#keegan is one of those rare fae with three names | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghouljams · 7 months

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I, for one, vote that the changeling’s mom be Keegan’s gf.

I love Keegan so much, he's so funny. I love the idea that he isn't involved in my AUs per-se, but he pops up to have his little cameo whenever I feel like I need his chaos. Anyway in my mind he gave mom!reader the changeling child, and then looped around to start dating her a year or so later. She wanted a kid, and he was like "damn ok milf". So it's technically his kid, but she doesn't need to know that. He's just a regular human man...

Keegan crouches to hold Riley's collar as your little one reaches out to grab the German shepherd's thick fur. He's so good with the kid. You were a little worried when you first started dating that the baby would be a deal breaker but here you were almost two years later. Your boyfriend loves your kid like they're his own. It's funny, sometimes you look at their inquisitive eyes and think they look just like him. You know that isn't right though, you made a deal for your child. You still hold out hope that the creature you dealt with never comes to collect on that.

"Gotta be gentle Monster," Keegan tells the kid quietly, prying their little fingers off the dog. He splays their hand, and pats it against Riley's head to demonstrate. It goes as well as he could've hoped, the little one pats a few times before Riley shakes his head and tugs at Keegan's hold. The man sighs and lets the dog run off away from the changeling.

Keegan doesn't blame the poor creature, the kid's too young to really know how to be good with animals. Riley knows they're his at least, keeps their scent, that's for the best. He sits heavily, watching the kid watch him. He sniffs, kid must've gotten out again, they stink of magic.

"Tell me about your new friends kiddo." He brushes away some of the fuzz around them, the strands stuck to their jumper. Strange magic indeed.

"Don't wanna," They wander away to find something else to play with. Keegan sighs and flops back to lay on the floor. You nudge him with your foot, a laundry basket on your hip. He grabs your ankle with a smile.

"Kid doesn't like me much," He says. He always says that.

"They adore you," You remind him. He hums, stroking your ankle with his thumb before pushing himself back up to sitting. You offer him a hand to help him stand up. Despite the difference in height and muscle mass, you think he appreciates the offer, or at least finds it funny. He nearly hauls you down to his level pulling himself up. He grunts, twists at the middle to stretch his back, and grabs the laundry basket from you.

"Where'd they wander off to this time? Anywhere I should be concerned about?" You stoop to pick up a spare toy and drop it in the toy bin as Keegan finishes your walk to the washer. It's questions like that, that make you love him. He cares just as much about your kid as he does about you, the same as any parent would.

"That um," you cringe a little and force yourself to call her what she calls herself, "Witch, a few blocks down found them." Keegan hums again, he's never commented on the city's peculiar fascination with the magical, but you always get the feeling he doesn't buy into it. You aren't sure you entirely do either, at least not the human aspect.

Although you suppose if monsters can grant children, there's no reason a witch couldn't be, well, a real witch.

"Honestly I'm just glad they weren't snatched by anyone," You sigh.

"Suppose they are pretty cute," Keegan rumbles, "but I think anyone snatchin' 'em would give 'em back just as quick." His joke takes away some of your anxiety. You love your child you really do, but they have their quirks. If they aren't silently watchful they're talking your ear off about whatever strange subject they've taken an interest in. Today tarantulas, tomorrow taxidermy. They've really been liking "t" sounds recently.

You wander over to lean against Keegan as he pours detergent into the drawer and turns on the washer. He wraps an arm around you, and you tip your head back so he can kiss you. It's calming. He's calming. He's such a rock through everything, you often wonder if anything phases him. He takes such good care of you, his fingers holding your chin to follow the angle of your kiss, his lips gently insistent as he draws you closer. He's just slipped his tongue past your lips to draw your own into his mouth when your little one tugs at your pant leg. You break the kiss with a bit of a spinning head and try to shift your focus. Keegan beats you to it, scooping your child into his arms and bouncing them on his hip.

"What's this?" He asks, taking the offered drawing from the child. He turns it over and whistles, clearly impressed. "Gotta say Monster, you really know how to capture my good side." He turns the paper to you and you laugh at the scribbled in darkness around stick figure Keegan's eyes, the sharp teeth you think are supposed to be his usual mask. He grins, bounces the kid again to get them giggling, and set them down again with a, "Go make one for mom."

You press your fingers to your lips watching your baby eagerly scurry away, trying to keep your laughter to yourself. Keegan sticks the drawing to the fridge with one of the letter magnets. He kisses your cheek before you can turn to ask him to help.

He keeps his voice low, lips against your ear. You're glad for it, glad for the privacy as he addresses your fears. "Next time the witch finds 'em, gimme a call, I'll go make sure she isn't stickin' the little monster in a cauldron."

Keegan stands outside of the misplaced cottage, his grip on Riley's leather leash tight as he knocks on the door. He can feel the sticky barbs of witches wards. Nasty little fuckers. If his kid is in a cauldron there's gonna be hell to pay. The door is tugged open almost absentmindedly, and Keegan narrows his eyes at the familiar fae.

"Gonna be a second they got-" Price looks up from wiping his hands and narrows his eyes, "Russ." Riley growls low.

"Price," Keegan drops the glaring in favor of a much more annoying neutrality, "Thought you ate witches."

"I do," Price raises a brow. Keegan glances around him and into the house. The witch, he assumes that's the witch, is wiping his kid's face with the corner of her apron. Very much un-eaten. He didn't know the old man could be funny. "Knew the kid smelled familiar."

"Aw," Keegan tuts, "you remember me."

"Remember you're a pain in my-" Price cuts himself off, suddenly in tiny earshot.

Keegan crouches to scoop up the child as they run towards him, all excited smiles and babbling half finished sentences. Riley gives an excited 'wuff' in response. "Hey monster!" Keegan coos at the kid, hardly glancing at the witch trailing behind, "Gave your mom a scare, you walk all the way here by yourself?" The kid nods eagerly, hardly bothered by the fluff of witch magic sticking to them. Changelings, resilient little buggers.

The witch stops short of the doorway, "Oh," She frowns, "are you the father?" Her fingers itch towards her necklace, gripping the edges of the stone triangle that hangs from it. The large hole through the middle menaces in the evening light.

"Better not," Keegan warns. He shifts his grip on the kid, pulls the dog's leash to loop around his wrist, and holds out his hand. "Keegan Russ." The witch makes a face, and Price takes a half step in front of her. Interesting.

"Witch is fine," She takes his hand with a firm grip, "you use your full name."

"Nope." Keegan pops the last consonant, hears the kid do the same and keep doing it. "But it makes it easier for other folks to give up theirs."

"Suppose so," The Witch nods once, before turning her attention to the child in his arms. Probably for the best, more comfortable for all of them. "You tell your mummy hi for me alright?" The kiddo nods, cuddling close to Keegan.

"I catch you trying to boil my little monster I'll have your head," Keegan tells her flatly. The Witch's mouth opens and closes indignantly as he turns to go, hardly needs the word to get the dog to follow. He hears snippets of her half finished thoughts, barely able to come up with a suitably upset response. Witches are so easy, mention one crime from a hundred years ago and they all act like it's a personal offense.

"The P stands for Prick," Price calls after him. Keegan holds up his middle finger for him, hardly missing a step. His kid waves excitedly over his shoulder, before notice the gesture their father is giving, and giving their best imitation of it.

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