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sirenmoth · 6 months

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Warm Winter

Werebear x Human!Reader

Synopsis: Your teddy be- i mean werebear partner doesn't like you out in the cold

AO3

we need more monster fluff

Cold weather was a given living so far out in the woods, winter was when it got bad with the mountines of snows and skin biting blizzards, below freezing temperatures and scared fresh food other than meat and canned rations. Keeping a ental note to try and make and indoor greenhouse somewhere in the cabin to grow fresh produce when the spring thaw arrives. The small cabin as big enough and sturdy enough to keep the harsh elements of a mid november snow storm out, through the wind crept in through what cracks crevices it could find, another mental notes of what needed repairs.

Your partner slept more during these months to conserve energy, curling up on a makeshift bed of fur pelts and stolen camping equipment. You, however, didn't have that biological need to sleep for months on and off, becoming restless staying in bed all day. So you built a routin for the colder months, put in place when the sun starting setting earlier over the dusted white treetops and frozen over lakes. Keeping as quiet as possible, as not to disturb the ball of nesting fur in the bedroom. You saved the outdoor activities and chores for the warmer seasons, those usually consisted of fixing and repairing the damange the winter war has done, building up the little fort the two of you call home al over again, hoping it can survive another battle against the elements.

The cabin didn't have a lot of rooms, just a bedroom, living room, kitchen and bathroom, not much but it's home. You always leave the bedroom for later, giving it a deep clean in the fall before your partner goes to sleep and in the spring when your partner wakes up.

The first thing you do is start a fire, the small woodburner in the living is enough to provide heat for most part in the cabin, a massive wood pile sat beside it, another one sat in the kitchen by the stove. All lovingly chopped by your partner before they decided to crash for the winter.

Next you start on the kitchen, checking the food preservatives in the pantry and marking down what was running low and what was due to be expired soon down on a clipboard they brought a year years back when you asked if they had another to keep records for food during winter, knowing your partner it was from a campsite of unsuspecting campers who didn't know or didn't care they were in a bears' territory.

Picking up a bucket and broom on your way out, wanting to dust and sweep both the living room and kitchen. Thankfully the place stayed clean throught most of the colder months due to your being the only one active. Walking over to the bathroomand putting the bucket in the tub, the sink was too shallow for it, and walking back out to pick dust the shelves and organise. A quick glance outside, the snow has picked up into a light blizzard, white specks dances around in the air in rapid movments, the landscape now a frozen white desert. It was going to be a rough night, silently you prayed the cabin could stand up against it and keep you both warm and safe.

Finding a new place at the moment is less than desirable.

Retriving the bucket from the bathroom and turing off the tap, it was barely half full but everything needs to be conserved during the winter season. A loud bang rang out throughout the cabin, startling you, nearly making you drop the bucket. The source of the noise was one of the indoor shutters that flew open from a strong gust of wind, hastily you put the bucket down and , as quickly as you could, placed it back in its place, hoping no heat escaped.

An errie quite falls over the space, listening for movement, waiting to see if the noise distrubed the snoozing mass. A low growl emitted throughout the small space, the beast was awake and fully aware of a certain human missing from the nest. The sound made you froze, stopping the sudden repairs on the window shutter.

"I'll be there in a minute." you call out, finishing securing the shutter in place and closing it, latching it shut. Turing around you come face to face with the recently awoken werebear, grumpy and tired their sleep was interupted, standing hunched over in the door frame, staring you down. "I was just cleaning, I was going to come back to bed once I'm done." You attempt to explain.

Your explaination does very little as you're lifted up into the air and over their shoulder, dragged back to the bedroom, all chores supposed to be done be damned.

A strained groan leaves your throat as you get dropped with force onto the makeshift bed, then a heavy, hulking figure practiaclly collapse on top of you as soon as you make contact with the pile of fur and equipment. Smiling, you put up a fake struggle, squirming around to try and break free. Another growl is heard, a warning to stop it, still you continue to movie, trying to find a comfy spot. A strong paw traps you, pinning you down by the waist and pulls you in, close enough to feels your bears' warmth but not enough to suffocate you in their fur.

"I had work to do. Who do you think maintains this place while you sleep?" You poke at the soft pile beside you, which grunts in response, too tired to properly respond to your sarcastic remark.

"Mhm, I love you too." another grunt in reply. Rolling over to cuddle in closer, sighing contently, pressing your face into their chest. Feeling them curl around you like a personal heater, a furnace, keeping you warm from the cold. Sleep once again entered your mind, knowing you're not going anywhere any time soon, you let it.

Hopefully you'll be able to get everything you missed done tomorrow, along with what is also planned for that day. Knowing you hace your work cut out for you. Right now you let youself be effectively trapped and pinned to the bed, you decide staying isn't so bad, beside you need rest for the double work you've got set up for tomorrow.

#monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster fucker #monster x human #monster x reader #monsterfucking #monster smut #monster fluff #teratophillia #terato #terat0philliac #monsterfucker #monsterfucking cw #monster #monster x you

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compact-turtle · 8 months

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How would all three yans react to having children? Good or bad?

This is actually such a fun prompt and ask! Thank you for sending it in. I'd actually love to write a full post sometime instead of a small little drabble about this! It'd be so much fun imaging one of their daily routines and lives with a family.

Atticus:

-Isn't really that interested in kids unless his darling wants them. At first, he'll try to talk his darling out of it. Gives lists of reasons on why he can't be a dad. Eventually, comes around to it if his darling really wants them.

-He's a strict and stoic father. Makes sure the kids go to bed at a certain time, finish their chores and do their homework. The kids have to be punctual.

-Not a fan of extreme harsh punishments at all. No taking away meals, locking in closets or any of the sorts. Especially, hitting if they don't listen. (His parents used to do it to him which has resulted in a traumatized farmer)

-More type of look at the consequences of your actions. You don't do your homework, then you fail your class. You don't collect eggs from the chicken coop, no eggs for breakfast. You don't feed the dogs, look at them go hungry. (The doggies don't actually go hungry since Atticus secretly feeds them, they're just always begging for food)

-Shows he loves them through his actions instead of words. He'll take them special getaway trips, go bird watching, catch bugs, make presents, etc. He wants his kids to know that he loves them despite his strict behavior. He's trying to break the cycle of generational abuse that came from his parents. It's hard ngl but he makes an effort every day to overcome it.

For readers who imagine pregnancy:

-kisses your belly when you're asleep. Reassures the baby that he'll always take care of them. He would never do it when you're awake since he's nervous you'll deem him as less than manly or "strong".

-Does not let you work on the farm at all!! He hires extra farmhands to replace your usual help. Lectures and scolds you when you try to do anything. Don't you know that an accident could happen any time especially somewhere dangerous like this farm??

-Your safety and the baby's safety are top priority at all times.

-Watches films and tv shows about pregnancy and families. He makes sure to remember all the details so he can be the best father just like on the tv!

-No sexy time at all when pregnant! He's afraid it'll injure the baby. Only complies when his darling coaxes him into it but even then, it took a while.

Orion:

-Hella yea. The only one who's willing to jump on board and be excited for them. Takes the kids out on daily foraging and exploration nearby the home. Teaches them how to jot down information.

-Shows them his notes on all different types of plants, creatures and landscapes. Tells them which things to avoid and how to survive if in contact with dangerous creatures.

-Kids grow an immunity to his terrible cooking. Actually, enjoy it and treat is as an odd delicacy to be savored.

-The children are taught both languages. Darling's for communicating with other members of the species but his in case they need to talk, and others are listening in.

-Reminds the kids how much he adores them and their mother every day. Tells them tales about his home world and adventures with their mother.

-However, his favorite story to tell is about how their mother heroically saved him from death and starvation. Sometimes he embellishes details like

"Oh, your mother also fell in love at first sight with me. They were just too shy to admit it, but I could tell."

-The real question though, are human species able to get darling's species pregnant???

For readers who imagine pregnancy:

-Does darling get pregnant like a human? Orion will have to find out. However, I imagine the way of getting pregnant to be similar, but they don't give birth. Instead, an egg like thing forms within their reproductive system and they push out something similar to an egg.

-The egg would hatch within two months after growing to full term.

-Orion has built a nest for the egg and watches it every night. Proudly tells the egg about all the adventures they'll go on as family.

-Darling insists that Orion doesn't need to baby the egg since the shell is quite strong. Still, he doesn't listen and frets over any small movement from it. Makes little hats and scarves and dresses the egg in it.

-Orion makes sure to take so many notes during this period. What color is the egg? How long before it hatches? How many times does it move in an hour?

-He takes notes in case darling and him decide to have another egg baby. He'll be more prepared second round.

-Enjoys setting the mood up for some sexy time. He feeds you the right food, sets up the small hut just right and everything. Ofc he'll makes sure to cover the baby egg with a blanket. He doesn't want your baby egg to see anything inapposite after all.

Ivar:

-He'd want to wait a few years into marriage. The idea of kids is daunting. He's seen the worse of man and how destructive the world can be. Really nervous about letting kids out into that type of environment. Still, he does desire a family that you'll raise together.

-He's a fun goofy dad. Takes all the stress of the kids when he arrives home. Plays with them, teases them and drains all their energy so you can relax. I'd imagine that Ivar insists that you be a stay-at-home mom while he goes to work.

-Listens to his kid's problems from boyfriend issues to " I can't believe they cancelled my show". Actively enjoys listening to his kids talk about anything and everything.

-Signs his kids up for self-defense classes. He's aware that there's so many dangers in the world and he can't always be there to help. They've got to be prepared for anything that could happen.

-Supports his kids in all their activities. Shows up to every single game, recital, spelling bee, etc. Whatever it maybe, he'll be there. Wants them to know he cares about them and their interests.

-Doesn't really enjoy mentioning stories from his time at war to them. He's afraid it'll corrupt their world view and he want them to live a peaceful life :(

For readers who imagine pregancy:

-Ivar reads up on all those mom-blogs and pregnancy books. Puts headphones on your belly so your baby can listen to Mozart. Does it actually do anything? Idk the mom blog says it stimulates baby growth or something like that.

-You have a strong craving at 1 in the morning? He's on the case to get it for you. If he can't find it any stores, then he'll drive over to the next few towns to get it. He's so determined to find it.

-loves decorating the baby's nursery. He'll put up decorations and different decals for the baby. Also enjoys building things for it such as dresser and the crib.

-Also doesn't let you by yourself. You want to talk a walk around the neighborhood by yourself? Nope. He's right there holding your hand or pushing you in a wheelchair.

-loves to initiate sexy time with you. During his mom blog reading, he read that it was a great past time while pregnant. Plus, he loves you no matter what you look like even if you're insecure about your changing body.

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hyperactively-me · 8 months

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king!ghost x reader -- attack

warnings: physical violence, blood, stitches, torture tactics

The village bustled with activity as you and King Simon strolled through its narrow cobblestone streets. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the local bakery, and the vibrant colors of market stalls caught your eye. It was a very rare occasion for the both of you to venture into the heart of the village, usually both preoccupied with matters within the palace. It was even more rare that you two were out in the village without an entourage of knights. No, it just you and Simon, Simon and you.

Every so often, you had ventured into the village, but you were always accompanied by Soap and another lower-rank knight, usually one that was in training. You never really minded their company, but every so often you had a quiet yearning to be able to go out into the village by yourself. A queen can dream.

“Are you sure about this, love?” Simon asked, a protective instinct flickering in his eyes. “I usually have a knight accompany you for a reason.”

You grinned, wrapping your arm around Simon’s. “Oh, stop worrying. I just want to be here like any other person. No need for all the fanfare today. Besides, I have you by my side.”

Simon chuckled, his concern easing as he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. You were right, after all. He was perfectly capable of protecting you.

As you and Simon continued your leisurely walk through the village, the atmosphere felt light, and the people, recognizing you both, greeted you warmly. As you wandered deeper into the village, absorbing its sights and sounds, the simplicity of the day felt refreshing.

As you and Simon continue your leisurely walk through the village, you both come across a path leading into a more secluded area of the village.

“Never been this way before,” you hum before dragging him down the street.

Intrigued by the path less traveled, you decided to explore the more secluded corners of the village. The sounds of the bustling market gradually faded away, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hum of villagers going about their daily chores.

The path meandered through quaint cottages adorned with colorful flowers. It was a picturesque scene, and you couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of it. Simon, too, seemed to enjoy the view, humming with pleasure at the landscape.

However, just as you were immersed in the tranquil surroundings, the peace dissipated. From the shadows emerged a figure, their face obscured by a hood. In a flash, the hooded figure unsheathed a sword, charging toward you and Simon with alarming speed.

Simon’s eyes narrowed, his instincts kicking in. He swiftly stepped in front of you and pushed you back, drawing his sword. The villagers, noticing the danger, scattered in a panicked frenzy.

But before Simon could fully react, driven by an instinctual need to protect, you pushed him aside, placing yourself directly between him and the charging assailant. The sword struck you on your lower right side, the pain instantaneous and sharp.

Your breath catches in your throat as the pain erupts across your abdomen. You let out a cry, collapsing to the ground. The world around you blurred, and the anguished yell of Simon pierced through the haze.

The hooded assailant, realizing their attack had been foiled by you jumping in front of Simon, attempted to flee. However, some good samaritans rushed over and tackled the attacker to the ground, apprehending the spy before they could escape.

Without second thought, Simon dropped to the ground, kneeling beside you, his hands stained with your blood as he moved to flip you on your back. Panic surges through his whole being, his face growing pale.

“No, no, no,” he whispered, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a million pounds.

His hands tremble as he applies pressure to your wound, the blood seeping through the rip in your dress.

“Simon, it hurts,” you mutter, your voice hoarse, pain flooding your senses like never before.

Simon’s eyes filled with terror as he desperately tried to assess the extent of your injury.

“I know, I know,” he mutters.

The villagers, now realizing the gravity of the situation, called for a doctor. Simon’s usually composed demeanor cracked, and his voice wavered with fear.

“Stay with me, keep your eyes open,” he pleaded, his hands frantically working to stop the bleeding. His hands trembled as he applied pressure to your wound in an attempt to stop blood loss.

“We need help here!” he yells over his shoulder, voice angry and desperate.

“Simon,” you slur, trying your best to keep your eyes open for him. Your head is pounding. “I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

Simon's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

Within moments, a village doctor rushed to your side, their expression grave as they took in the scene. The villagers who had detained the assailant handed them off to a few palace guards who had been called to the scene.

“Your majesty, I’m a doctor!” they clarified.

Simon's anger simmered beneath the surface as the doctor took over, their skilled hands quickly assessing the wound. The villagers, sensing the tension, gave the king a wide berth as he struggled to contain his emotions.

“Do what you have to do,” he pleaded, now moving to grab onto your hand. He was trying his best to not look at your blood on his hands. It made his stomach lurch with disgust.

Once the doctor looked over your wound, they looked up and spoke.

“It’s not fatal, your majesty. It is a deep wound, though.”

Simon didn’t budge the moment the doctor began to examine you, watching them extremely carefully as they pulled out some bandages. A ragged gasp escapes your throat as the doctor starts to apply some of the bandages to the wound.

“Careful,” Simon’s voice dropped in warning. The doctor froze for a moment, then gulped.

“Your majesty, I don’t have adequate supplies with me to fully dress the wound, but it will hold for now. She needs stitches. Your best course of action would be taking her back to the palace,” the doctor said steadily as they wrapped makeshift bandages around your lower abdomen.

Simon squeezes your hand tighter. His gaze never left you. His heart pounded in his chest, hearing your whimpers and small cries.

“It hurts,” you sniffle, your cloudy vision not helping you to stay calm.

Simon’s grip on your hand tightened even more, his jaw clenched in frustration. The helplessness gnawed at him as he watched you endure the pain. He nodded at the doctor, determination etched on his face.

“We're going back to the palace, now,” he declared, his voice a low growl.

Simon carefully lifted you into his arms, cradling you protectively against his chest. The pain shot through your body, and you winced, clutching onto him.

"I've got you," he whispered, his tone a mix of reassurance and worry.

Another gaggle of palace guards, followed by Soap, came bursting through the clearing.

Simon looked up, his eyes meeting Soap’s with a silent understanding. There was no need for words—the urgency of the situation was evident.

“Soap, you know what to do.”

Soap nods, and starts ordering guards to secure the perimeter of the village.

“We're heading back to the palace. Clear the way,” Simon ordered, his voice cutting through the air. The guards swiftly formed a protective perimeter, ensuring a safe path through the village.

The journey back to the palace was a blur of agony and urgency. Simon navigated the streets with swift determination, his eyes always bouncing back down to your form to make sure you were comfortable, or as comfortable as you could be.

Upon reaching the palace, you were rushed into the infirmary, where the palace doctors and a team of medical staff awaited. The infirmary was a hive of activity as they readied themselves for you. Simon, with a steely resolve, carried you through the palace corridors, his eyes fixed on making it to the infirmary.

The medical team quickly took over, gently transferring you to a comfortable bed. Simon was reluctant to let go, but he knew it would be better for you if the medical professionals handled it.

“Tell me she'll be alright.” The doctor turned to him, a solemn expression on their face.

“Yes, her majesty will.”

The palace doctor, with a calm and steady demeanor, began assessing the extent of your injuries. Simon, his gaze unwavering, stood by your side, refusing to step away for even a moment.

Soap, having followed closely behind, approached Simon, concern etched on his face. “We’ve secured the village and increased patrols. The assailant is being interrogated. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Simon nodded, his attention still focused on you. “Make sure every corner of Kastron is searched for any potential threats. I want answers.”

Soap saluted and swiftly left to carry out the orders.

The palace doctor turned to Simon, their expression grave. “Your majesty, we need to perform a more thorough examination and proceed with additional treatment. If you could give us some space…”

Simon hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to stay by your side and the need to trust the medical professionals. Eventually, he reluctantly stepped back, his eyes never leaving you. The doctor and their team worked diligently to address your injuries. The process of stitching was refined, additional measures were taken to ensure your comfort, and Simon paced the room anxiously, his mind filled with a storm of emotions.

After what seemed like an eternity, the medical team stepped back, signaling that the immediate crisis had passed. The palace doctor approached Simon, her expression softer now.

“She's stable. She'll need time to recover, but with proper care, she should regain her strength.”

Simon let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. His gaze softened as he looked at you, still vulnerable in the bed.

“I'll be here,” he stated, his promise echoing in the quiet infirmary.

. . .

A few hours later, Soap had returned back to the infirmary. You were now peacefully asleep, breathing even and steady.

“Ghost, we’re ready whenever you are.”

Simon nods solemnly, then presses a soft kiss on your cheek before standing up.

“Let’s go.”

. . .

Ghost followed Soap through the winding corridors of the palace towards the dungeons. The air grew colder with each step, mirroring the steel in Ghost’s gaze. As they reached the secure chambers, guards acknowledged the king and granted them passage.

The dungeon was a damp, dimly lit maze of cells. The captured assailant, hood removed, sat in a corner, their eyes defiant. Ghost’s arrival cast a shadow across the dank space, his frame blocking out the light of the torches. His expression is cold and hard; unwavering, and unrelenting.

“Who sent you?” Ghost’s voice cut through the oppressive silence.

The assailant remained silent, a thin smile playing on their lips. Ghost’s jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin. He glanced at Soap, who nodded in encouragement.

Ghost stepped closer.

“I asked you a question. Who sent you?”

The assailant's gaze remained fixed on the stone floor, an infuriating smirk playing on their lips. Ghost’s fists clenched at his sides, his patience strained.

Soap, standing beside Ghost, spoke up. “We've got ways to make you talk, one way or another. It’s your choice whether you want this to be easy or hard.”

The assailant finally spoke, their voice a low, mocking tone, “You can't stop what's coming. Kastron will crumble, and there's nothing you can do.”

Ghost’s nostrils flared with barely contained fury, but he took a steadying breath. “Tell me who is behind this. What is their motive?”

The assailant chuckled. “You'll find out soon enough. You and your precious kingdom are in for a reckoning.”

Another bout of anger flared up in Ghost’s chest. “Who. Fuckin’. Sent. You?”

The assailant was silent.

Ghost’s patience disappeared.

He marches forward and uppercuts the assailant. Ghost’s knuckles cracked against the assailant's jaw, the blow echoing through the damp dungeon. The assailant's head snapped back, and a thin line of blood trickled from the corner of their mouth. Ghost glared down at them.

“I will not tolerate threats against my home,” Ghost seethed, his voice low and dangerous.

The assailant, despite the blood on their lip, maintained their defiant smile. Ghost’s frustration surged. He leaned down, gripping the assailant's collar, his eyes ablaze with intensity.

“You're playin’ a dangerous game. I suggest you start talking before you find out just how dangerous it can get.”

The assailant's gaze flickered for a moment, yet, they remained tight-lipped.

Ghost straightened, releasing his grip. “Fine. We’ll do it the hard way.”

Ghost motioned to the guards, who approached with shackles in hand. The assailant was restrained and pulled to their feet, but still, they didn't speak. The guards exchanged knowing glances. The assailant was dragged out of the cell and into a room containing a singular barrel full of ice cold water. The assailant’s knees were kicked out from behind them, causing them to drop in front of the barrel.

“Talk.” Ghost says simply, a dangerous air to his voice. He sounded calm. Too calm.

“You nearly killed my wife, you invaded my land, so talk.”

“She- she was never the target. You were! That girl ruined the plan!”

Ghost’s eyes narrowed at the revelation. The assailant's words hung in the air, a chilling revelation. Simon gripped the back of the assailant’s head, pushing them closer to the water.

“Explain,” Ghost demanded, his voice low and commanding.

The assailant, seemingly satisfied with the chaos they caused, smirked. “The real target was always you, Ghost. The chaos, the fear—it's all a means to an end.”

Ghost’s fists clenched. “Who is behind this? Why target me?”

The assailant chuckled, a sound that grated on Simon's nerves. “You're not as untouchable as you think. There are forces at play beyond your knowledge.”

Ghost shot a glance at Soap, who shared his confusion and frustration.

“You’re from the southern kingdom.” Ghost states plainly.

The assailant is silent.

“No one gets away clean after hurting my wife.”

And with that, Ghost dunks their head in the barrel.

. . .

Back in the infirmary, you began to stir. The pain, though dulled by the medication, was still present. You opened your eyes to find the soft glow of candles and the concerned gaze of a nurse attending to you.

“Easy now,” the nurse said, their voice soothing. “You're in the infirmary. The king is tending to other matters currently.”

You nod your head, settling back into the plush pillows propping you up. All you want is Simon.

As the nurse finished their tasks, you asked, “How bad is it?”

The nurse offered a reassuring smile. “The wound is deep, but the doctors took care of you. You’ll need some time to heal.”

You nodded, grateful for the hands that had tended to you. Still, the weight of the recent events pressed on your mind.

"How long has he been gone?" you asked, a hint of urgency in your voice. You knew he would be here with you any moment he could.

The nurse sighed gently. “His majesty is busy right now. But I'm sure he'll be here as soon as he can.”

Restlessness settled over you. You couldn't shake the feeling that something much larger than the wound on your side was at play. The nurse, sensing your unease, offered a small comfort.

“The palace guards are on high alert. Whatever threat there was, they won't let it near you. Focus on getting better, and the king will be here when he can.”

Their words did little to ease your worry, but you acknowledged the truth in them. Simon was a more than capable ruler, and he would do everything in his power to protect Kastron. The nurse left the room, leaving you to the quietness of the infirmary. Time passed slowly as you lay there, your thoughts a whirlwind. Eventually, the door opened, and Simon entered, his face bearing the weight of the recent events. His eyes softened when they met yours, and he hurried to your side.

You tried to sit up, a smile breaking through the pain. “Simon…”

He gently pressed you back into the pillows. “Easy, love. How are you feelin’?”

“I'm okay,” you assured him, though the concern in his eyes mirrored your own. You watched intently as he sat down in the chair next to your bed.

“I'm sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he said, his voice filled with regret.

You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “It’s okay, I understand.”

Simon takes a breath. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Your gaze met his, determination and concern in your eyes. “I couldn't let anything happen to you,” you whispered.

Simon’s grip on your hand tightened. “I don’t want you fighting my battles.”

“We're a team, Simon. Your battles are mine, just as much as mine are yours.”

Simon’s eyes softened at your words, gratitude and concern still lingering in his gaze. “I can't bear the thought of losing you,” he admitted, his voice a raw whisper.

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded, his forehead leaning against yours. “I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you too,” you replied, feeling the weight of the words practically echo in the quietness of the infirmary.

You sit in silence for a bit, just basking in each other’s presence. After a moment, Simon stands from his chair. Wordlessly, he ever so gently moves you to the side. You let him. You’d let him do anything. After he makes sure you’re still comfortable, he slots himself next to you in the bed.

“What happened to them?” you ask as you lean your head on his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter. You're safe now,” he whispered, his voice a gentle reassurance. You don’t need to know about the violence he inflicted on them. And you were smart, you could pull the pieces together.

The infirmary remained quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustle of curtains and the distant murmur of activity from the palace. Simon held you close, his arm wrapped protectively around you, as if shielding you from the world outside.

Your question lingered in the air, the unspoken understanding that some details were better left untouched. Simon’s jaw tightened briefly, a fleeting sign of his struggle beneath his composed exterior. His fingers traced absent-minded patterns on your arm as he spoke.

“I won't let anything happen to you or Kastron.”

You nodded, knowing that Simon’s dedication is unwavering. As the night progressed, the infirmary dimmed, and Simon’s gaze drifted to the window. A soft glow from the moon illuminated the room, casting a tranquil ambiance, a stark contrast to how the next few months would pan out. The events of the day had taken a toll, but in this moment, there was peace.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

taglist: @analyseeeesworld @dragonstoneshortcake

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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solannn · 2 months

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𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐒 𝐋’𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑

ᥫ᭡ 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⤷ bsd men ; what’s their fav things to do with their lover ? gn reader, might be hinted male. Established relationship, can be imagine as bf or husband.

˒ ⏤ 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 ;

• ⮑ i feel like, he would love doing chores with you. Like chore dates /hj

• ⮑ like he’s in the kitchen, washing the dishes with you. While he dulled the dirty plates, and made a pile of plates. You rinsed the plates and the piles. He found it fun to do chores with you, he loved it.

• ⮑ he seems like the person who hates chores or duties, however he isn’t. Sometimes he could be lazy to do it, when he isn’t in a mood. He def listen to music while doing it.

• ⮑ he will probably play with the foam from the dishwashing liquid, and put some froth on your nose, for a laugh.

• ⮑ i think, while he scrubing the dirt of the dishes, at the same time he would, he puts some music to enjoy their moments together. (It’s song about sucide) he propose to sang the song, with him. How could you refuse, this guy who was such a tease to you

9/10, it’s pretty cute that he’s helping you with chores, without getting bored.

˒ ⏤ 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚 ;

• ⮑ bikes dates, like he’s showing you his fav place at midnight.

• ⮑ like he’s taking to the countryside, late at night after a long day at work. You’re holding his waist, tightly as you sat on the behind him. As he start the cycle and began to move it forward slowly. The breezing air was going through your long/short.

• ⮑ The warmness of your held, making him smile slightly. Sometimes, on middle of the road, he would ask you if you’re doing okay, or wondering if you’re asleep.

• ⮑ he loves taking you to his favorite place, the landscape is always so beautiful. He does that, with a grin on his face he also does that after a stressful day.

• ⮑ the countryside is mostly a village is often a place where traditional ways of life are still practiced or, has rustic charm, with its thatched-roof cottages and winding streets. It’s so lovely, the ancient woods, which were still used to build houses, the trees and bushes which surrounded several villages. Lights illuminated their view, to better see the landscape. The stars shone brightly, and the moon was reflected by the sun.

10/10 it’s makes me feel sleepy, if someone does that to me, specially if i had a hard day.

𝐅𝐲𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐬𝐤𝐲 ;

If you’re a musician/violonist ;

• ⮑ you loved, music, and syncs melody and so does Fyodor.

• ⮑ don’t you think a violinist and a cellist, are the most perfect duo for each other ?

• ⮑ To calm down after a hard day, or you just want to relax with your partner. The music filling in the room, they didn’t need the lyrics, the intrusment was already perfect.

• ⮑ While you play violin, he plays cello with you, creating the most beautiful and elegant melody. The song was relaxing to both of your ears.

• ⮑ A harmonious, and tuneful melodious sound filled the room, Fyodor’s eyes was closed, enjoying the melody you made, with him. You and Fyodor were having fun, no matter what melodious music he started playing, you could follow him, or recognize the music without any problem. Once the music stopped, Fyodor opened his eyes again, looking at you and curve his lips into a grin. Fyodor had noticed, but not you. Nikolai and Sigma were in the same room, they were curious to hear such synchronized music. Nikolai was amused, as he clapped his hands, quickly, whereas Sigma clapped softly, while glaring at the excited clown.

idk what to rate him, i don’t even play instruments

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samalong1 · 11 months

Text

How you get slashers to do the dishes

Ft jason voorhees brahms heelshire sawyer brothers Thomas hewitt Freddy krueger pinhead yautja and Beetlejuice

Jason voorhees

He was raised to be a good boy and help with household chores

He probally woudnt automatically do them without you he woudnt give cleanliness a 2nd thought

But you fluttering your eyelashes and asking him please will get him on it

Pls don't yell at him to do it he'll still do them but he'll get all scared

Probally likes doing them with you reminding him of helping his mom with the dishes makes him feel nostalgic

Would wear a frilly apron if you ask nicely

Brahms heelshire

Much harder

Spoiled boy

You don't ask him you make him

Won't throw a tamptrum but he'll be all huffy and moody

Do it with it ask him to help you and praise him for being so helpful

If you withhold kisses or affection for not doing them then he'll throw a tamptrum

Won't wear the frilly apron

Freddy krueger

Your dreaming and banging the dude in control of your dreams and you dream of dirty dishes

If it's some weird household domestic fantasy he'd still give you the side eye

Judges you for dreaming of dirty dishes

Hit em with a broom if you really want him to

Don't even try with the frilly apron

Nubbins sawyer

Don't he'd smash them while laughing then ask if he did good

Probably would wear the frilly apron for a second before ripping it off

Bubba

Please don't he's clumsy and will break them and then turn to you looking like a sad puppy that he failed you

Pls make him wear the frilly apron

He'd wear it even if you didn't mention ot

He may be shit at chores but loves wearing the apron and makeup mask pretending to be your housewife while giggling and stimming happy to have fun like this

Chop top

He'd just tap his head and go "still got a nice clean playe here" and walk off proud of his joke

Drayton sawyer

This old cranky man already running a buisness,making sure his younger brothers don't get them caught or do some stupid bullshit,cooked all the food,and making sure things run smoothly

He'd bring up how hard he works and how he had to raise three boys on his own after grandpa got to old how hard he works to keep the lights on

He won't even be guiltiling you after a bit he'd just be ranting and venting like your his therapist

After he got all that off his chest he'd just yell at you to stop being lazy and how everyone has their work and they better do it

He doesn't care your smooching him

Pls get him therapy

Thomas hewitt

Luda mae does the dishes anyway

You probally do aswell to contribute to the house since hoyt won't let ya laze around

But if you want help just tell him how much they piled out and how it's overwhelming and he'll help he won't do it on his own

If you want to give luda mae a break just tell hik how hard she's working to support everyone and how caring she is and how much she'd love it if her baby boy did the dishes and he'd be at the sink quickly

Woudnt wear the apron don't even ask

Pinhead

Your fucking a cenobite you probably aren't in any landscape that has a kitchen with dirty dishes

Beetlejuice

If he wants anything like you to say his name or do some weird sex thing just be like "hmm I dunno you haven't really helped out lately" or how your to busy with the dishes for it

If he still refuses just whack him with a broom

You can get him to wear a apron by wracking him with the broom

Yautja

New to Ooman chores

The dishes are so tiny against his hands

He'd break them and then get frustrated je isn't doing his precious ooman's task correctly

He'd break a few dishes and then either rage or sulk

Possibly get him to wear a frilly apron

#freddy krueger x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #bubba sawyer #drayton sawyer #drayton sawyer x reader #pinhead #pinhead x reader #nubbins x reader #choptop sawyer #chop top x reader #nubbins sawyer #brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #brahms heelsire x reader #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees #friday the 13th #yautja x reader #beetlejuice x reader

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dystopia-incognito · 7 months

Text

Male Werewolf x Female Reader

Warning: NSFW (minors DNI) contains sex/dubcon A short spicy story of 1,977 words about a young woman encountering a werewolf.

A little side note: I NEVER write, I'm a nervous wreck for just posting this. That being said.. I wrote this little dabble specifically for a very special person the night before their birthday as a surprise and I might never actually finish it. Do enjoy it for what it is, though! <3

Freedom. In a tranquil corner of the world, nestled by the edge of a serene lake, Y/N found her escape from the bustling village that had kept her busy for far too long. The cool, inviting water lapped gently at her feet as she sat on the grassy shore, her emotions swirling like a symphony. It was the first sensation that washed over her. As her toes touched the water's surface, she felt liberated. Here, away from the ceaseless demands of her family and the never-ending chores of the village, she could finally breathe. By this quiet lake, she could be herself, unburdened by obligations. She smiled and hiked up her modest dress a little higher to not get it wet, the lush grass beneath her bare legs seemed to embrace her like a lover. Overhead, the leaves rustled like ancient scrolls, and the rhythmic ripples of the lake provided a soothing lullaby. In this moment, she merged seamlessly with the natural world, an integral part of a harmonious landscape. The water's gentle caress on her ankles brought forth sheer delight. She wiggled her toes, savouring the exquisite sensation. With each movement, every ripple she created in the water, she found a wellspring of unadulterated joy. Her laughter echoed, blending harmoniously with the songs of the birds in the nearby trees. Her gaze was drawn to the horizon, where the sun's golden glow painted the sky with hues of orange and pink. Her thoughts wandered to the future, where dreams and aspirations converged. Her heart swelled with optimism and a sense of adventure, as if the world itself were an open book, waiting for her to write its next chapter. It was a future where her heart would find its truest desires, where every sunrise held the promise of new adventures, and where her spirit would soar unburdened.

As the sun descended lower, casting elongated shadows across the water's surface, she closed her eyes for a moment. The soft breeze gently played with her hair and gently kissed her cheeks, carrying the fragrant scent of the surrounding pines. It was a tranquil pause, a chance to gather her thoughts amidst the serenity of her secluded haven. But as the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting the forest clearing in a deepening twilight, she suddenly became aware of a presence. It was a sensation she couldn't ignore, a feeling that sent a shiver down her spine. Beyond the familiar forest clearing that had always felt like her refuge, something new and unsettling had emerged.

The tranquil harmony of nature seemed disrupted as if an intruder had entered this sacred space. She stood up slowly, brushing her out of her face, slipping hastily into her boots, her heart pounding with an inexplicable mixture of curiosity and trepidation. She scanned the tree line, her eyes straining to pierce the gathering darkness. And there, between the dense shrubbery and shadowy trees, she saw it— a pair of eyes glowing with an eerie luminescence. The intensity of their gaze sent a chill through her, and she felt a sense of foreboding. She considered the possibilities: perhaps it was a lone wolf, their eyes reflecting the fading light. Or, in the depths of her imagination, a more ominous thought took root— a creature of legend and terror.

As she slowly retreated from the water's edge, she couldn't tear her eyes away from those glowing orbs in the darkness. Her instincts told her to be cautious, to respect the untamed wildness of the forest, and to tread carefully as she made her way home. With each step, she couldn't shake the feeling that the presence she had sensed was something beyond the ordinary, something that had been drawn to the tranquil haven she had sought for solace and reflection. The mystery of those glowing eyes haunted her thoughts as she ventured back toward the village, journeying through the forest's depths. With a heart pounding in her chest, she hurriedly attempted to make her way back through the dark forest.

Fear of the possible threat had her senses on edge, and as she ventured deeper, an unsettling disorientation began to grip her. The once-familiar forest now felt foreign, as if the trees had rearranged themselves while her attention was drawn to the mysterious presence by the lake. Thick greenery pressed in from all sides, making it difficult to discern one path from another. The foliage seemed to conspire, creating an eerie sameness that made every turn look alike. Her footsteps, once confident, now faltered as uncertainty took hold. Panic threatened to consume her as she feared she had strayed from her familiar way home. The forest's natural beauty had transformed into an intimidating maze, where every tree and every shadow appeared as a deceptive mirror image of the last. As the encroaching darkness deepened, she battled her rising anxiety, pushing her body through the underbrush, trying to remember the landmarks she'd used countless times to navigate these woods.

It was a race against time and her fear, an urgent attempt to find her way back to the safety of the village before the night's secrets fully unfurled, and her fear of the unknown became a reality. As the unsettling sense of being stalked by what she could only assume to be a werewolf tightened its grip on her, she felt a growing unease that urged her to flee. Panic and adrenaline coursed through her veins, driving her to her feet as she started running through the dark forest. With each pounding step, her surroundings grew increasingly unfamiliar. Trees loomed like shadowy sentinels, and the underbrush seemed to tangle at her feet. She ran aimlessly, her heart thundering in her chest as she picked up speed, the urgency of escape driving her forward. In the oppressive darkness, the sound of her breath and the rush of her footsteps filled her ears. But then, she began to hear something else— a haunting, primal sound echoing through the trees. It was the unmistakable sound of pursuit, the creature she had feared drawing nearer with each passing moment.

The relentless rhythm of its power and grace echoed in her ears, a chilling reminder of the danger that chased her through the labyrinthine forest. She dared not glance back, for the terror had become all too real, her only thought was to find her way to safety in this perilous game of survival amidst the darkness. Her heart was pounding in her ears and her limbs failing her as she ran through the forest, her breath ragged and laboured, each step became a monumental effort. In her desperate flight, she suddenly tripped over a gnarled root, sprawling to the forest floor. Pain seared through her, but adrenaline surged through her veins. She scrambled to get up but hit the ground again, exhausted she realized, her escape had come to a heartbreaking halt.

Her body refused to obey her commands, with trembling limbs she lay there, chest heaving as she fought her burning lungs to breathe. She snapped her head up to look around, her nightmare had vanished into the shadows but she knew it was only a matter of time before it would catch up to her again. Willing herself to move, she managed to roll onto her back, peering into the direction she had come from as her eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding her. Long minutes passed, and then over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears, she heard it — rustling of leaves and twigs, the eerie whisper of fur against the night air. The werewolf, with one giant leap, emerged from the shadows and fixed its feral eyes upon her.

Frozen in fear, she felt unable to breathe, dwarfed by its imposing size, she could feel the creature's hot breath as it drew near on all fours, coming as close as to hover over her. The scent of the forest and the wildness of the beast enveloped her, and for a moment that stretched into eternity, they remained locked in a tense and inexplicable stillness. Y/N couldn't tear her eyes away from the werewolf's gaze, and the creature's intelligent eyes seemed to calculate the situation, caught between predatory instincts and fascination with her presence. Then, with a hesitant and almost tender movement, the werewolf lowered its large head and sniffed her.

It was a surrealistically intimate moment, where the boundaries between fear and curiosity blurred into something she couldn't comprehend. Y/N, still frozen in place, allowed it to happen, her heart pounding in her chest. The forest rustled, the night held its breath and she and the this wild beast existed in a tense and enigmatic moment. She now was at the mercy of the unknown. Not knowing what the future held, in that fragile moment of shared vulnerability, something unexpected had passed between them.

…

And then the spell was abruptly broken as it leaned in, got a hold of her face, and licked it. Its tongue left long clammy strokes over her cheek and down the side of her neck. With its wet snout, it nudged the low neckline of her dress for access. She gasped and thrashed in sheer surprise, struggling to get away, but the werewolf muscled her back firmly to the lush forest floor. It withdrew slightly to look at her, growling a low, possessive warning which vibrated through her very being. In horror, she watched the beast's thick, viscous drool drip from its fangs and felt it land with a deliberate and heavy splat onto her chest. Shivers ran down her spine as the invasive syrupy substance tenaciously clung to the soft slopes of her rising and falling chest, lazily pooling down into her cleavage as it glistened in the dim moonlight.

She could only expect the worst, powerless, as it continued to sniff her. Its keen sense of smell and big paws explored her curvacious body, moving downwards to dip underneath the hem of her dress, sending her nerves on edge. Its snout then pushed upwards, moving her dress along with the motion, to nuzzle apart her thick trembling thighs. Her fingers dug into the fresh earth beneath her and her skin prickled as goosebumps appeared all over her body, But before she could even flinch it let her know once more, and quite vocally, she wasn't allowed to move. Taking two deep huffs of her, the werewolf's hot breath washed over her sex. A strangled noise escaped her, and then, without any warning, it hungrily began lapping at her. The sudden sheer sensation of it drew a high-pitched wail from her lips, like a wounded animal, her body curled in on itself, thighs clamping down weakly around its powerful head. Her hands shot down to grab white-knuckled fists full of the beast's thick mane as it continued, absolutely unbothered, to wetly slobber away at her. And it was too much at once. Her stomach tied in knots, and she shook with mixed emotions tumbling away inside her, even if pleasure slowly but surely bloomed in her core. Then the creature's head snapped up, licking its lips as sure goal-set glowing eyes met hers to stare her back down into submission, into the moss and dancing leaves beneath her. She was overwhelmed by it, the werewolf's sheer masculinity and assertive power made her feel more vulnerable than if she were completely exposed to him. It, on the other hand, wasted no time and grabbed at her, pulling her in and pushing her back against his hips eagerly. Her insides contracted involuntarily as it ripped at her dress for easier access to more of her body. She was met with throbbing heat on her newly exposed skin, carnal desire and the sheer size of Him against her tummy. Her mouth went dry with the realisation of what would happen next..

- FIN

#monster fucker #werewolf smut #werewolf lover #werewolves #werewolf x female reader #werewolf #my writing #please be gentle it's my first time (posting any of my writing that is)#werewolf boyfriend

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koisuko · 5 months

Text

Based on a dream:

Tw: angst, gn reader, mentions of blood, established relationship

“Ghost!” Your voice left your lips in nothing more than a whisper. The name echoing in the foggy nothingness surrounding you, reaching nobody's ears but your own. The space seemed obscured, a strange bluish tint, subtle but still noticeable with a careful eye. The nightlife you would expect seemed dead silent, furthering the unease you already felt. Regardless, you kept running. Your feet thumping against the wet grass beneath you, pumping your legs as fast as you could until the muscles burned and ached. The air in your lungs felt like fire with each heavy breath. Something lingered behind you, looming over your shoulder with the promise of harm. You don’t know what, or who, you were running from, but you know where you were running to. Keep going. Don’t stop, there will be a way, you thought.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of repeating scenery, you reached the lawn of a familiar homestead. Only taking a split second of a break before running again, tears streaming down your cheeks with each shaky breath in. Strangely enough, the heavy fog still blanketed the area, not once fading except to reveal the house you came across. It almost felt like running on a treadmill, hardly able to discern whether you were going forward or back.

You reached the porch of the small home, taking a breath at the stairs before once again pleading for an answer, “Ghost!” Nothing. All hope is leaking away in an open wound in your heart. Until suddenly, the familiar footsteps approached rapidly. Bursting through the door, he stood, looking off with wide eyes to the darkened woods around him. “Ghost, I found you!” It felt like a chore to speak, your voice coming out weaker than intended. He looked different, his eyes heavy with melancholy and lips plastered with a permanent frown. Bags of sleepless nights accumulated under his eyes, stubble covering his usually smooth jaw. Slowly, you moved to wrap your arms around his waist in a tender embrace. Touching him felt…different, vacant and cold. You sat there for a moment, holding him tight, yet he never reciprocated. Instead, you felt him shiver in your hold, goosebumps rising on his exposed skin. A quivered sigh left his lips, compelling you to lift your head from his chest and meet the gaze of those deep brown pools you love so much. As you did, you were caught off guard by the fact that he wasn’t looking at you. More like, he was looking past you, beyond your figure to the landscape behind you. Cranking your head, you looked to where he seemed to peer longingly, only to see nothing peculiar that caught your attention. “What’s wrong, love?” You asked, your voice was smooth and sweet, a voice you only used with him, your beloved. Nothing. He gave you no response as he turned to leave back inside. Did you do something wrong?

You followed behind him, your brows knitting together in concern of his odd behavior. He may be distant to many, but never has he blatantly ignored you. The thick fog from outside seemed to leak into the house. You found it odd, unnerving even, but focused your attention back to your husband. You watched him move to sit on the floor of the kitchen, leaning his back against the cabinets. His head fell forward, eyes closed presumably in deep thought. “Honey, talk to me.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze as you sat beside him.

You two often did this, sitting beside each other on the kitchen floor, talking for hours on end about shit no one else cared to listen to. It was your favorite pastime, your favorite activity after a hard day. He always gave you his undivided attention, dedicating his time to lending you an ear when everyone else brushed your words off like dust.

Once again, you were met with silence. However, you refused to give up. This wasn’t unusual for him, some days he felt no need to speak, or he was too exhausted to communicate. So, instead of pinning it on him as some form of punishment, you held patience and understanding. “Is there anything I can do?” You uttered, “I can make you some te-“ your words were cut short by his raspy voice beside you, “I miss you..so fucking much.” His voice was broken, a subtle sign of his deepest emotions that was all too foreign to anyone in his life but you. The way he spoke sounded more like a prayer to no one than a statement directly to you. You turned to look at him again, taken aback by the tears streaming down his face, painting his features in a somber display. You realized now, seeing him under the light of the kitchen, that he looked like a broken version of the man you once knew. What had you missed in the short time you were gone?

Truthfully, you don’t remember anything past waking up in the woods. What had happened to you was entirely unknown to you. You decided not to think too deep on it, focusing on the depressing man before you. “Simon,” you gingerly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, “I’m right here, no need to miss me anymore.” He made no attempt to lift his head, his shoulders continued to shake with the sobs racking his body. You moved to place a finger under his chin, in an attempt to lift his gaze to meet your own, only for him to refuse to budge. Almost like attempting to rearrange a statue with your bare hands. This struck you, what did you do to hurt him? He’s never resisted your comfort, despite being a man of few words and an aversion to physical touch. Your mind spiraled slightly, and in an attempt to center yourself, you lowered your lips to his. Curious, it felt more like kissing someone in a dream, tingly and distant, as if your lips never actually connected. Your heart broke as his lips remained fastened in place. You leaned back, tears welling in your eyes as you glanced at him once again. His right hand held the necklace tight around his neck, his head lifting slightly to rest against the cabinets.

The necklace, the one he gave you on your second anniversary. Instinctively, you brought your hand to your neck where that necklace once was, only to find a vacant space of bare skin. He clutched it tighter before speaking, “it should have been me,” he muttered in a voice so heartbreaking. Then, it hit you. The memories came flooding into your mind like a tsunami. The forest, a man, bleeding on the cold forest floor at the dead of night. You were running from him, yet that wound you remember so vaguely seemed to be non-existent.

You stumbled back, landing on your backside as you scoot away in a frantic attempt to collect yourself. It all made sense now. The fog, the endless abyss surrounding you, the echo of your voice into nothingness, how he treated you like you weren’t even there. All this time, it was already too late.

You were already dead.

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andieperrie18 · 7 months

Text

nobody's daughters (part ii)

Series: Blue Eye Samurai

Pairing: Mizu x Widowed! Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Mizu takes notice of you.

Warning: SPOILERS on Episode 5

A/n & DISCLAIMER: I'm still establishing the connection between Mizu and Reader. But future chapters will soon have more interactions. Please bear with my grammar. I'll probably proof this sometime.

Parts: ONE // TWO // THREE // MASTERLIST

Tags: @thefairywanderer @satwitch-blog @veethewriter @cutttteeee

With one final release of air, you open your eyes as the small garden in front of you. A small butterfly flutters towards you landing on your nose for a few seconds making chuckle softly from the ticklish feeling. You exhaled and finally stood from your seat.

“Excuse me,” you hear a raspy voice call you. You turn to meet your awakened patient, still weak but seeing the spotless piles of plates by the tray was enough to tell you she had eaten well. You smiled as you entered back inside and went towards her.

“You’ve eaten, that’s good to see, I suggest not doing too much these next few days if you don’t want to rip stitches, ” you trail as you arrive at Mizu’s side. She adjusts herself to face you while still struggling, reflected in expression and tone but she manages. As your gaze met hers, you were finally able to get a good look of her blue eyes.

Blue wasn’t the best description but rather a reflection of the bright sky. That would have been the best description if it weren’t for the immediate glint of darkness that flashed. Her eyes reflected a submerged iceberg. You looked away, as you cleared your throat upon realizing that you might have been staring intently at your guest. Not that Mizu had missed the long gaze, she simply looked towards the open veranda. The sound of water running beside the zen garden followed by sweet chirps of perched up birds by the wall rang around the room as the two women sat casually together for a long while.

Mizu’s attention had shifted from the garden to scanning the very room she was in. There wasn't much furniture and neither were they sophisticated but rather functional yet each still carried a feminine touch. I didn’t take the blue-eyed woman to understand that she was resting on the very room and futon of the woman of the house and her savior.

“I’ll be heading out now, I have a bit more chores to do,” you inhaled as you lifted yourself from the tatami floors of your room beside Mizu who simply watched you.

“Do not rush your recovery and take your time, you can walk around the place to stretch some muscles and simply ask Midori if you need anything,”

Mizu was a bit appalled by such a humble host, your smile did not have any kind of hidden agenda no matter how much skepticism she presumes on your every exchange. She watches you nod off to her and head out to the door.

(-+-+-+-+-)

Mizu did spend the next few days resting and took the offer of scouring around your rather spacious yet one story Japanese home surrounded by rich and thriving vegetation. She found the rural beauty of your household surreal with how peaceful it was. Midori had shared that your land was indeed settled far from the confines of any busy village or town. You have lived your life in exile.

“The madame has been a wonderful and responsible head of this household, my husband and I have dedicated our lives to helping her around this lonely home,” Mizu listened to Midori intently as she ate lunch one bright afternoon. The kind woman had taken it upon herself to accompany Mizu and had been quite a talkative nurse much to Mizu’s expectation. But she wasn’t going to complain as she found it rather nice, the old lady’s gentleness was both foreign yet not, it reminded her of those moments where she was happy with her mother despite how few they were.

Mizu and Midori dined near the veranda of the center of the house that showed the landscape of vegetation that you have been tending and growing with Tanaka.

“I find it unusual how she has intentionally taken on the task of being the head of the house. Was this house from her parents that was passed on to her?” Mizu trailed as her gaze found you at the center of the vegetable patch from the house.

“Oh no, madame was married to a farmer who owned this land, sadly died from circumstance that I am not in the position to share, but they were a happy couple and immensely contented with this life style,” Midori’s tone lowered when she spoke of your husband but immediately raised back to lighten the mood. The last thing the kind old lady wanted was for an awkward meal. Besides, you were doing well.

For a farmer or a husband, with the kind of land your household has, Mizu assumed it was impossible not to gain some kind of higher status. Doing business with your husband and his thriving produce, you could have been living a rather rich life. Not to mention, your looks.

She was no daft when it came to recognizing beauty. And like every beautiful provincial flower, she was sure that you could have found another husband to help you and provide you with a luxurious life. And yet here you were.

You, the lady of this household, dressed in a shade-colored tunic and long pants, your feet covered with a muddy enclosed straw slipper that you constantly submerged through dirt mud in your daily routine within the garden. Hair that was neither in a sophisticated style to be littered with elegant hair pieces, simply pulled together within your straw hat so that it cannot cover your face while you dig and pull the hoe in your hands to the soil. Your face was littered with dirt and sweat, yet exhaustion nor any sign of labored breaths was absent despite the fact the Mizu has been watching you word for more than an hour or two.

(-+-+-+-+-)

Mizu continues to reach full healing as days pass on, and as time passes, she has never once again had conversation with you as you were always occupied with your household and agricultural duties of your home. It was not really like Mizu has any business with your life but she's been rather curious of you. How you've chosen to live and devoted yourself to the responsibility of being the sole caretaker of your household, never bothering to find another husband and having to forever have your deceased husband's ghost of memories occupy the lost part of your heart.

Mizu came to you one afternoon as you were casually chopping each block of wood you pick up and chop and toss to a pile. A rather tall pile.

“Ah, you look like you're in good shape now,” you arched back as you watched Mizu approach you.

“I would like to thank you once again but I have to leave soon,” Mizu states firmly to you. You stared at her for a moment as her firm. Mizu bowed her head.

“I don’t think I can ever repay your kindness in not just tending to me but also being a most gracious host. But I will repay you someday,” she implores as your expression contorts to surprise and concern.

“P-please, there is no need for such a gesture,” you state as you placed your ax down and stepped towards her. You took in that her figure, her simple gray tunic that you have owned that you haven’t for a long time fit her frame perfectly, concealing her true figure from your two trusted people around your home.

Mizu took notice of this and looked down. Although your gaze wasn’t anything unkind or uncanny, it was still observant and a bit piercing through her thoughts. You did her a favor of not informing anyone of her true persona. And you know of the path she is currently walking on, she may be groggy that night but she didn’t miss your statement hurled towards her.

“If you have nothing more to say, I’ll wish for your safety, tell Tanaka to take you to my stables, take one of my horses,” Mizu’s eyes widened to this as but she never got to as Midori emerged behind her with a large bag. The kind old lady looked at her with a wrinkled smile.

You smiled at the scene and looked at your blue-eyed guest, “I highly suggest you take the horse, Midori isn’t keen on backing down on people not taking the dishes she prepares for them for travel,” you inform, Mizu looks up to meet your smile. Her chest warmed and as her lips curled in a small delight.

“You take care of yourself child,” Midori worries as she accompanies Mizu back to the main road. The female trailed beside the old lady, her hands holding the reins of her new travel company.

“I will. I’ll be forever indebted to you, Tanaka and your Madame’s kindness,” Mizu states as they stood facing each other at the side of the dirt road. The brown horse neighed beside the woman as it nudged her. Midori chuckled as Mizu smiled and continued on with her farewells.

But there warm conversation were soon to be cut short.

“Well would you look at that, you’re still alive,”

----

A/n: Channelling Inner Tanjiro Kamado next chapter.

#mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu bes #bes #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai netflix #blue eye samurai x reader

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cuubism · 1 year

Text

a time of need

Hob’s having what he’d thought would be an easy Sunday, puttering around the house catching up on chores and rest, when the worst headache he’s ever had splits down the middle of his skull.

It’s worse, even, than the time he’d taken an actual cleaver to the forehead, and woken up two days later still unable to see out of one eye. Hob’s hands shake and he barely manages to make it to the couch before he collapses. He shuts his eyes in agony and—

--then he’s in the Dreaming. So fast, between one blink and the next. And he knows, instinctively, that he was called here, by Dream or by the Dreaming itself. But he’s never been called like that, with a call full of such pain.

He staggers to his feet in the throne room. The sky high overhead, usually a placid field of stars, is swirling with red star matter, like the Dreaming has fallen into the heart of a nebula. It casts a crimson sheen over everything.

Lucienne is hurrying towards him, steps clicking sharply on the marble floor. “Hob? You should not be here. Lord Morpheus has closed off the heart of the Dreaming.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t intentional.” Hob takes in the deep creases in her expression as she reaches him. “What’s going on?”

“We are under attack.” She squeezes his arm, imploring. “You must go.”

“Under attack? What, Hell?” Hob remembers Dream mentioning it had happened before.

Lucienne shakes her head. “No. I do not know the details.”

A cavernous boom! echoes through the hall, shaking the walls. Lightning streaks across the sky, jagged scars that leave harsh afterimages in Hob’s vision. He pales at the sound. “Is he taking them on – whoever they are – by himself?”

“The dreams and nightmares are helping as best suits this kind of fight. But you must go.”

Hob shakes his head. “No, he called me for a reason. Where is he?”

“Hob—”

“Lucienne. Please.”

She relents, still troubled. “He is outside the palace gates, I know not precisely where. You will be drawn to the nexus of his power, I am sure.”

That’s good enough for Hob. He runs down the palace steps and across the bridge to the gates, reaching them much faster than he thinks should probably be reasonable, but then again he is in the Dreaming. The gates open to let him out, and then clank shut behind him.

The feeling of power is much stronger out here, as if the palace and its grounds had been held in a protective bubble. Lucienne was right about Dream’s power drawing him in; Hob finds him easily, standing at the bank of a river that seems to now be flowing with lava instead of water, and he’s just— just surrounded by… creatures.

Hob can’t define them any better than creatures, they are amorphous and shifting, claws and teeth and legs and wings emerging then disappearing again. He wonders why they haven’t gone to flank the palace, attack from all sides, before realizing that just as Dream’s power has drawn Hob in, it is also drawing the creatures to him. Making him the only target.

He isn’t carrying a weapon or even wearing armor or anything, and Hob’s heart pounds as he runs to him, and—

A creature leaps for Dream’s throat. Dream reaches into the air – into a dream? – his arm disappearing, yanks, and pulls a ribbon of flames straight through the creature’s body, throwing it out across the landscape. Grass scorches, and the other beasts in the fire’s path screech.

Another is leaping at his back, hundreds of teeth appearing from the shrouded mass of it in midair. Hob’s about to shout a warning, but no need. Dream turns, flings open his coat. The creature barrels in and falls into the swirling galaxies in the lining, its shriek cutting off sharply.

More run for him. Dream disappears into a dream, then reappears seconds later, a good twenty meters from where he’d been.

On the edge of a cliff.

A cliff which the beasts that charge for him hurtle off of, a cliff which was definitely not there before, because Dream brought it with him from the dream, mother of God, how is Hob even supposed to help here at all?

Well, fuck it. He’s got to try, doesn’t he?

As soon as he thinks it, there’s a sword in his hand. Dream doesn’t make note of his presence, but he must know Hob’s there, mustn’t he? Dream called him there, though God knows why.

Regardless, the creatures are so focused on Dream that Hob is able to take out two of them with his blade before they even notice he’s there.

They don’t… die, in the way he’d expect. They sort of scream and explode into dust, drifting off in the wind. He hopes they aren’t just going to reform or something.

“You are creatures of warmth,” Hob hears Dream say, across the field, to the rest of the creatures. It seems like there are more, not less, like they’re multiplying. God. “Please enjoy my warmest hospitality.”

A vicious blizzard descends on them.

Snow whips in wild gusts across the landscape, ice biting Hob’s cheeks. He can’t see Dream very well anymore. He hears a splash and a creature howling, and imagines Dream must have pulled a frozen lake from a dream about ice skating, or perhaps from a nightmare about drowning.

He makes his way towards Dream, determined to stay by him so he has someone at his back, even if that someone is Hob, whose powers here are meager in comparison to Dream’s.

He finds creatures in the snow and slaughters them, all of his sword work from decades past coming back to him. They come at him with fangs and claws and tails bristling with spines, but Hob isn’t afraid. His desperation to keep Dream safe is far more powerful than that.

Irrational, to want to keep Dream safe in the Dreaming. But he feels it all the same.

“This is my realm,” he hears Dream growl from somewhere in the storm, voice reverberating despite the howling wind. “It bends to my wishes. But you? Let us see how you like the dark.”

And he turns off the sun.

The Dreaming is plunged into absolute, pure darkness the likes of which Hob has never seen. There’s no moon, no stars. Hob blinks and throws his hands out, trying to balance.

And then realizes…

He can see.

Somehow. Not with his eyes, quite. But with some kind of direction at the back of his head, like the Dreaming itself is guiding him. Neat, that. Also quite likely to drive him mad if it lasts for any amount of time.

He follows the direction of Dream’s voice and finally gets close enough to see him again. There are still so many damn creatures, where are they even coming from? They are blundering now, in the dark, but must have other senses for they’re still managing to, eventually, turn for Dream. Hob watches him turn the ground beneath a group of them into quicksand. They scream and flail as they sink.

“Do you not tire?” Dream asks, idly. “Do you not relent? That is disappointing, for I tire. Of gravity, in particular.”

The realm turns upside down.

Hob’s feet stay planted on the grass as his brain spins wildly to reorient itself, but the creatures aren’t so lucky. They go tumbling down – or up? – into the air, screaming. Hob wonders if Dream’s just accidentally done the same to the entire realm, but no— looking behind him, he can see the core of the Dreaming, the palace, all the residences, still oriented the same way. Opposite to them. What in--?

Maintaining two sets of opposing gravities at once seems to be costing Dream. His chest heaves. He flips them back over again, pushing his sweaty hair back from his face. The sun pops back up into the sky, too, which is… Hob decides to interrogate it later and just be grateful for the light.

“Dream!” Hob calls, as soon as his dizziness subsides.

Dream spins to him, seeming startled. “Hob?”

So then he didn’t realize Hob was there, at least not consciously. By the time Hob reaches his side, the sword has dissolved from his grasp. “Fuck. That was… insane. Are you okay?”

Dream looks at him, brow furrowed. The rushing winter winds die down as their eyes meet, leaving drifts of snow behind. “Why are you here? You should not be here, it is not safe. I have closed off the heart of the Dreaming. How?”

“You… called me?” Hob says. “I think.”

Dream’s frown deepens. “I do not… recall. Regardless, you must go. The Dreaming is not safe at present.”

“Why? Isn’t the fight over?”

“No.” Dream looks out at the horizon. A wave of sickly, mixed colors is growing there, like oil spreading across the sky. “The real fight has yet to begin.”

“What? What about all those creatures?”

“Those were scouts. Hunting dogs.” Dream huffs. “Their masters thought perhaps they would get lucky and catch me unawares, not have to dirty their hands. Foolish. They will pay for it.”

Hob looks around, horrified, as that oil keeps spreading upward from the horizon. With it, a wave of what Hob can only describe as grayscale follows across the landscape. Color leaches out of everything and disappears. Dream watches this, expression tight but measured, following the arc of the spread.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” Hob asks.

“Let them expend their energy. Color is immaterial, I will restore it later.”

“Lure them into complacency?” Hob guesses, faint.

Dream nods. He looks even more dramatic with no warmth to his skin, all stark black and white lines.

“What are they? The invaders?” Hob asks.

Dream hums. “The closest waking world corollary would be… bacteria. It is a sickness, of sorts. They would infect and devour us.”

Hob means to say something intelligent but what comes out of his mouth is, “Bacteria have hunting dogs?”

“Well, they hardly have teeth of their own,” says Dream.

Hob shakes his head, as if that could possibly help to clear it. “And you’re going to fight these things on your own?”

“My dreams and nightmares are already helping me by letting me pull from them, so that I do not have to create everything from scratch,” says Dream. He watches as the oil spill completes its transit of the sky. The only color now is the swirling above them. “This is not a fight of physical prowess. You must leave.”

“I can’t die, Dream.”

“I would not see your mind shredded on my behalf.”

“Is that going to happen if the Dreaming doesn’t fall?”

Dream frowns. “Not… likely. And the Dreaming will not fall. I will not let it.”

“Then it’s settled,” Hob says.

Dream sighs. “You are monumentally stubborn.”

“That’s what got me this far in the first place. Can’t stop now.”

That pulls a tiny smile from Dream. “No. I suppose not.”

A shudder runs through the landscape, vibrating under Hob’s feet. Then another, like the ground itself is shivering. Hob shifts to maintain his balance, as he might once have on the deck of a ship. Dream doesn’t move at all, like the shivers travel right through him.

The air goes hot, then cold, then blazingly hot again, struggling with itself. The snow around them starts to steam. Dream’s jaw clenches, and the temperature drops violently once again, below freezing. Hob’s breath fogs in the air.

Dream is glaring at the horizon. “Stay present,” he tells Hob, in the tone one might use to call, On your guard!

Never bring a sword to a battle of minds, Hob thinks deliriously. His blade hasn’t rematerialized, and it would be useless anyway. Hob himself feels useless, but like hell will he leave Dream’s side.

“How did they even get in?” he asks.

“The boundaries of the Dreaming are porous to permit the passage of dreamers,” says Dream. “Unsavory things sometimes slip in as well.”

“Often?”

Dream’s eyes glint. “Only when enough time has passed that the folly in doing so has been forgotten.”

It’s in moments like this that Hob really thinks about how old Dream is. It’s easier to conceptualize his age in this way, funnily enough. An ancient lord once again protecting his kingdom from invaders is something Hob’s mind can grasp, even if the timescale in this case is absurdly long.

“Going to teach them a lesson, then?”

Dream smiles, slow and predatory; Hob sees in it the nightmare of every prey animal that has ever dashed through a dark forest, fleeing the gleaming of teeth. “Oh, yes.”

He closes his eyes. His fingers flutter at his side, like he’s plucking the strings of an invisible harp. Snow lifts in swirls around them, though there’s no longer any wind. Another shiver runs through the ground.

“What are you going to do?” Hob asks, at a whisper. He doesn’t know why he whispers; it just seems right in the face of the approaching power storm.

“There are known ways to destroy a waking world bacterium,” Dream says. His eyes are still shut, brow furrowed in concentration. “Burn it out, freeze it out. Take away its sustenance. Make the environment unsustainable for it. But bacteria that feasts on dream matter cannot be destroyed by something as simple as temperature; the temperature is, after all, a part of the Dreaming itself. It can gorge itself on the heat and cold as easily as on anything else.”

“So what will you do, then?” Hob asks.

Dream’s lips quirk up in a smug smile. “I am the Dreaming,” he says, not actually answering the question. “They cannot have me. If they insist on having me, then I will simply not exist at all.”

Before Hob can so much as say wait!, Dream's power screams into being around them more tangibly than Hob’s ever felt it, the air charging up with electricity, the fabric of the realm warbling around them. His ears pop with the pressure change, a whine pitching higher and higher in the atmosphere and making him wince, and Dream’s form fuzzes in and out like TV static.

Dream’s hands rise at his sides like he’s finding his balance in the shifting world around them, or perhaps conducting the dreams in an invisible orchestra. He hums, pleased with whatever he can feel rumbling through his power. Then he presses his hands outward.

Hob… doesn’t know exactly what happens, then.

It’s like everything blinks out, then back on again, like turning on and off a light switch. It’s so quick his body doesn’t even react until several seconds later, when a tremor of unease shivers up his spine. For it wasn’t like before, when Dream had blacked out the sun – Hob would swear that in that millisecond of darkness he felt nothing, not the ground under his feet, or the air he was breathing, or his own clothes against his skin. He’s not even sure he existed in that moment.

Everything around him is exactly the same, except that those threads of oily color circling the sky have disappeared. Just like that, gone, the bacteria dead, or at least banished, and Hob has no idea what Dream even did.

Everything in the Dreaming looks the exact same--

--except Dream.

Dream looks like he tumbled down a cliff then ran ten kilometers through bramble bushes. His hair is falling in clumps over his forehead, his long coat torn, his forehead prickling with sweat. His nose is bleeding, the red of it shockingly bright as color leeches back into the gray landscape, though he pays it no mind as it trickles over his lips. His hands are shaking where he holds them out, fingers now closed into fists.

“Any of you who have survived,” he snarls, glaring up at the sky, presumably speaking to the remaining bacteria, “carry a message home to your people. Enter my realm again, touch a single one of its inhabitants, and I will personally unmake your entire species. Do not test me.”

Is unmaking a species even in Dream’s power? Hob wouldn’t have thought so, but he wouldn’t care to test that theory right now, were he the species in question.

Dream wavers, then, and Hob just barely manages to lurch forward fast enough to catch him as he falls. He goes to his knees in the snow, and Dream collapses against him, shaking horribly. He coughs, a horrible, wet sound, and blood spatters Hob’s shirt.

Hob’s heart jumps into his throat. “ Dream —” He tries to get him down onto his side, but Dream clenches his hands weakly in Hob’s shirt.

“I will be—” he starts, and is cut off by more coughing, blood dripping from his lips. “Fine, in—” Another spasm of coughing. A tremor shakes violently through him.

“Shhh.” Hob holds him close. “I got you.”

Dream heaves for breath. He feels feverishly hot, now, sweating and shivering. “What the hell did you even do? ” Hob asks, running a hand over his back, a bit frantically.

“I unmade the Dreaming,” Dream says, each word a wheeze, “ripped it back into-- into its original grains of sand. Thus. Expelling the bacteria. Into the void that surrounds us, where it-- cannot survive. And then I put- put the Dreaming back, exactly as it was. It must--” he wipes blood from his mouth with a shaking hand, only succeeding in smearing it all over his cheek-- “must be done in an instant. To avoid causing harm.”

“What?” Hob breathes, a vast understatement for the horror and awe that he feels. “Dream, what?”

“Breaking my ruby gave-- gave me back power I hadn’t-- hadn’t seen in eons.” He coughs once, hard, spitting up more blood onto Hob’s shirt. “Nevertheless, I may be… down here for a while.”

Hob smoothes a hand over his shivering chest. “It doesn’t seem like it’s avoided causing harm.”

“Causing no- no damage is impossible, but I managed to contain it within-” he wheezes-- “within my- aspect- and not the rest of the Dreaming.”

“I didn’t even know you could bleed,” Hob says faintly. It’s more disconcerting than feeling the world unravel around him to see Dream shaking and coughing up blood. He’s heard that Dream was weakened when he first escaped his long imprisonment, before he’d recovered his tools, but this is on another level.

“Usually, I cannot,” says Dream, which doesn’t help at all.

“Alright, let’s get you down, then.” Hob maneuvers Dream to lie on his side on the ground. Dream rests his head in Hob’s lap, eyelids fluttering. Around them, the world seems to waver, and then stabilizes again.

Dream feels it, too, and says, “Worry not. The realm is stable. It is merely. Reacting to me.”

“My concern’s really you right now, love,” Hob says, running a hand through Dream’s hair. “Though it’s good the place isn’t going to collapse.”

Dream hums at his touch, closing his eyes. His breathing’s evened out, but it doesn’t seem like he’ll be getting back up under his own muster anytime soon.

It’s not long before footsteps crunch in the snow behind them, wingbeats by their side. “My lord!”

“Lucienne.” Dream’s voice is a low rumble against Hob’s thigh. “Matthew.”

“Boss!” Matthew lands on the ground beside them, Lucienne reaching them a few moments after. Matthew’s gaze catches on the blood on Hob’s shirt and he says, “You hurt, Hob?”

Hob shakes his head and nods toward Dream. Matthew squawks in alarm, feathers puffing up, and flies up to land on Dream’s shoulder, nudging at his hair with his beak.

“I am fine, Matthew,” Dream says without opening his eyes. It’s somewhat unconvincing considering how hoarse his voice comes out, and the fact that one of his ears is now bleeding.

Hob is… fairly convinced that he will be fine, once he’s rested. Fairly.

“Just put himself through the ringer, that’s all,” he says, wiping the blood that’s trailing from Dream’s ear away with his sleeve. “We’ll go home, get some food in you, have a nice bath, and get some rest, hm?”

Dream hums in agreement. “Lucienne, how fare the dreams?”

“Everyone is frightened, but safe,” she reports, then adds, sounding fond, “They were a bit confused by the sun going out.”

“Yeah, that was an interesting party trick,” Hob agrees, and Dream chuckles.

It’s still bloody cold out here, post-blizzard. Hob doesn’t trust Dream’s usual I don’t feel temperatures excuse when he’s so drained of power, so ripped apart.

He gathers Dream up in his arms again, wrapping his coat tighter around him. “Let’s get you in from the cold.”

“So… we’re just not gonna talk about that moment when we all went to the shadow realm, then,” Matthew caws as Hob gets to his feet, lifting Dream up with him. “Do I want to know what that was?”

“Probably not,” Hob tells him, as Dream says, “Hob Gadling, I am capable of walking.”

“Uh-huh,” Hob says with no confidence. “Sure, love. Just indulge me. Consider it some kind of foreplay for later, if it makes you feel better.”

Matthew mutters, “Ick,” but Dream smiles and relents.

“Much later,” Hob warns him. “Mister Coughing-Up-Blood.”

Dream rolls his eyes, but allows Hob to carry him.

Fortunately, it’s not far – the Dreaming transports them quickly back to the palace, though with less certainty in the movement than usual. “Lucienne,” Dream says as Hob divests him of his long coat and lays him in his bed. He looks like he’s about to try to pop back up, and Hob presses a hand to his shoulder, subtly keeping him down. “Please instruct everyone to let me know immediately if they find anything awry. The realm is cleansed, but I do not like to take chances.”

She inclines her head in understanding, casting a small smile in Hob’s direction, too, for good measure. Presumably for his efforts in keeping Dream lying down.

Matthew lands on Dream’s knee. “Seriously, boss, you good? I don’t know what was going on exactly, but whatever it was felt… not great.”

“I am ‘good,’” Dream confirms. “Some amount of damage is usually sustained in fighting off an illness, is it not?”

“If that’s how you want to put it,” Matthew says.

“I’ll look after him,” Hob reassures them both.

They take their leave then, Matthew giving Hob a little salute with his wing, and then Hob and Dream are alone. Hob slips Dream’s boots off, laying a blanket over him, then sits beside him on the bed, resting a hand on his chest. “Are you feeling any better?” he asks. “You have to let me know if it gets worse, I’m dead serious, Dream.”

“I’m not certain what weight that carries when you cannot die,” Dream says.

Hob raises an eyebrow. “Try it and find out. Now, still.”

He finds a damp cloth – thanks, Dreaming – and starts wiping the blood from Dream’s lips, and his hands.

“I see now why the Dreaming called you here,” Dream muses. “No one else would dare speak to me in this manner.”

“The Dreaming called me?”

“I did not. Not intentionally. I would not have brought you into such a battle.”

“Well, I wasn’t much help anyway,” Hob observes. He tips Dream’s head up and gets him to drink some water, likewise manifested by the Dreaming. “You did all the work with your world-bending powers.”

“Perhaps you are a reward,” Dream suggests as Hob lets him lie back down. He finds Hob’s hand and kisses his fingertips.

“Oh, yeah? A prize for your heroism?”

Dream tugs on his arm. Hob slips off his own shoes and discards his blood-splattered shirt, and obediently lies down beside him, gathering him in his arms. Dream cuddles up to him, giving a pleased hum, resting his head on Hob’s shoulder. “A comfort.”

Hob runs a hand through his hair and kisses his forehead. He still can't help but worry a bit, after everything he saw Dream do, but it's good to see him feeling more comfortable. “Sweet thing. You were very brave. Clever, too.”

“You do not have to praise me for performing my function,” Dream grumbles.

“Yeah, but you love it.”

Dream mutters again under his breath, but doesn’t move away. Hob squeezes him tighter, and he softens again.

“Get some rest, now,” Hob tells him.

“You will stay?”

“Course. Think I’ll abandon my king in his time of need?”

Dream hums, evidently pleased.

“But am I going to wake up with a terrible hangover after this?” Hob asks. “Whatever the Dreaming did to summon me felt like getting hit over the head with a pickaxe.”

“Maybe,” Dream says, sounding only the slightest bit chagrined about it. “It had to pull you through the barrier I had constructed.”

He tucks his nose against Hob’s throat, snuggling closer, and Hob just sighs, defeated. “Worth it, to be here for you,” he admits, and feels Dream smile.

#it's finishing up almost finished fics week apparently #my writing #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling

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