, fisting his trembling hands at his side before they could lash out. “Yeah, and how’d you figure I do that then, hey?”

Ross took a breath, hand coming up to rub at his tired face. He shrugged and Matty could see just how exhausted he seemed with everything, with him. “All I know is you’d worked yourself up into a right state before you did your vanishing act, mate. Said something about Teddy, then about messing things up. I tried to talk some sense into you, I mean, we all did. But man, you were hellbent on fucking it all up completely.”

Ross’s throat bobbed and he looked off to the side, out of a nearby window that showcased the looming clouds above, before his gaze trailed back over to Matty’s defeated form.

“One second you were there, and the next you were gone.”

Matty couldn’t seem to find a reply to that.

Could only stand there. Questioning what the fuck he’d gone and done.

…

Hours passed, and then days.

Matty spent each minute trying to right his wrongs, to figure it all out. He’d called, he’d texted constantly. Basically barraged her with the little he had left to give. But heard nothing in return.

Hann had turned up in search of him later that afternoon he’d woken up round Ross’s and his entire life had been shot to shit. The man had practically boxed him back inside the flat and out of the hallway, forcing him to hole up there until the storm he’d created outside died down.

Not that it was much use. The storm only grew, more stories coming out, people stepping forward with fake tales and photoshopped pictures. Ross promised to talk to Mouse for him, but the most he’d been able to manage was an argument with Adi. Which hadn’t worked out all that well for Matty either as it turned out, seeing as how that had only proved to sour Ross’s already shitty mood, eventually putting the two of them on the outs.

Hann had tried too, attempting to contact Squeaks directly instead of through her mate. But had also come up with nothing. He’d been muttering away on the phone to Jamie since though, and Matty knew out of the five of them, it was probably him that Mouse would say something to. So Matty was avoiding him like the sodding plague, which was all too easy to do now that his phone was shattered to bits from a spiteful reaction to yet another unanswered call.

He knew Jamie would tell it to him straight, see. That Mouse could just as easily end things through him properly rather than face to face, that’s if things hadn’t already ended between them.

So day three and Matty was basically bouncing off the walls, having already raided what little alcohol Ross kept in his flat the previous day and worked his way through the last of the smokes Adam had dropped round a couple hours before.

He was ticking with the need to move. To fucking escape the flat he’d been confined to.

He’d also had yet to hear from G either.

Which, Matty couldn’t lie was surprising. So when he wasn’t trying to talk his way out of the flat or make plans to set things straight between him and Squeaks, he was prying Ross and Hann for answers.

Not that it was worth the effort. Neither said a thing. Or well, they’d said the same thing, repeatedly. ‘He’s just busy.’

Busy his pasty fucking arse. If George was anything, it was a decent fucking mate. Even when Matty had messed up time and time again, he’d been there. Fucking found him that last time he’d been face down and coughing on his own bile, hadn’t he? G always came through.

Just not now, it seemed.

Matty’s head snapped up at the sound of the front door opening and immediately jumped up off the settee to round the corner to see just who it was. Then was all too quick to reel back, shaking his head in utter dismay as he walked his way back across the living room and out onto the balcony.

He heard a sigh sound behind him just as he wrenched open the door. “Matty...”

“I’m not doing this today.”

Matty threw himself down onto one of the deck chairs that had probably come with the place and cursed at the feel of dampness that instantly seeped its way into the burrowed joggers he wore. He tutted, sitting forward in the seat and reaching down to see that the chair hadn't managed to keep itself shielded from last night's rain. “Fuck sake.” He muttered under his breath but didn’t make a move to stand, figured he’d probably sat in worse.

He didn’t look back over either when the sliding door opened again and Jamie stepped on out to join him, though he did hollow his cheeks in irritation when said man tossed a pack of cigarettes into his lap and situated himself against the glass railing. “Gonna talk now?”

Matty merely opened the pack up, chucking the cellophane somewhere to the left of him and shaking two out. He stuck one between his lips and put the other back in upside down. Stretching out a hand, he used the other to tuck the pack into the band of his joggers, and then forced a snide smile when Jamie ultimately handed him his lighter.

Two clicks and it was lit, he didn’t spare the man the favour of handing it back to him though, simply tossed it onto the end of the deck chair.

Jamie sighed once more, but Matty figured the older man was more than used to his ever changing emotions by now. Still, he knew he was acting the prick. It was just easier to be a prick and push Jamie away, than let the man fucking hurt him first. Not that he even would, it was just- Mouse, weren't it? Mouse and Jamie were mates, they spoke. They’d been fucking mates before even Matty had thought to even snag her number, before he’d attempted to even try to rid himself of the picture of her his mind had held onto. Jamie would tell it to him straight.

“She’s fuming.”

See?

Matty’s tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, catching on the front of his teeth and relieving the words with a sharp, albeit subtle sting. He swallowed thickly, eyes flickering quickly over to Jamie and then away again. “Like, bad?”

Jamie scoffed out a humourless chuckle and so in turn, Matty scowled, flicking the remnants of his fag ash out before turning to place the glare on the man.

“Yeah, as in on a scale from one to fucking ten, how pissed is she?”

With a heavy inhale- as though the question had been oh so demanding- Jamie looked up at the cloudy sky before eventually trailing his eyes back down again. “I don’t know.” Matty shook his head irritably, but Jamie just continued on, “But what I do know is that she’s messed up over it. Almost as bad as you, from the looks of it.”

And didn’t that just have Matty’s mind going down in a tailspin. He balled a hand up against his right thigh, letting his nails bite into the skin of his palm whilst his unblinking eyes casted themselves out onto the foggy sky rise of London.

A short scuffle sounded and then Jamie was sitting in the chair beside him, though he’d seemingly had the foresight to wipe it dry first. “Look, mate, it’s bad. But if you’ve done nothing wrong, then it’s something you can fix.”

“Nothing wrong?” Matty scoffed, the tick of his jaw keeping him from taking another drag of his cigarette. “Everything I do is wrong, man.” He let his head drop into his hand at that, the tremble of it more prominent now than it had ever been, “I can’t fix it, J. How can I? The fuck would I even start?”

The chill of the city air crawled up over the thin tee that covered Matty's shoulders, wrapping him up in it, but he could hardly feel a thing past the blur of thoughts that crowded the inside of his mind. Still, he shivered, jumping ever so slightly when Jamie’s hand came to settle on the top of his neck.

“Matty, listen to me.”

And that didn't help.

“All I’ve been doing is fucking listening! Listened to Hann, listened to pissin' Ross. Listened when they said not to go charging over there, to give her time, to give her fucking space! But they were wrong. If-” Matty hissed, rubbing at the sting that had settled behind his eyes, rubbing them raw, “If only I could explain! If I could just talk to her. I only want to make sure that she’s alright. To see her for myself.”

The breath of Jamie’s next sigh got swept up in the wind but Matty felt it all the same, but then the man’s hand tightened its hold on his shoulder and he felt Jamie dip his head in a gentle nod.

“I’ll work something out, yeah?”

And with those five words Matty’s head was snapping up, watery eyes honed in on his managers ageing face as though it held all the fucking hope in the world. And at that moment it fucking felt as though it did. Or it could have done.

“Yeah? Don’t fucking say it and then fall through on me, J. I can’t deal with that shit right now.” Matty told the man almost desperately, chest rising and falling aimlessly as he stared back at him.

Jamie simply chuckled, bracing himself with a smile. “When have I ever fallen through on you lot?”

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