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qqueenofhades · 8 months

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May I ask about prompts 14 and 38 for Dreamling, perhaps?

Dr. Robert Gadling presently has ninety-nine problems, and students who cannot read the module handbook are, at a minimum, ninety-eight of them. (How did they finish school? Take their GCSEs or A-Levels, any of it, while being functionally illiterate? Etc. etc. dismal condition of British state education and indeed the entire British state under the Tories, but still.) He has just fired off a hopefully polite-sounding group email advising everyone to please have a proper look at the posted content before sending him individual queries, when there's a knock on his door and he glances up, grateful for the distraction. "Yeah?"

"Rob?" It's Philippa, again, which makes his heart sink on reflex. They've already had several serious conversations intended to make him consider the possibility of becoming Head of School when her term's up next May, and -- frankly, over his dead body, which in his case is not at all a metaphor. It turns out, however, that she's not here to harass him to take on more professional responsibility, but rather to attend to his personal life. "Your boyfriend's skulking in the foyer and frightening the freshers again. Make him knock it off."

"My boyfr -- ?" Yeah, yeah, all right, the gentleman doth protest too much. Hob hasn't felt up to taking Dream to any faculty functions just yet, but he did tell Amira the other evening at the welcome-back mixer that he was seeing someone, and the news must have spread as fast as any other juicy department gossip. Hob sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Right. Thanks, Philippa. I'll tell him off."

With that, not sad to get away from the horror of his inbox, Hob pushes back his chair and gets to his feet, trotting out his office door and down the stairs. Even before he descends into sight of the foyer, he can tell where the problem is located. Dream is standing spookily just inside the door, in full goth-black, long-coat, pale-faced, looming-in-your-nightmares splendor, and students are indeed outright sprinting to get past him. Others seem to think he's some weird piece of performance art from the theatre department and are asking for selfies, which makes him stare at them even more. Hob swallows a groan, speeds up, and reaches the ground floor. "Oy," he hisses at the unrepentant King of Dreams. "What are you doing here?"

As per fucking usual, Morpheus haughtily disdains to provide a sensible answer (or indeed, any answer). Hob adores the skinny eldritch weirdo, he really does, but one problem he did not foresee now that they're officially an item is that Dream has gotten downright clingy. After going a hundred years between seeing each other, with each of those meetings usually ending in disaster, Hob's still getting used to the idea of seeing him regularly -- weekly, even. It's not like he minds. Variety is the spice of immortal life, and all that. But it does mean that they need to have a few conversations about boundaries, and this is definitely one of them.

"I'm busy," Hob says, doing his best to sound stern. "I've got work to do, love. Like we do in the human world, eh? Can't all sit around in magical throne rooms, brood, and spin magical stories."

Dream looks miffed at this lightweight estimation of his professional duties. He opens his mouth for some sort of pompous reprimand, but Hob holds up a hand. "Be back at five PM and save me from the emails, and we can jog off together somewhere, all right? But not until then. And stop scaring the students, or Philippa will have my head. Or make me be the Head, and I'm not sure which one's worse."

Dream once more appears about to object -- he still hasn't gotten in a word edgewise, which is probably for the best. But Hob looks furtively in either direction, then kisses Dream on the cheek, spins him around, and propels him out the exit, whereupon he looks very much like an extremely ruffled bird -- raven, probably, which Matthew is bound to find amusing. Mother of God, Hob's life is strange.

Biting a smile despite himself, he trudges back upstairs and dutifully applies himself to the remainder of the paperwork and otherwise makes sure that everything is in order. Then at 5:04pm, he gets up, grabs his things, and heads back downstairs, where Morpheus is waiting for him. "You are," he announces stiffly, "late."

"Only by four minutes. Pretty sure the world won't end." Hob grins crookedly. "Eager to see me, then?"

Morpheus, of course, cannot countenance actually saying this aloud, but it doesn't matter. He holds out his hand, Hob decides he doesn't care who sees him take it, and does so. Then all at once, the familiar surroundings of the Department of History stretch and ripple and fade away, and the next instant, they're not there at all, or London, or Earth. They're here, in Morpheus's home. The Dreaming.

As usual, the place looks eerie, magical, mystical, and lovely, and Hob is getting somewhat more used to the abrupt transition between worlds, so he only swallows hard a few times and then is good to go. They ascend to the castle, he and Lucienne greet each other warmly, and then Morpheus jealously squires him up to his rooms at the top of the tower, beneath the vast dome. The great bed is a temptation, and doubtless they will end up there before too long, but a supper is already laid, glimmering in the fey candles, and Hob blows out a relieved breath. "Could eat an ox. You're a lifesaver, darling."

Morpheus looks the usual blend of awkward and pleased he always does when Hob casually uses endearments or expresses affection. "Does this make up for me alarming your pupils, then?"

"More 'n." Hob sinks into the chair and tries not to wolf down everything in sight. "But still. Don't do it again."

They eat (here in his own realm, in his own stuff, Morpheus eats too). They drink, they talk. It's like old times, and more. Afterward, they go outside to gaze at the stars, a thousand times brighter and more brilliant than anything on Earth, and Morpheus's tousled dark head sinks slowly onto Hob's shoulder, like a feral cat finally becoming close enough with one trusted person to let itself be petted, let itself be loved. Hob bites another smile, this one unspeakably tender, and leans in to kiss Dream's hair. Aye, his life is bloody strange, and it always has been. But he would not trade it for the world.

#anonymous #ask #dreamling #dreamling ff #fic prompts #spooky season

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an-apowell · 7 months

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I created a monster prom mod a while back and wanted to share some of its art.

Next up is OZ! He was the first one I started designing. Their design was going to kick off the rest of them. Their original plan was a bit too noodlely, so taking a step back, I changed the pose, and WOW! They turned out great!

Character design talk:

Their design would kick off the rest of the four, so he had to be solid. Amira's design actually mirrors off of OZ's when I designed her. OZ still has the noodlely sway, but it is more flowing than limp.

OZ has these lines across their body like they are more like a concept than an actual being. I didn't include the little guys at their feet or on their shoulders - I never really liked them... Sorry? Also! Yes, I put them in a dress for an alt outfit, I put Amira in shorts, and I wanted another shirt someplace, so OZ got it and looks cute.

Link to the mod.

#monster prom #monsterprom #monster prom fanart #monster prom oz #monster boy #oz yellow

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cloverthebarbearian · 3 months

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Secret Meetings (P.1)

Uktar x GN!Tav 3,380 words (Suggestive not explicit) (P.2, P.3)

Tav's tongue ran down his exposed skin as far as his clothes allowed, before trailing kisses back up his neck, nibbling his ear as he ran his hand from their hair down their spine. "I wish I could kiss you," Tav sighed. "You know why you can't," Uktar muttered in response, wrapping his hands around the small of their back, pulling them closer. They felt his hands creep under their top, warm and welcome against their bare skin. "What if I promised to keep my eyes closed," they teased, nuzzling their nose against him. He let out a gentle laugh. "Not good enough, Sweetness," Uktar ran his hand up their spine, reveling in the touch of their bodies together.

Dusk was fast approaching, threatening storm clouds of grey and blue rolling across the horizon. The evening air was welcome in the busy streets of Wyrm's Crossing. That crisp and haunting chill of promised rain tickling Tav's skin as they approached Sharess' Caress. The familiar warmth of the brothel greeted them when they opened the front door, heady incense wafting through the air.

"Hello, Darling!" Mamzell Amira strolled elegantly from behind her workspace to give Tav a friendly hug, kissing both cheeks in greeting, "How was the trek today?"

"Nothing special, Mam," Tav removed the cloak draped across their shoulders and handed the Mamzell their outerwear to check in behind the counter, "Looks like a storms approaching. Lots of travelers needing rooms tonight, good for business I bet?"

Amira tutted playfully, "And what better way to shield from a storm than the warm embrace of a beautiful stranger, hm?"

She practically floated as she moved about the lobby, "Same room as always, dear?" she called to Tav while working through the Caress' room keys.

"Yes, Mam," Tav replied, "Everything cleaned and prepped I take it?"

"Of course, darling," Mamzell Amira handed them their room key. Just as Tav was about to take it, the Mamzell yanked it back, eyeing their patron playfully, "You know, I'm rather curious who this mysterious little client of yours is."

Tav rolled their eyes with a grin, "I'm sure you are Mamzell, but I've made it very clear they've requested discretion. You know how many powerful individuals come around here requiring silence, often times for our own safety."

Mamzell Amira pouted, "Oh, I know darling. But I can't help that my mind wanders. They're so mysterious! No one's even caught a glimpse of them, the way they manage to sneak in and out with such ease," she sighed, glancing at Tav again before handing them their key in earnest, "Well, I suppose as long as you feel safe and I get paid, that's all that matters," she waved Tav off nonchalantly, "Have fun, dear."

Tav took the key with a smile, a light blush creeping across their cheeks, "I always do, Mam."

Tav locked the bedroom door after checking the room thoroughly. All their standard requests were abided, as usual. Fresh water, sweet wine, and a small fruit and bread platter set up on the tea table. The inset stone bath was full and warm, their closet stocked with clean robes, fresh clothes, and warm towels. A few simple toys and tools by the bedside, in case the mood struck them.

No poison in the wine, no assassins hiding in any unlit corners. Old habits die hard.

They took a deep breath and unlocked the door to the balcony, leaving it open a crack and placing a small wedge of wood in the frame as a stopper. The wind of the incoming storm brought in a bit of mist and drizzle, and Tav shivered. They turned to the bath and began discarding their clothes, submerging their tired feet into the hot water with a sigh. They walked to the center of the large tub and sat down, curling their knees to their chest and closing their eyes as the hot water soaked into their aching bones.

And now they wait.

The waiting was always hardest. They never knew when he'd arrive. He's never missed a date so far, though there have been times he hadn't shown until the morning sun was already teasing the horizon. Tav's only knowledge he had even come at all from feeling him slip into bed to hold them as they slept, and a note left behind by their pillow when they finally woke.

They watched the steam rise from the tub as they listened to the rain. It was coming down steadier now. Rolling thunder echoed in the distance. They began wondering if he'd show up at all tonight, what with an impending storm fast approaching. This was supposed to be casual, and technically all just business. But they'd be lying if they said their heart didn't sink at the idea of a night without him.

They tipped their head back, submerging themselves completely in the heated pool. Their hair wisped around them as they gazed at the ceiling through the haze of water. The rhythmic thumping of their pulse in their ears acting as a metronome, counting seconds as they waited. Seconds that felt like minutes as they held their breath.

A muffled bump shook them from their trance, bolting upright and cresting the water with a deep breath of cool air. They stared at the balcony door, eyes wide and body crouched as if ready to pounce before registering who was causing the racket.

Uktar stood drenched in the open doorway, the earlier drizzles having turned into torrential downpour. Sheets of rain crashed like waves as he fought with the door against the wind. A comparative silence followed the slamming wood as he stood with his back against the door, chest heaving, head low. He finally glanced up and saw Tav, their head resting on folded arms against the edge of the bath, an amused smile across their face.

The masked man gestured to the door, "Couldn't help me with this then?"

Tav suck into the water, running their fingers along the surface, "I was a bit occupied," they said as they took in the sight of him, stifling a laugh, "Looks like you managed a bath before arriving for a change! I appreciate that."

"Ah Ha. Ha Ha Ha. You're hilarious," his head tilted with a mocking laugh as he shook his hands and removed his boots. He walked to the wardrobe, grabbing a change of clothes and moving behind a divider to change out of his now soaking wet attire. Tav watched with an anxious curiosity as he removed his mask and placed it on a table beside the wardrobe, straining to peak between the cracks of the divider's wooden panels. All in vain, they were already certain, but it didn't stop them from trying.

"You actually showed up fairly early tonight," Tav commented, "Usually I'm here at least an hour before you arrive… Thought you'd choose to wait out the storm or something," they bit their lip as they watched his silhouette.

Uktar draped his wet clothes over the divider, toweling himself off as he spoke, "I knew the rain was coming. Managed to talk my way out of any deals going on too late. Scared folks into thinking the sewers may flood. Gave me plenty of time to haul ass over here," he threw his towel over the divider and it landed on the floor within Tav's reach, "Didn't think I'd get caught in the storm though."

Tav picked up the towel and wrapped it around themselves as they begrudgingly left the warmth of the pool. Uktar was busy tying his hair back up and pulling on a fresh pair of underclothes as Tav approached. They glanced at his mask left laying on the side table, gingerly running their fingers along the cool, glossy porcelain. Still spattered with rain, it seemed like it were made of crystal with the way it twinkled.

They heard Uktar clear his throat loudly from behind them, and Tav swiftly turned their back to the divider. Carefully, they picked the mask up and held it out behind them until they felt it leave their grasp.

"Thank you," his low voice replied. His cadence still perpetually annoyed, but Tav could hear the shame tinged below it all. They gave him a few beats to shroud himself, rocking gently on their heels before glancing over their shoulder.

"May I?" they asked, their eyes still trained on his legs.

"You may, Highness," he said with a tease and an exaggerated bow. Giggling, Tav turned around to face him. He leaned back up, adjusting to finish tying his robe as they looked at him.

Tav walked slow, still wrapped in their towel, running their hands under his arms and around his waist, looking up into the eyes of his mask.

"Hi," they said, coy smile betrayed by the blush on their cheeks.

"Hello, Sweetness," he responded, caressing their head in his hand, stroking down their cheek and pulling them close to his chest. The smell of rose oil and ivory soap from their bath still lingering.

Uktar could feel Tav's damp skin seeping through his fresh clothes, "Could we get you properly toweled off?" He quickly ran his arms up and down their shoulders as he pulled away, turning to grab them another towel.

He draped the fresh towel over their head, running the ends up and over their face, down their cheeks, watching the way they seemed to melt against his touch.

"We need to get you dressed," Uktar muttered as he dried their hair.

"What's the point if I'll be taking it all off in a moment?" Tav teased, loosening the towel tied around their torso, letting it fall to their ankles. They stood damp and bare as Uktar continued to dry their hair, pretending he hadn't even noticed his partner's playful advances.

He took the towel off their head and held it against the small of their back, pulling their naked body into him, "The point's in how much fun it'll be to get you out of them myself."

Tav felt their cheeks flush. They reached their hands up to his neck and pulled him down to meet them. They kissed the cold lips of his mask as if they were truly his, before moving down to his chin and neck. Their skin still warm from the bath, they made sure to hold their lips against him long enough to share their heat.

Uktar dropped the towel he had been using to hold Tav against him and wrapped his hands around their bare back. He relished the softness of their skin, squishing the plush spot where their hips met their thighs, running his fingers down the curves of their ass while they kissed him.

He tasted like he had actually bathed before coming, outside of being caught in the storm. There was a taste of earth from the rainwater, but beneath it was a musk of soap and… aftershave?

Tav pulled back and glanced up at him, "Are you… wearing cologne?" They smiled as their eyebrows twisted, once again trying to stop themselves from laughing.

Uktar gently pushed Tav away from him, "You get mad when I come in smelling like the sewers, are you really gonna give me shit for trying to clean up for a change?" Tav covered their mouth as to not be rude, hiding their smile.

After the first few times they teased him, Uktar had either bathed before arriving or bathed at the Caress when coming straight from the Guild. But this was the first time he seemed to have put on some sort of fragrance oil, and it had caught Tav by surprise.

"No, no, you're right," they tried to calm their giggling, "Its sweet. And preferable. Thank you," They pulled him back into a hug, kissing the exposed skin on his chest that his shirt and robe didn't quite cover. Tav turned and made their way to the wardrobe as Uktar sat in a plush armchair. He took the opportunity of Tav standing behind the divider to lift his mask and expose his lips, picking off grapes and sipping wine as he waited for his partner to dress.

"What would you like me to wear?" Tav called out to him, lilt in their voice sounding coy and seductive.

"Whatever you want, Sweetness," Uktar replied nonchalant, popping another grape in his mouth. Tav groaned. It was so hard getting him to play along sometimes. They threw on undergarments, and settled on a thin, billowing shirt. It reminded them of something Astarion might've worn, though a bit see-through with the light weight fabric.

Seeing no point in wasting time with too much clothing, they cleared their throat before coming out from behind the screen. Uktar took one large sip of wine before lowering his mask again, and Tav gradually slipped their body out into the open.

They ran their finger along the edge of the wooden divider, looking up at the man sitting a few feet away as they took their time approaching. They saw Uktar shift in his seat, gripping the arms of his chair. They could practically feel the way his hungry eyes devoured them, hidden behind his porcelain guise.

Tav reached out for their own glass of wine and drank readily, letting one hand run up Uktar's thigh as they placed their goblet back onto the table.

Immediately, Uktar had their wrist in his hand. Pulling them down to him, he wrapped his arm around their back and practically threw them up onto his lap. Tav laughed at the way he tossed them around, letting their hands settle on his chest as he ran his own hands down their back.

"Sooo… what's on your mind tonight?" Tav asked teasingly. The man beneath them let his grip squeeze into their hips as he subtly rocked himself against them. Tav's mouth opened in a silent moan, smiling and running their hands up to his neck.

"Same as always, gorgeous," Uktar's thumbs pushed into the dips of Tav's hips, where their thighs curved in towards their core, "Let's just see what gets us there."

They let their fingers trace along his neck, the tips of their nails ever so delicately gliding across his skin. He sighed, letting his head rest back against the plush arm chair. He watched as Tav took the opportunity to plant kisses on his neck, running their hands down under the tops of his robes. His chest rose, taking in deep breaths under their touch. Tav could feel the warm air building under his porcelain mask - his breath smelling of wine, mint, and molasses. His hands ran up and down their sides, hips gently pushing up into them. They rolled their own body in response, tracing their tongue along the risen veins against his skin.

Uktar's hand knotted into their hair, holding them steady and forcing them slightly away from him. Not enough to stop their touch, but far enough to make them really have to work to keep their lips and tongue against his skin. They smiled and laughed wantonly, pulling at the collar of his clothes.

They felt the strength of his raw desire in his touch, and the ever stiffening length between his legs. Tav's tongue ran down his exposed skin as far as his clothes allowed, before trailing kisses back up his neck, nibbling his ear as he ran his hand from their hair down their spine.

"I wish I could kiss you," Tav sighed.

"You know why you can't," Uktar muttered in response, wrapping his hands around the small of their back, pulling them closer. They felt his hands creep under their top, warm and welcome against their bare skin.

"What if I promised to keep my eyes closed," they teased, nuzzling their nose against him. He let out a gentle laugh.

"Not good enough, Sweetness," Uktar ran his hand up their spine, reveling in the touch of their bodies together. It was short lived, however, as Tav groaned and pulled back, hands resting on his chest as they propped themselves atop him.

They toyed with the edge of his robes, untying the clasps and running their hands over his plain undershirt. Uktar watched them from beneath his refined veneer. Their hands weakly attempting to undress him, their expression seemingly disinterested now. Or rather... distracted. A slew of emotions were obvious across their face, now clearly frustrated and discouraged.

He removed his hands from Tav's back and ran them over his chest, meeting theirs and resting his hands atop their own. He brought their knuckles up to his masked lips, making Tav smile at his attempted thoughtfulness. He took their hands and moved them again. Letting each of Tav's hands rest on either side of his neck, directing their thumbs under the very edge of his covering.

Tav's heart fluttered, gazing into the doll-like eyes of Uktar's mask. At times, they swear they could see his true eyes peaking beneath, watching them wistfully. Swirls of grey and green. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, of a day they could gaze into his eyes in truth.

He nodded as Tav paused, a small gesture allowing them to continue. They let their thumbs travel the length of his jaw, stilling by his chin. His hands held their wrists loosely, allowing them the freedom to move them as they wished. Tav hesitantly ran their thumb over his chin and across his bottom lip, concealed beneath his veil. Their breathing shuddered in tandem at the tenderness of Tav's soft finger against his dry lips, shocked to feel a ring pierced through the center. Uktar went to lick them instinctively, grazing Tav's thumb in the process, causing them to release a breathy moan.

They dropped their forehead against his own cold ceramic disguise, cupping his head in their hands and kissing his porcelain lips with fervor. Short lived - their kisses slowed to a halt, and Tav's chest eventually started heaving.

They didn't cry. Gods, they couldn't cry in front of him. But the ache in their gut was all consuming. They held their forehead against his, praying he couldn't see the tears building up within them from behind his covered eyes. They managed to turn their growing sorrow into a weak laugh.

"This is torture, you know," they pushed themselves from his chest and off his lap, pacing around the room.

Uktar ran his hands over his mask and slumped into the armchair, "Gods, Tav, not this again."

"No, it's not fair, Uktar! We've been seeing each other for months. We're both involved with the guild now - If I found out you're hiding some sort of 'secret identity' and ratted you out, I'd be killed…"

"And we can't have that," Uktar interjected sarcastically. Tav shot him an annoyed glare, and he responded with an exasperated shrug before pushing himself to his feet, "What do you want me to say, Tav? We've been over this! I just…!" He gestured to himself, frustrated, "I just can't, okay? Can we leave it be?"

Tav folded their arms across their chest, looking away from him to hide the tears they felt creeping up on them once more.

"I'm not going to judge you, you know," they said, quietly, "I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't think you were…" they bit their tongue, careful not to inadvertently say something hurtful, "I wouldn't be scared of you."

The air went silent in the room above the caress. They heard Uktar's heavy footfalls approach cautiously until his presence could be felt behind them. Their breath faltering as they felt his hands running over their shoulders, down their arms, slowly enveloping their folded limbs in his own. They felt the rise and fall of his chest pressed against them as they stood together.

"I know you think that, Tav," he murmured, his chin resting on their shoulder.

"I don't just think that," Tav snapped back in defense, "I'm not heartless. I'm not some kid scared of a boogie-man. Need I remind you what my teammates looked like after eating Ilithid worms? On purpose? Hells, I honestly thought Gale looked better for it," Uktar scoffed as he tried to hide his laughter. Tav leaned their head against his, a hand snaking up around the back of his neck, "Besides… as much as I would love to see you, that's not even what I'm asking," they nudged into the exposed skin at the crook of his neck, "I just… I want to feel you, Uktar."

They felt his body tense at their words, gripping them tighter, humming to himself. Time slowed as he gently rocked his body with theirs, eventually relaxing, running his hands along their arms before releasing them slowly.

"Perhaps," he spoke at first with a small hint of unease. But after a pause, he continued, his tone shifting into something more alluring, shrouded in excitement. Tav turned to look at him curiously.

"Perhaps, we can… compromise."

#uktar #bg3 uktar #uktar bg3 #uktar x tav #uktar x reader #ch2 is nearly done but i realized the whole thing was getting long so i thought why not split it & let us all enjoy a little treat teehee #here you go 3 fellow uktar enjoyers i want him carnally #god as soon as i post this im gonna find 400 typos but rn it looks fine. it looks FINE LETS GO

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ggomos-maribat · 10 months

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The Consequences of Her Visit

Part 3 of Heirs Apparent | AO3

Masterlist

Danny dragged his feet to the kitchen to fetch himself a glass of water. This time, he wasn't deprived of any sleep; he'd snored his way through the entire afternoon after a particularly long morning of attending to kingly duties.

He threaded his fingers through his hair. The day marked four months since he had last heard from his mother. Her last letter had informed him about the situation of the League: the members had split into two main factions, one in support of a new leader and one in support of Talia and Nyssa's current rule. Talia never made her letters lengthy or personal, but Danny found comfort in receiving them. It told him that his mother was at least alive.

The hairs on the back of his head abruptly stood on end when he sensed a presence by the kitchen table.

"Dani, I told you to tell me first before you suddenly drop by," he sighed.

But when he was met with no snark, no reply, he whipped around to see an unexpected guest. "Amira? What are you doing here?"

Marinette gave him a gentle smile. "Sorry, I just . . . I needed to see you. It's been four months."

"Since the letters." Danny moved around the kitchen to prepare hot drinks for the both of them.

"Yeah." Marinette cast her gaze down. "I can't really visit Damian without compromising our identities so I thought I should come to you."

Danny shared her sentiments. He already had half the mind to fly to Paris or Gotham out of paranoia but held back, thinking of it as a reckless move. But he was more than relieved to have his sister visit.

He repeated the words from the last letter. "The League is split into two factions. She's probably occupied with that, right?"

"I imagine she's taking precautions so the other faction cannot trace us."

Excuses to reassure themselves. Danny had already known the fact that death was inevitable for any of them—they were a family of assassins after all. But he didn't know if he'd be able to accept it when it did happen. He swallowed down the bitter lump in his throat. Cross the bridge when you get there. Don't think about that right now.

He took the steaming mugs of coffee, handing Marinette one much to her delight. He wasn't unfamiliar with her addiction to caffeine but he had the same tendencies so he was happy to indulge her.

"Are you sure it's okay for me to stay here?" Marinette shot a wary look at the stairs leading up to the bedrooms.

"Don't worry, Mom and Dad can't be woken up even if there's a ghost and Jazz just pulled an all nighter so she's knocked out," Danny explained and Marinette hummed in reply.

He often wondered if she felt any different shifting into a new family. In his first days with the Fentons, there was a strange feeling accompanied by being the youngest as a transition from being one of a set of triplets.

"Is there anything bothering you?" asked Marinette, sipping on her drink. Translation: has anyone targeted you?

"Nothing really. The usual," he shrugged. "Ember, Technus, Fright Knight. They're minor inconveniences at this point. What about you?"

"Hawkmoth's still Hawkmoth," said Marinette. "But, um, my partner and I are handling things better. We're together now."

Danny made a mental note to arrange a shovel talk later on when he saw a pink blush dusting her cheeks.

"I'm worried about you," he confessed, "I was thinking . . . Rogues will always be in Gotham and ghosts won't cease to exist here but you—you can defeat the villain in your city. There's an end to his reign. If we can help out in uncovering his identity, Paris will be at peace again."

"It's too dangerous. I'm sorry, akhi."

Danny took a sip from his cup. Just like that, his help was turned down.

With his luck, footsteps sounded from the staircase. He scrambled to get Marinette into a hiding place but she was faster, effortlessly slipping inside a cabinet. Danny had just enough time to push back her chair and bring her mug next to his when Jack entered the kitchen.

"Whatcha you doing up, son?" Jack asked. Danny pretended not to notice that his adoptive father was all geared up.

"Can't sleep." Danny forced out a faux smile. "It's nothing bad."

"Why do you have two cups of coffee?"

"Uhmmm, I like to have an extra just in case." He pulled the other mug closer to his.

Thankfully, Jack didn't seem to think twice about it. "Well, your mom and I are driving over to Springfield. One of our ghost sensors went off there and we're gonna test our newest invention!"

"You're going right now? At this hour?" Another ghost-hunting trip. What did he expect?

"Yup!" As if on cue, more footsteps padded down the stairs. Most likely it was Maddie, who was loading their equipment into the truck. "Who knows, we might be able to catch that sneaky Phantom!"

A chill passed over Danny's spine. The fact that Marinette was hearing how obsessed the two were about hunting down Phantom wasn't good. He drummed his fingers nervously on the table. "Doesn't he stay in Amity Park though?"

"You never know." Jack dug into his pocket and handed him a few bills. "Here's a lil' something for you. Get yourself something nice while we're out."

Danny looked down at the allowance left for them. It was barely enough to buy them groceries to last a whole weekend. Jack, as usual, didn't seem to realize this and only ruffled his hair before heading out the front door. In less than a minute, the RV was speeding down the street.

And Marinette was out from her hiding spot.

"Danny, what was that?" He couldn't meet her eyes as she asked the dreaded question.

"What was what?"

"Are your parents always like that?" Her tone was firmer, voice louder.

He didn't answer. Marinette moved closer to him and he knew—he knew—she was analyzing him, watching his every move to read the answer from him. "Danny. Danyal." She clutched the edge of the table. "What was that?"

He had told his siblings about how he came to be a Halfa, but he only mentioned in passing that his parents were hunters. He chose to omit their neglect, and preferred to just live with it. "Jack and Maddie care about catching ghosts more than us," he told his sister quietly, "But they're good people, amira."

"But what he said about Phantom." Venom laced her words. "How can they be so reckless? What about you? You're a good person, don't they see that?"

Danny opened his mouth and clamped it shut. Ancients, what am I supposed to say? 'We're used to it'? He braved a look at her eyes and found them flowing with emotion, perhaps even more than what she could show back in Paris.

"They don't know you're . . ."

"No, they don't."

"But Jazz knows, right?" She took a seat, accepting her cup again.

"Yes, and she's been taking care of me ever since." He reached across to squeeze her hand. "It's okay, we're okay right now. As soon as Jazz finishes college and saves up enough money, we'll be out of this house."

"Why didn't you tell us you've been living like this?" Her face was red, her irises were watery and her fingers shook. Marinette was good at concealing her emotions, but she was better at expressing them at the right times.

"The same reason why we lie about our past," Danny answered solemnly. "You understand that, don't you?"

A harsh glare was directed at him. "Yes, we lie to other people but that doesn't mean you lie to us. No matter what you think of the situation, it's dangerous for you. And don't say you didn't want to worry me and akhi, because we're always worried."

His shoulders sagged. He did want to tell them but only when he had settled on a new life. "I'm sorry."

Marinette heaved out a sigh, and it that second Danny felt like he was the youngest, fresh out of a scolding. She sipped on her coffee to calm herself down, rubbing away the tears from her eyes. "You know akhi will skin you alive, right?"

His lips quirked up into a smile. "It's not like I'm not already half-dead."

"Danyal."

"I know, I know." His smile stretched wider. "Are you going to tell him?"

Marinette huffed. "I should."

"I'll tell him myself. Later today." He downed the last of his coffee, savoring the sweet taste.

"What?"

"You said it's difficult to visit Damian, but it's less risky if it's me. I'll drop by Gotham, check on him, and ask if he's heard anything from the League or Mother," he vowed. "Then I'll come clean."

Marinette's lips curled. ". . . Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'll make it quick and give you an update after." Plus, I can always overshadow akhi if it doesn't go well. Or disappear right away.

----

Danny didn't find his brother in manor, so he opted to track his location to the Botanical Gardens where he saw Damian with Titus. He swiftly checked if he was truly alone before jotting down a coded message on a broad leaf. He dropped the leaf on the page Damian was sketching on, and the latter quickly deemed the coast clear.

"Hey, akhi." Danny carefully sat down beside his brother. The setup and timing were too perfect.

It was almost as if Damian was expecting him.

"Amira told you, didn't she?" Danny said with a wince.

"She concisely summarized what transpired during her visit." Damian paused his sketching, patting Titus' head who seemed to be interested in Danny's presence. "Now explain."

Of course she'd snitch on me, Danny grumbled to himself. But then again, I promised to tell Damian. "It's exactly how it is. My adoptive parents . . . aren't the best parents. Ghost hunting has always been the topmost priority for them and Jazz has been the one taking care of me for as long as I remember."

"Why were you keeping this from us?"

Danny's leg bounced up and down. From their childhood, it was always Damian who asserted his elder position among the three, despite being born only three minutes before Danny. Danny always thought his brother was subconsciously pressured to be the one in charge, along with the obligation of being the League's heir.

"Because . . . it's too messy to deal with it. I don't want court cases linked to us or CPS knocking at our door," Danny replied. "And it's better this way. They don't care too much if I'm out late or missing for a few days. At least Jazz and I have the freedom to deal with our lives, especially ghost-fighting."

Danny looked at his brother. He hadn't torn his gaze away from the page, continuing to draw the pink hydrangeas in front of them. Danny leaned back. "There's also the Guys In White."

"Guys in White?"

"A secret government organization dedicated to eliminating ghosts." The awful memories filled his head one by one. "If Jack and Maddie are out of the picture, they might come for me and Jazz or confiscate their hunting equipment. I don't need more ghosts falling into their hands."

Danny laughed humorlessly. "So I guess our parents' neglect is a double-edged sword in that way."

He felt his eyes shifting in color as he imagined what the GIW could do to them and his subjects. Damian clearly sensed his anxiety as he didn't pry any further about the organization (though Danny knew his akhi would be doing a lot of incognito research later on).

". . . I see," Damian finally uttered after moments in silence.

Danny cocked an eyebrow. "That's it? 'I see'? You're not going to skin me?"

"Tt. I trust that you and Jasmine know what you're doing and I see no need to interfere . . . yet." A scowl flashed on his face. "Also, I refuse to be a victim of your possession again."

Danny blinked. He anticipated blood. A bruise or two at least. But a calm Damian was more terrifying; he took it as a promise that his brother will retaliate if ever anything happens to him under the care of his adoptive parents.

Nonetheless, he was glad he could finally confide in his siblings about his situation and give them more clarity on his double life as a Halfa.

"Overshadowing," Danny corrected, snorting. "That was one time! I didn't know where to hide."

"You made a fool out of me in front of Kent."

"Come on, he totally bought it!"

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#maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #maribat fic #bio dad bruce wayne #danny phantom au #danny phantom crossover #dc x danny phantom x miraculous #dp x dc #heirs apparent #dp x dc x mlb #dc x miraculous

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justagalwhowrites · 10 months

Text

Beskar Doll - Ch. 35: Grogu

The Jedi offers insight into the child - and to you. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-34 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: None. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 3K

“We’re not here to hurt you,” you said quickly.

“Funny way of showing it,” she said. “His blaster is still drawn.”

You strained to turn your head to look at Din but you couldn’t move. You fought the urge to growl in frustration.

“When you put her down, I’ll put away my blaster,” he replied.

“That’s not me,” the Jedi replied.

You relaxed your mind for a moment, reaching for the child’s feelings. He was straining, a little panicky.

“Yeah, it’s the kid,” you said quickly. “On my back, someone needs to get him out of there, he’s running out of steam and he’s going to drop me and hurt himself…”

The Jedi crouched down and you could almost hear the smile in her voice.

“Hi there,” she said.

“He’s why we’re here,” Din said quickly. You felt her pull him out of the pack.

“It’s OK bud, you can let me go,” you said once you knew he was clear. You dropped two feet to the earth, landing with a thud. You groaned before getting up, keeping your eye on the Jedi the whole time. Din moved and put himself between you and her, tucking you safely behind his armored body.

“We’ve been looking for a Jedi to help him,” Din said. “You’re the first we’ve found.”

“The empire wiped out my people much in the same way they wiped out yours,” she said, glancing up at Din before looking back at the baby. “There aren’t many of us left, and none like him. I’ve seen only one other being like him. He, too, was incredibly strong in the force.”

She looked you over.

“Come with me,” she said. “We can talk.”

The Jedi kept ahold of the child as she led you away. It made you nervous, not having him attached to you or the Mandalorian. You guessed it was the same for Din, whose hand went to your back, his fingers splayed wide over you, tension in his grip. You tried to relax your mind, see if you could reach the child. You did, but it was odd. There was another presence there, too.

The Jedi looked over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at you. You closed your mind again, settling for listening to the baby’s small sounds and coos on your walk to make sure he was OK. You followed the Jedi for more than an hour until she seemed satisfied and she sat down on a fallen log, setting the baby beside her. You looked him over quickly and his eyes met yours. You smiled, going into your pocket and pulling out a pack of crackers.

“Always hungry,” you opened them and handed them over. He cooed.

“Do you know you’re doing that?” The Jedi asked you. “Or are you just doing it?”

“Doing what?” You asked, still watching the kid.

“Using the force.”

“What?” You laughed, finally looking at her. She just nodded.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, looking back to the child for a moment before gesturing to the other side of the broken log. You looked to Din before sitting down, the Mandalorian sitting beside you, putting himself between you and the Jedi. “Grogu seems… uncertain of your names.”

You and Din looked at each other before looking back to the Jedi.

“Grogu?” Din asked. The baby turned his head to look at him.

“Yes?” She seemed confused. “That’s his name. Grogu.”

“How do you know that?” You frowned, looking at him. “Are you… can you talk to him?”

She shrugged.

“In a way,” she looked to you. “It’s not that different than what you do with him, actually.”

“And you’re doing that through the force?” You asked. The baby - Grogu - was watching you, his eyes big. You got the feeling of relief, calm. You looked at Din. “I think he likes being able to talk to her…”

“He does,” she nodded. “I’m Ahsoka. Grogu has called you both by a few names. Mando or Din, Amira or Essa or Doll or Cyare?”

“Din.”

“Essa.”

She just nodded.

“Do you think I can have some time with him?” She asked. You and Din looked at each other. You frowned. “Essa, if you want to do what you did with him before, with your mind, but toward me, you can see some of my intent. I promise, I won’t do anything to hurt him.”

The Mandalorian kept a hand firmly on your lower back and you turned toward Ahsoka, closing your eyes and relaxing, trying to open and extend your mind in her direction. It took a moment and it worked.

It was different with Ahsoka. You had the impression that she was letting it happen, and you got more than just feelings, there were some images, too. Her meditating with the baby - Grogu, that was going to take some getting used to - connecting with him in the way Jedi seemed to. You opened your eyes and looked at Din.

“He’ll be OK,” you said, smiling tightly.

“We’ll be close,” Din said, keeping a hand on you as he got to his feet.

You could feel the tension pouring off him as you put some distance between yourselves and the child. You kept looking back over your shoulder, even though you couldn’t see him anymore. Reassuring yourself that you knew where he was, that you could get to him if he needed you.

“Grogu,” you said after a moment, smiling a little.

“Not the name I would have guessed,” Din agreed.

“He felt…” you paused, looking back over your shoulder again. “Good. With her. He felt relieved. Probably that he could actually talk with someone…”

“You’re sure he’s safe with her,” he asked without asking.

You nodded.

“I felt her,” you frowned a little. “It was… I don’t think she could have lied that way. I’m not sure how I know that but I do.”

You found another fallen log, about a click away from where Ahsoka was with Grogu, and you sat down, wrapping your arms around your knees and looking back toward where you’d left them.

“You’re nervous,” Din said, sitting beside you.

“I don’t want to let him go,” you said softly. “And the way he felt… He’s going to want to stay. I don’t see how he couldn’t, not when there’s someone like him and…”

“Cyare.”

He pulled you against him and you rested your head on his chest.

“It will…” he paused. “Work out for the best.”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to not cry. “It will.”

He held you for a while. You took some time to patch each other up after the fight. You tried to avoid thinking about the fact that the child might be leaving you.

“The Jedi,” Din said hesitantly, eventually. “She asked if you knew you were using the force.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, pressing closer to him.

“Are you using it?” He asked. “Are you… like him?”

You frowned.

“I don’t know,” you said. “I don’t think I am. Like him, I mean. I’ve never tried to use the force. I wound’t know where to start. But maybe I am? Maybe it’s like breathing and I don’t think about it, it just happens…”

Din’s arm tightened around you, his body stiff. You frowned, glancing up at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked softly.

“If you are like him,” he asked slowly. “Would you want to stay with her? To learn it?”

“No,” you said immediately.

“Cyare,” he began, but you cut him off.

“No,” you said, more insistently this time. “I told you. I go where you go.”

“Even if he stays?” He asked.

“Even if he stays,” you said. He held you tighter.

You smiled a little.

“I read that the Mandalorians and the Jedi have a history,” you glanced up at him. “If I am like him, would that mean you have to go to war with me?”

He sighed and you could practically hear him roll his eyes at you. It made you laugh a little, the image you had in your mind of a man you’d never seen, just how he reacted to you under his mask.

“Not sure I could beat you if you were a Jedi,” he said. “We fought to a near draw when sparring…”

“Only because you were too afraid of hurting me to actually hit me,” you scoffed. “And you took off your beskar. Even if I were a sorcerer, my magical powers and your armor would even the odds.”

Din said something back but you didn’t hear it. There was a sudden sound inside your head, an odd muting of everything else and then the sound of the Jedi’s voice.

“Come back,” she said. “When you’re ready.”

She left as suddenly as she arrived, your head spinning with the sudden return of the sound of the world around you.

“Cyare?” Din looked at you as you sat up from against his side.

“That was…” you blinked. “Ahsoka just sent me a message. She wants us to come back.”

He just looked at you for a moment before you started your silent walk back to the Jedi and the child.

“I wasn’t sure if you heard me or not,” Ahsoka stood as you approached, smiling slightly. “Or what you might have understood.”

“About as clear as a com link,” you said. “A lot more disorienting, though.”

“I can imagine,” she smiled a little.

You looked to the baby and his eyes met yours. He was content, relaxed. You smiled, sitting back down on your log. Din sat beside you, between you and the Jedi again.

“You were able to talk to him,” you said, keeping your eyes on the baby’s.

“Yes,” she said. “In our way. We can feel each other’s thoughts.”

“What…” Din paused. “What did he say.”

“He told me of his past,” she said. “That he trained at the Jedi temple on Coruscant. When the Empire tried to exterminate the Jedi, he was hidden. His memory is… dark. For a time. Until you.”

He cooed, looking to the Mandalorian.

“He’s clearly kept his ability to use the force,” she said, looking at the child, an impressed look on her face.

“That’s what it’s called?” Din asked. “His powers?”

“The force gives him his power,” she replied. “It’s an energy field created by all living things. It flows through everyone. Some people, with a great deal of training and discipline, are able to wield it.”

“I’ve been trying to help him,” you said, glancing at Ahsoka. “I don’t really know if it’s helping but… My mother, she knew Jedi. She told me some of what they could do…”

“Who was your mother?” She frowned, looking at you.

“A handmaid to Padme Amidala, queen of Naboo,” you replied. Ahsoka smiled.

“I knew your mother,” she said. Your eyes went wide. “Not well but… my master was one of the Jedi who protected Padme. You looked familiar, felt familiar. Now I know why. How is your mother?”

“Dead,” you said quietly. Din took your hand. Ahsoka frowned.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “Grogu showed me some of the work you’ve been doing with him. It’s far from formal Jedi training but…” she shrugged. “It’s helped, I think.”

Ahsoka considered you again.

“So you have no training,” she said. You shook your head. She just nodded.

“Am I…” you held Din’s hand tighter. “Am I like him?”

“No,” she shook her head. “No, you are not nearly as strong in the force as he is. Stronger than most people but not enough to be a Jedi. But you wield it well, for what you can do with it.”

“How?” You asked. “I didn’t even know I was using it until…”

“That’s the case for many like you,” she nodded. “You likely would have lived your whole life not knowing if not for Grogu. He made you more aware of it. It’s the force that lets you feel him the way you do but it’s also the force that made it so you could survive our fight earlier. Apologies for that, by the way.”

“What do you mean?” You frowned.

“You’re an incredibly skilled fighter,” she said. “But to move and decide that quickly? That was the force. Your body used it to keep yourself alive. I’m guessing you’re also an excellent shot? Good at reading people? Understand someone’s motivations before others notice the same things?”

You just nodded.

“That’s the force,” she said. “It amplifies your training. Takes you from being great to being able to survive a duel with a Jedi.”

Grogu cooed at you and you smiled at him.

“I was tasked with taking him to a Jedi,” Din said. You moved closer to him. “Someone who can train him, help him harness his abilities.”

Ahsoka sighed, looking sad for a moment.

“The Jedi order is long dead,” she said. “I can’t…”

“So is the Empire,” Din cut her off. “And it still hunts him.”

“There’s more,” she said, looking down at the child. “The Jedi way requires no attachment of any kind. And Grogu… He’s become immensely attached to you. To both of you.”

You fought the urge to go and scoop him up and hold him close, covering his tiny head in kisses.

“So you cannot train him,” Din said.

“I cannot,” she said. “And even if I could, I don’t know that I’m the right person for the job. He is an extraordinary talent. I’m not sure I could teach him.”

“You would do a better job than I would,” you said quietly. Din looked at you, you could feel his eyes on you through his armor. “What will happen to him when we’re… He’s going to out live us. By so much.”

“He is,” she nodded. “The being like him that I knew before, a powerful Jedi named Yoda, was 900 years old when I knew him.”

“So what then?” You asked. “What if there are no Jedi left? What if he has no one and he can’t…”

You looked back to the child you’d come to think of as your own. You’d never particularly wanted children. When you were a child yourself, it was something that never seemed like it would be a possibility for you. You assumed you’d be dead long before you could ever even consider a child of your own. Your entire adult life had been spent on the run. A child had never even crossed your mind.

And then you met Grogu. Part of it, you were sure, was seeing him with Din. He was an extension of the man you loved so of course you loved him and wanted to call him your own, too. But it went beyond that. You loved seeing the universe through his wide, brown eyes. You loved feeling what he felt, loved the way he cooed, loved how he managed to always get what he wanted - tiny sorcerer powers or no. You’d never wanted anything more than you wanted to call Din and Grogu home.

Thinking about him trying to navigate the galaxy alone after you and Din were gone made your heart ache. He would need everything he could find - every piece of knowledge and skill - so he would be OK. You didn’t want to lose him. You desperately wanted to hold him close for the rest of your life, keep him safe and happy and near. But it wasn’t about what you or the Mandalorian wanted. It was about what was best for him.

“Please,” you said to her. “If you can teach him…”

“I cannot,” she said. “I can tell you ways you can help him but I cannot train him.”

Grogu stretched his arms out toward you. You looked at him. Longing. You smiled a little and got up, scooping him into your arms and he settled there, nestling into you with a contented sigh.

“He’s tired,” you said softly to Din.

“Are there other Jedi?” Din asked. “Others who could train him?”

“No,” Ahsoka said. “I know of some others but… His attachment is too strong. I don’t believe anyone can train him.”

She considered for a moment before picking up a small rock off the ground.

“Grogu,” she said. He cooed. She held up the stone. “Take it.”

He looked up at you.

“Just like we practiced,” you said, holding him. “Go on, you can do it.”

He just looked at you.

“C’mon buddy,” you nodded toward it. “You can do it!”

“Patu.”

Din pulled the silver ball from the Crest from a pocket.

“Here,” he said, holding it up. “Take it.”

That he got, immediately calling the ball to him. You smiled and looked at Ahsoka, who just looked back at you, sadly.

“That is why I cannot train him,” she said. “Attachment is a risk. Attachment means you are open to more pain and the drive to avoid it. I have seen good people fall to the dark side because of love.”

She looked between you and the Mandalorian.

“I can sense the depth of love you share,” she said, looking to you. “If you thought you could save him from pain or suffering or death, is there anything that could stop you?” She looked to the Mandalorian. “Or you? Even more so if it would save Grogu?

“He would do the same for you,” she said. “But with a Jedi, it’s not just your lives and his on the line. It’s the balance of the force. If one Jedi falls to the dark side, it’s a tragedy. If someone as strong as Grogu does… Empires have risen and fallen for less.”

You held him a little tighter to you. He cooed.

“As long as you live, he cannot train as a Jedi,” she said. “But, in a few decades, that might be different. Only time can tell.”

You looked down at the baby in your arms.

“So, he’ll stay with us?” You asked.

Ahsoka half smiled.

“He’ll stay with you.”

#fanfic #mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian

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madame-fear · 4 months

Note

I think about you when I’m in the bath

Who wouldn’t? 🥵

#wanna have ur feet rubbed by me?#┆ ⤿ 💌 come chat with amira .ᐟ ୭ #ask box messages #ask box #ask box open #✧.* amiraverse #lovely anons <3 #unhinged anons

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blurredcolour · 6 months

Text

The Night Moves | Part Three

The Night Moves Masterlist

Alternate Universe

supernatural!Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader; supernatural!Jacob Seresin x Female Reader

Summary: An internship with the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History should have been the highlight of your academic career. The perfect addition to your resume while you worked on your doctoral thesis. An interdepartmental assignment, however, sees your reality ripped apart by incomprehensible forces. Five tumultuous days will leave you forever changed and inextricably linked to two men born centuries apart.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Violence, Blood, Supernatural Themes, Historical Inaccuracies, Institutional Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ Only

Word Count: 4844

-------------------------

-Thursday-

“That’s it. Five-hundred tagged gala favors.” You exhaled in relief, tying the last bow and setting the final pouch into the box with the others.

“Thank fuck, that only took what, two hours?” Amira sighed dramatically, rolling her hazel eyes.

Chuckling softly, you shook your head at your fellow intern’s free use of curse words in the conference room. Granted it was nearly seven-thirty in the evening and the pair of you were probably the last ones in the building. “I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I volunteered to help Resource Development with this Food History Gala.”

“Hopefully the actual event is more exciting than stuffing rare seeds into velvet pouches for the well-heeled attendees.” She grinned, her uniquely asymmetrical face making the expression all the more mischievous.

“Well thanks to your dresses, we actually have a chance of blending in.” You echoed her grin, rising to your feet.

“My impeccable taste saves the day yet again.” She laughed brightly, her salon perfected platinum blonde locks brushing against her jaw as she walked with you. “Hey, my boyfriend and I are going out for Vietnamese, do you want to join us?”

“Oh, I appreciate the offer, really, but tonight I am taking a bath and crawling into bed early for the first time this week.” You shook your head emphatically, flicking off the lights and locking up the room behind you.

“Oh shit, yeah, that is completely fair. I honestly can’t believe you’re still doing this…” She shook her head as you made your way back to your shared workspace.

Shrugging your shoulders, you slid your hands into the pockets of your cozy sweater. “Looks good on the resume, impresses the facility, and RD emphasized the networking opportunities…It’ll be worth it.”

Amira retrieved all but the chosen dresses for tomorrow night’s gala, leaving those hanging in your cubicle to change into after work, while you grabbed your scarf, jacket, and work bag. Parting ways at the staff entrance, she headed for her boyfriend’s waiting Prius while you followed your usual path to the Smithsonian Metro station.

“Good evening, Miss Intern.” His voice cut through the darkness of the Mall and your head snapped in his direction as your feet stuttered to a stop.

Rising from a bench, the bench that you and Bradley had occupied just two nights previous while you awaited your ride, was the blond stranger from the courtyard last night. You watched as he tossed a takeout cup into a nearby garbage can and strode over to you easily.

“Who are you…” You breathed, flooded with a combination of both curiosity and trepidation.

“Lieutenant Jacob Seresin, at your service Miss Intern.” He grinned, teeth glinting sharply in the streetlights. He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a slow, beverage-warmed kiss to your skin before slowly turning your hand in his, eyes falling to your inner wrist intently.

Furrowing your brows, the movement of your muscles slowed by some unseen force, you muttered your name, correcting him reflexively as irritation simmered within you. His eyes flickered to your face, luminated from within by something sinister as he repeated it reverently.

“What divine chance to happen upon you here. Might I tempt you with a stroll through the park?” Jacob asked as he straightened, your hand still ensnared in the dwindling warmth of his.

Your eyes ricocheted from his face to your hand and then out onto the Mall, feeling somewhat reassured by the lingering presence of tourists – it wasn’t that late, not yet eight o’clock. You turned back to eye the lieutenant sceptically, filled with a great deal of uncertainty about his invitation and yet brimming with the desire to know more about him. About why he kept showing up in the most unusual places. Why he kept calling you ‘Miss Intern.’ There was also the fact that your mouth seemed suddenly physically incapable of forming the word ‘no.’ That seemed to be the final deciding factor.

You nodded your agreement wordlessly and he grinned broadly, tucking your arm into his elbow, effortlessly guiding your body closer to his. He struck out along the path, leading you at a confident but leisurely pace. A chill bit at your skin as the night closed in and you wound your wool scarf tighter around your neck with your free hand.

“You are far too lovely to toil in a cruel place such as that.” He commented, glancing at you with a surprisingly tender expression.

“In a place like…the museum?” You tilted you head, finding it difficult, once again, to think clearly in his presence.

“A woman of your calibre ought to be cherished.” He replied and you barely registered that he was leading you away from the more popular attractions and instead guiding you across the Mall towards the temporarily closed Smithsonian Castle. “Treasured. Cared for.”

You scoffed weakly. “I like my job…” Every thought took forever to pass through your mind, as if it were flowing down a river of molasses. “Want to make a career of it…”

“You like the past, do you?” He probed as you passed the Folger Rose Garden, a place so green and cheerful during the day somehow haunting and lifeless after sunset.

As you nodded you were filled with the unsettling sensation that your head was weightless, barely tethered to your shoulders. “I find it fascinating.” You murmured as he turned the corner at the edge of Arts and Industries building, leading you into the dark collection of trees inside the Ripley Garden.

It had been quite sometime since you had passed another person, a fact that your befuddled state prevented you from registering.

“Was it fascinating the other day? Unearthing horrors that one so beautiful as you has no business being exposed to?” He raised an accusatory eyebrow and your throat clenched nervously.

“That was an unusual situa– wait…how did you…” You stumbled to a halt, and he turned back to face you.

“Never mind such vulgarities, pet.” He fairly purred, lifting your hand once again, face partially in shadow. “Please…” Guiding your inner wrist to his lips once more, he repeated his plea from the night before, “let me taste you…”

“What…” Eyes shooting wide, you shook your head, trying desperately to clear it as your pulse leapt at your throat. “Who are you?!” You asked again, voice no more than a thin hiss, trying to claw your way out of the fog that seemed to cloud your mind in his presence.

His green eyes looked up at you through his luscious lashes, glinting dangerously as you felt something sharp pressing against your skin before a searing pain blended with a scorching desire licked up your arm before spreading through your body. The desolate garden echoed with a mixture of moans echoing from each of your throats as you sank back onto a red brick retaining wall, your legs threatening to give out entirely.

Just as you began to struggle to keep your eyes open, overwhelmed by the sensations he was pulling from you, a figure collided with Jacob’s side. You yelped in shocked as his mouth was wrenched from your wrist, revealing to your eyes the welling of bright red blood. Panic rose swiftly within you, and you cast about for something to press against the now freely bleeding wound before your hand brushed against your scarf. Yanking it from your neck you wrapped it around your wrist tightly before turning your attention to the nearby sounds of struggle, blinking at the scene before you blearily.

Grunts and curses intertwined with inhuman snarling as they struggled for dominance on the brick pathway. Though the man initially had the advantage of surprise initially, Jacob rolled and pinned the attacker, striking a few blows to his face before tossing him aside carelessly. The hollow ringing of the lamppost as the man’s body collided with it had you flinching in fear, convinced he had broken his spine, and yet somehow, he was soon struggling back to his feet.

You gasped sharply as in the glow of that streetlamp, the man at last came into focus as one Bradley Bradshaw. At your sound, Jacob appeared momentarily distracted, glancing at you quickly, and Bradley took advantage of that distraction to lunge forward at Jacob once more. They tossed one another into bushes, over benches, and wrestled on the ground once more, the two men seeming a fairly equal match in strength.

A particularly brutal blow to the jaw left Jacob dazed enough to give Bradley the opportunity to reach into the inside pocket of his jacket, producing a long object you couldn’t quite discern at your current distance. That inhuman snarl fell from Jacob’s lips once more, and he shoved Bradley to the ground harshly before taking off in the opposite direction, leaving him laying on the pathway.

Pushing yourself to your feet, intent on making sure he was alright, you were startled when he was quickly at your side. He gently took hold of your forearm, lifting your scarf to take a peek at your wrist before pressing the fabric back down.

“Keep pressure on it.” He murmured, sliding an arm around your waist.

“What the fuck is going on…” You asked shakily, craning your neck to try and look over his face, assess his injuries after his brawl.

“I’ll tell you in the car.”

Bradley half carried you out of there, his arm waist bracing you tightly against his body while constantly reminding you to keep pressure on your wrist. The Bronco was waiting in the drop off zone in front the Castle, four-ways flashing, and you were promptly loaded into the front seat. He even put on your seatbelt, affording you the opportunity to observe the bruises, cuts, and abrasions to his face up close.

“You’re hurt!” You exclaimed lamely.

“I’ll be alright.” He grunted and shut your door carefully before hurrying around to the driver’s side and peeling out aggressively.

You clutched the door handle reflexively before quickly returning your hand back to putting pressure on your wrist before he had a chance to remind you again. “Bradley…”

He exhaled slowly before unlocking his phone handing it to you. “Can you put your address in again?” He licked his lips nervously, thanking you once you had returned it with navigation instructions playing. “I’m going to be as honest with you as I can be, and I apologize in advance for how difficult it may be to believe.”

“Bradley a man who keeps showing up randomly and makes me feel all weird when I’m around him and even though I know better I still follow him into dark places, just bit me…and then he threw you into a lamppost and your spine should be broken but it’s not and you’re going to be alright?!” Your voice took an a rather unattractive shrillness that had even you wincing and you swallowed, taking a slow breath before continuing more calmly. “Try me.”

“That man is a vampire. The sarcophagus opened by the Forensic Anthropology department was previously in the care of a society of individuals who very wisely keep sealed boxes shut because usually they have very bad things inside them. The fire, however, destroyed the box’s home and protector and the geniuses you work for let their curiosity get the best of them.”

Vampire. An undead, nightwalking, blood-sucking, vampire.

It was difficult to pay attention to anything he said after that word left his lips, but his glib insults directed at the Smithsonian institution raised your hackles and drew your focus once again.

“Bad things in boxes are not within the purview of scientific and historical study, Bradley.” You snapped defensively. “That sort of consideration appears nowhere in our standard operating procedures or in the risk/reward equations that are thoroughly considered before discovered remains are examined. Besides the decision was way above my pay grade.” You finished in a bitter mutter feeling suddenly rather culpable for releasing a monster from the eighteenth century into the modern world. The fingers previously holding your ruined scarf tightly to your wound shifting to rub the fabric against your skin as it began to itch a little.

Bradley’s fingers suddenly wrapped around your wrist, halting your movements with a firm yet gentle grip. “I know it’s itchy, that’s a good sign, but try not to scratch.”

You sighed heavily and leaned back into the seat, feeling an awful lot like a scolded child.

“I know you didn’t open the box.” He muttered gruffly, moving his hand to rest on your knee. “But that’s not all it took for him to get up and walk around. He would have gone centuries without blood. Someone had to wake him up.”

Glancing over at him, you watched as the intermittent illumination of oncoming headlights and streetlights highlighted his features, starting to wonder just how he knew so much about all of this when Jacob’s initial tortured, mummified appearance came back to you. “It was deeply unsettling to be in the room with him like that…I tried to convince myself that it was just because of normal desiccation but…” You trailed off.

“He would have suffered as he starved.” Bradley agreed, squeezing your knee. “You weren’t imagining it.”

“I was so freaked out I panic-signed the forms and gave myself a –” The words died on your lips, eyes widening in alarm as those three innocuous seconds; the slicing of your finger, the shaking of your hand, the scatter of blood drops, registered in a new light.

Bradley said your name, tone low and apprehensive. “What did you give yourself? What happened in there?” His grip tightened on your knee, and you tensed.

“Papercut.” You replied meekly, grimacing at he uttered a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“That’s why he’s so obsessed with you.” He turned onto the exit to Ashburn. “He had the tiniest of tastes after hundreds of years and now you’ve become some kind of fixation.”

“So, he’s going to keep following me? Trying to bite me? Because I’m a fucking klutz!?”

“I’ve honestly never seen it before, but it seems that it’s the case, yes.” Bradley replied, pulling up at your building, turning to you at your noise of dismay. “Hey, it’s going to be ok. Come on, let’s get you inside. He cannot enter your home unless you invite him. You must never ever invite him in, no matter how persuasive he is.”

He unbuckled your seatbelt before climbing out of his side, coming around to help you out but you found yourself eyeing him suspiciously. “Bradley…why do you know so much about this?” You looked him over, still seated in the car, before reaching out to grasp his jaw. “You…you’re not like him, are you?” Shifting your thumb to press against the centre of his chin you pushed down, forcing his mouth open to inspect his teeth.

All you saw were two rows of perfectly normal teeth, including average canines, and his lips twitching into a smirk. Releasing his face, you slid from the car warily.

“I am not. Can I prove it to you?” He asked and you nodded slowly, still watching his every move closely. “Let’s head up to your apartment.”

Pulling your keys from your bag, you followed him up the stairs, finding your fingers anything but dextrous as you dropped them twice onto your doormat as you tried to select the right key for your deadbolt. Bradley retrieved them for you the second time and had you to point out the correct key before unlocking the door.

“Have you ever invited me in?” He asked and you shook your head, watching him step over the threshold and into your apartment before turning back to reach a hand out to you.

Hesitating a moment, you considered the facts – he had a suspicious wealth of knowledge about vampires, and yet he had saved your life at least twice now. If he wanted you dead, it would have been quite easy to let the undead lieutenant have his way with you. Swallowing tightly, you set your hand in his, allowing him to guide you into your own home and down the hall toward the bathroom. You were somewhat soothed by the fact that he seemed to be guessing about the direction in which it lay before trying all the light switches until the room was illuminated.

Gesturing for you to sit on the edge of the tub you watched as he opened the medicine cabinet to find some rubbing alcohol and bandages before coming to kneel in front of you and carefully unwrap your scarf from your wrist. You winced, squinting one eye shut as the wool fibres pulled at the barely dried blood but did your best not to complain.

“Sorry.” He muttered, tossing the ruined garment into the garbage can behind him, before sliding you along the porcelain surface towards the tap.

Bradley turned on the water and adjusting the temperature until it was comfortably warm before guiding your arm beneath the stream. You watched as the water sluiced over the patches of dried blood, turning pink as it swirled the drain, revealing two small puncture wounds beside the tendons running up the centre of your wrist. Bradley used the soap from your counter to carefully clean your forearm before patting it dry. He then prepped a cotton swab with some rubbing alcohol and looked up to you from his kneeling position, expression apologetic.

“I’ll try to be quick, but this will sting.”

You nodded in understanding, bracing yourself as he quickly dabbed at each of the marks marring your skin. Tucking your lips under your teeth you swallowed your hiss but still flinched, the reaction involuntary in the face of the brief, stinging pain. Thankfully Bradley was quick, true to his word, and applied a wide bandage with a soothing antibacterial cream. “These heal fairly easily, just remember not to scratch.”

You nodded quickly, watching him stand and dispose of the garbage from his application of first aid. “Thank you.”

“Let’s get some food into you.” He took your hands gently, helping you to your feet and you reached out slowly to brush your fingers along a nasty cut on his cheekbone.

“Let me clean you up first.” You protested quietly. “Least I can do.”

“That’s fine, it’ll heal by tomorrow.” He insisted trying to pull you toward the kitchen, movements somewhat stiff, reminding you of his less than gentle collision with a lamppost.

“Please Bradley, let me look at your back at least…” You insisted stubbornly, stepping around him awkwardly in the limited space to carefully push up his jacket and the shirt beneath.

The ugly black bruise, streaking diagonally across his back, made you exhale shakily. “This has gotta hurt like hell…”

“I’ve had worse…” He rasped bravely and you let out an exasperated huff, rolling your eyes.

“I don’t care if you’ve been hurt worse in the past, you’re hurt badly enough right now. I’ve got bruise cream around here somewhere, can I please put some on this?”

He glanced back at you over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not going to let this go, are you.”

“The chances are slim.” You admitted with a shrug, causing his lips to twitch fondly.

“Fine.” He grumbled, shrugging out of his jacket which you caught, sliding it down his arms and hanging it on the doorknob as he carelessly pulled off his thin black sweater.

You turned back to a very shirtless Bradley Bradshaw, stunned in a stupor for the second time that evening as your eyes traced over the well-defined muscles of his back. He was still tanned from the summer, skin dotted with beauty marks begging to be kissed, and more than a few scars confirming tonight had not been his first fight.

“Cream?” He prompted, voice laced with a blend of cockiness and teasing.

“Right.” You replied quickly and dove into the cupboard beneath the sink, riffling about for your less commonly used first aid supplies, surfacing with the tube of bruise cream.

Taking a fortifying breath, you applied a dollop to your fingertips before dotting it lightly along the bruise down his back. “Please tell me if I’m pressing too hard.” You urged him, waiting for his nod before carefully beginning to rub the cream into his skin.

You took solace in the fact that the tension in his back and shoulders seemed to ease as you worked, turning to wash your hands once the injury was sufficiently covered. “All done. You sure I can’t look at your face?”

He turned and sat on the edge of the tub, the unofficial treatment spot you had recently occupied, his shirt still in his hand, and looked up to you expectantly. “If you must.”

Stepping closer you leaned in to examine his face, washing the cuts and abrasions and applying some cream to the bruises. “Does it at least feel better?”

“Yes.” He admitted grudgingly. “Thank you.” He nodded and you smiled a little, cleaning up as he stood to pull his sweater back on. “Now I’m starving so you must be at the very least vaguely hungry?”

Chuckling softly, you led him to the kitchen, digging around in your cupboards for something simple to make. You glanced at him as he pulled out plates and cutlery, setting the small table in the dining room. “You know you never answered my question…How do –”

“I know so much about all this?” He finished your question for you, eyes focused on setting the forks, knives, and spoons just right. “I come from a family of vampire hunters. My father did this before me, and his father before him. I’ve been assigned to neutralize this threat.”

You brain once again snagged on one word in an explanation he provided and seemed unable to move on. Assigned. “This is your profession.”

“There’s a bit more to it than that. Genetics.” He laughed dryly. “Physical abilities I’ve inherited from my family. Anyone can learn to hunt vampires, but they don’t have the strength, speed, and healing that we do.”

“So, when you do…neutralize…the lieutenant then, you get a new assignment?” You looked back to your cutting board, continuing the bit of chopping before you.

“The lieutenant?” He raised an eyebrow and came over to lean against the counter beside you. “That man is a vampire, nothing more. The person who he was before he was turned was murdered in the process. All that remains is a creature that survives off the blood of its victims. And that creature is obsessed with you.” You swallowed tightly, setting your knife down on the cutting board and looking up at his determined face, an expression you had yet to see him wear. “So yes, once I kill him and neutralize the threat against you and all of Washington, I will get a new assignment and go take care of some other vampire.”

“You kiss all your assignments?” You asked him acidly and though you immediately regretted it, you had no idea how to take it back.

Whirling and stalking over to the stove, you tossed the ingredients from your cutting board into the hot frying pan. The only sound filling the kitchen was the sizzling as they cooked.

“That was unprofessional and I’m sorry.” He muttered after several minutes of awkward silence passed, making you jump slightly and glare back at him. “It was not supposed to happen. You were a lead and I got very,” he sighed heavily, slowly unfurling the fists clenched at his sides “very distracted.”

“Hm. I guess I should apologize too, then.” You replied though your tone was not at all remorseful.

“Don’t bother, you had no idea.” He replied flatly before running a hand through his slightly dishevelled curls. “Look, I get that you are angry. I would love to give you your space, however I think that my target will be back, and I do not feel comfortable leaving you alone.”

Loathe to admit it, Bradley did have a point. The lieutenant, you stubbornly though of him as, had been in your courtyard last night. He knew where you lived, and it would be in your best interest to keep a vampire hunter close at hand just in case. Even if he did seem to have a loose sense of professionalism.

“Good, I made too much food for just me anyway.” You replied and dished equal portions onto the plates he had set on the dining table before turning to get yourself something to drink. “Water?” You offered reaching for a second glass.

“Please.” He replied quietly and you set two full glasses on the table before tucking into your meal.

The pair of you ate in silence, the sound of cutlery on china filling the void, until that began to grate on your nerves too. And your simmering curiosity boiled over. “So, your whole family does this?” You asked quietly, taking a sip of water.

He let out a breath of relief and nodded, swallowing his bite. “My father was born into it, my mom married into it.” At the mention of his mother, he seemed to remember his manners. “Dinner is delicious, thank you for cooking.”

“You’re welcome.” You took another bite, mulling over all that he had shared since he interrupted the lieutenant in the park. “So do you…get to retire or?” He stilled a moment, bite poised just in front of his mouth, and you tensed realizing you had hit a nerve. “Sorry, forget about it.” You added quickly, shoveling the last of your food onto your fork and into your mouth before standing to go fill the sink with water to wash up.

His plate landing on the counter beside you startled you again, driving home just how tired and overwhelmed you were by the events of the last three days. “I’ll wash you dry?” He offered, rolling up his sleeves.

Nodding silently, you stepped aside to let him take over the sink, grabbing a tea towel from where it hung on the oven handle. “Most of us don’t make it to retirement.” He suddenly answered your question and you frowned.

“Bradley, I’m sorry you don’t have to…” You trailed off as he shook his head and set a clean glass in the drain tray. You picked it up to dry as he continued.

“My dad died when I was two, I really don’t remember him other than the stories people tell me about him. My uncle, who’s not really my uncle but might as well be, he’s a hunter too. Was my dad’s best friend and kind of filled in for him. He’s the oldest hunter I’ve ever heard of.” He spoke to the bubbles of dish soap in the sink as he scrubbed the cutlery, the plates, and then the pots and pans. Not once meeting your eyes.

Guilt wrenched at your heart for as hurt as you felt by his earlier revelation about what he was doing in your life, it by no means meant you wished for him to suffer. “Would you ever…want to do something else?” You asked quietly after a few beats of silence.

He looked to you for the first time in a while, face awash in confusion as though he had never once considered anything else. “I have no idea what that would be. I was born for this. Raised for it. My whole community is built around it.” He shrugged. “It is what it is.” He turned back to the frying pan, carefully scrubbing it clean before pulling the plug from the drain.

“Thanks for your help.” You commented lamely. “I’ll make up the pullout couch so you can have the bed…I don’t think you’ll fit on the pullout.” You laughed once, eyeing his height.

He blinked and shook his head. “Oh, I won’t be sleeping tonight. Night is the only time vampires can be up and about. The only time my target is a threat. Would you mind if I made some coffee, though?”

Shaking your head quickly you got him set up for his night watch before a yawn overtook you.

“You should really get some sleep.” He murmured and you swallowed painfully, very much wishing you could read more into his concern for your well being, but painfully aware that was no longer a possibility, what with his renewed sense of professionalism and all.

You should not even want him to care, anyway, not after his duplicitousness. But ‘should’ rarely mattered when feelings were concerned.

“Yeah, I think I will. Good night, Bradley.” You nodded.

“Night.” He offered a thin-lipped smile, and you paused a second, waiting for the addition of ‘sweetheart’ before realizing you were probably not going to hear that from him again.

Turning quickly, you did your utmost to walk calmly down the hall, shutting the door to your bedroom behind you, lest your complete lack of a poker face expose your disappointment.

-------------------------

Read Part Four

The Night Moves Masterlist

Tag list: @moonyinthestars, @roger-that-cap, @gaminffnerd, @blckgrl-sunflower

#top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster x reader #hangman x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin x reader #rooster x you #hangman x you #bradley bradshaw x you #jake seresin x you #bradley rooster rooster x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #vampire au #vampire hunter au

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zorosdimples · 6 days

Note

hello sweet kae!💛 i have a bit of a spiced question about you and zoro! do you share any kinks?

loveliest amira—i come a month late bearing answers, but they’re here at last 💞

zoro and i share many kinks! actually, he loses his virginity to me (not that i’m ridiculously experienced myself when we get together), so we both grow and discover our preferences as a couple. this is a tmi warning ‼️ i go into a bit of detail below.

a big one for us (no pun intended) is our size kink. i hc him as being taller than he is canonically, but even barring an extra few inches, he looms over me! not to mention the fact that he’s big and beefy and boobily—i mean strong! he mandhandles me on a daily basis and it gets us both going… yeahhhh. i’m swooning at the thought.

we both share a spit kink. it’s just something that naturally arises; i think it starts when he spits on my clit the first time he goes down on me. it just spirals from there! he’s nasty. i’m nasty. we’re nasty together!

our scent kink is something we indulge in often. zoro has a deep appreciation of the human body in its natural form: no frills, no shaving, no perfume, etc. he likes the smell of me—raw and unfettered, salt and musk and metal. i think his predilections rub off on me… there’s something about him when he’s sweaty from working out or bloody from battle…

we both have a bit of a breeding kink—but we don’t want kids or care for that side of the coin. it’s more so the possession that goes hand-in-hand with him filling me to the brim and marking me as his own. that and endless creampies <3 we also have a thing for marking, both in a physical sense (scratches and bite marks and hickeys, etc.) and a psychological sense (creampies, etc.)

i won’t get into our less mainstream interests: blood, feet, piss, etc. but they’re there!

#zoro <3 #༄ kae’s mailbox

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lokislittlemidgardian · 2 years

Text

Little scarab (pt 2)

Content - age regression, self conscious reader, soft toys, playroom, colouring in, mommy!layla, daddy!steven, polyamorous relationship, dont like dont read.

Summary - your first time fully regressing in front of your partners.

Authors note - it took me way longer than it should have to write this I'm so sorry!, I used google translate because I don’t speak a word of arabic so i apologise if anything is incorrect. I don't feel like this is my best writing but I just wanted to get it out as soon as possible because I made all of you little scarabs wait so long, I hope you enjoy<3

Translations - princess = amira, honey love = alhubu aleasul, angel = malak

Part one - here

You knew as soon as you woke up that you wouldn’t be able to stop your regression, you were already feeling very hazy.

It had been a few weeks since the night they had found out about your situation, you knew that you were safe to regress with your partners but you still couldn’t help being a little bit nervous about it. Rolling over to look at the clock on your bedside table you saw that it said 9:30am, Steven or mark would have been at work by now.

Marc was fronting last night but he probably would have switched places with Steven this morning for work. They had stayed at your flat last night because you had dragged Layla along to watch love island with you and she had forced Marc to join her for moral support.

Pulling back your duvet and sliding out of your bed you made your way to your wardrobe, opening one of the doors you pulled out one of your hidden away soft toys she was a violet rabbit that your niece Abbey had gifted you when she was younger.

Opening your bedroom door you walked onwards you’re living area spotting Layla pouring herself a cup of ribena. When she heard your feet softly hit the floorboards she instantly looked up at you.

“Hi love” she said cheerily placing the cup on the bench, walking over to you she gave you a kiss on the forehead and a slightly confused look when you didn’t respond.

“Honey, are you alright” she gently said stroking a price of hair out of your eyes and lightly tilting your head up to look at her.

You opened you mouth to reply but you just couldn’t, you knew what you wanted to say but the words just refused to leave your mouth.

Laying your head on her shoulder with a whine you wanted the ground to swallow you whole, that was until you heard her let out a happy gasp. “Am i dealing with a little one?” She asked rocking you back and forth in her embrace “mhm” you mumbled looking up at her.

“Oh honey it’s okay don’t be embarrassed!” She cooed “mommy’s got you sweetie” she said kissing your head. “Mommy?” You gazed up at her shyly "yes my little amira" she said lifting you up and cuddling your body to her chest making you giggle.

"Ahh there's my favourite sound!" She said peppering kisses to your face and hairline. You were revealing in your partners love and affection but you couldn't help but feel like something was missing "when’s daddy coming back?" You whispered into her ear feeling very shy and conflicted in whether or not you were able to call him that.

"Aww darling he still has a few more hours to go but he'll be back before you know it, we just have to get busy!" Walking the two of you out of the kitchen layla made her way to the shelf behind the sofa and picked up your fake plant revealing the key to your playroom.

You let out a very surprised gasp.

"How- how did you?" You stuttered out looking at her in shock "I have my sources alhubu aleasul" she chuckled walking towards the timber door.

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

A few hours had gone by in your playroom and you were having the time of your life. During that time you had given layla a tour and shown her all of your soft toys, so far she had memorised half of their names, she had done some colouring in with you and now you were sitting on a pile of pillows leaning against her shoulder.

She was humming toy a soft tune while you played with the ear of your violet rabbit. Everything was quiet until you heard the front door open.

Stirring lightly in Layla's grasp you tried to make yourself seem bigger to greet whoever it was, but Layla was having none of it.

"Hey baby its okay it's just daddy your okay, relax " she explained pulling you down gently back into her chest. Hearing the door to your playroom creek slightly you tried to hide your face in Layla's curls feeling very shy and self conscious.

"Hello little one" you heard a soft London accent coming closer towards you, at first you were reluctant to look forward but when you realised the calm edge to his voice you realised that you weren't in any kind of trouble.

Steven was sitting cross legged in front of you with a kind smile on his face making you smile back “hi d-Steven” you giggled trying to hide yourself in Layla's hair again “ah ah no need to hide love” Steven said gently taking your hand in his.

“I've got something for you sweetheart” he said pulling something out of his bag and placing it in your hands, it was a soft toy of taweret that they sold at the museum “like mommy’s avatar!” you squealed cuddling her to your chest making layla chuckle “thank you daddy!” you said under your breath testing the waters “your welcome poppet” he said with a warm smile moving to embrace you.

“why don’t you show daddy around malak?” she said giving you a kiss on your hairline “oh yes that would be nice” steven said helping you up off the ground and watching you walk towards a box of soft toys “okay!” you giggled selecting a range of toys to start off with in colour correct order.

finally you were the perfect little family.

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

Taglist @lethalbeautiful @lucielbinon-binary @bootlegmothman420

#daddy!steven grant #mommy!layla #daddy!marc #little!reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #layla el faouly x reader #marc spector #steven grant #layla x reader #layla el faouly #steven x layla #marc x layla #caregiver #sfw age regression #age regression reader #sfw littlespace #moon knight #little scarab au

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kiruamon · 10 months

Text

More cat stuff (+ 1 dog)!

I felt like expanding the idea a little further. So this time we can welcome the rest of the color gang. (For a easier search I tagged the last entry of this AU and this entry as pet au).

Some background information:

Oz lived on the streets, where he accidentally wandered into Damien's fathers' territory. Damien spotted him there and chased him out of the territory, which led to them rushing through half the city with neither of them quite knowing where they were when they stopped. Oz was thankfully able to convince Damien that he would help him get back to his territory if he didn't hurt him in return. Damien reluctantly agreed, and Oz oriented himself based on buildings and other prominent features that had caught his eye during their chase until they actually made it back in one piece.

From then on, Oz would often run into the horned feline when Damien was on a stroll outside of his territory, and over time the two bonded.

Oz had no permanent shelter for a long time. Most of the time he looked for some empty cardboard boxes in dark back alleys for a place to sleep. Never really feeling safe, he often lived in the justified fear of being chased away by someone from his temporary shelter. At least until the day he was found by the Color Gang.

It was a huge shock for him when a gigantic dog suddenly appeared in front of him. Stiff with fear, he couldn't get his feet to move and instead tried to crouch down as small as he could. Maybe the big dog would overlook him?

As the beast grabbed his hackles, Oz was completely sure that his life had now come to an end as a dog's snack! But instead, the strange dog carried him right up in front of the paws of two unfamiliar cats, who visibly eyed him with curiosity.

That day he made new friends in Vicky, Amira, and Brian, who decided on the same day to take Oz to their owner in the hopes that their owner would take him in.

Brian carried Oz to his owner, holding the little kitten by the scruff of his neck, while Amira and Vicky looked at their owner with begging faces like, "Look! Look what we found! Isn't he cute? Can we keep him? Please, please, please!"

Amira then whispered to Oz: "Okay, Oz. Now it's your turn. Remember what Vicky taught you. You can do it, you've been practicing for it, after all."

Despite being rather anxious and having a lot of heart pounding, Oz does his best, looks up and tries to put on his cutest expression, while all he can manage is a tiny mousey mewl from all the pressure.

The owner never stood a chance against all these begging faces. The mission was a complete success!

So Oz is taken in by the owner of his friends and from then on lives with them.

The Color Gangs Owner calls them Blue, Green, Red and Yellow. Yellow for Oz since the little guy had a yellow ribbon entangled around his neck, when he was brought to him. He soon replaced it with a yellow collar.

Having a warm and most of all safe home is a whole new experience for Oz, which he fully enjoys.

Group picture! Whereby Amira's design here still represents the first version, which I changed later.

Once Oz got used to Brian - and the fact that he wouldn't eat him - he started to appreciate the presence of the extremely friendly and calm dog.

Brian, on the other hand, isn't feeling bothered by Oz's clinginess. On the contrary. He, too, has certainly taken a liking to their newest group member.

Napping time is always a good time.

Brian often makes a bit of a mess when he eats, as he can't stop some of the food from falling out of the gap in his muzzle.

The owner has therefore placed a mat under the food bowls to make it easier to sweep up the leftovers.

The old Amira design. I changed it, because it thought it looked to much like a fakemon.:'3

So I settled with this design instead.

Amira plays with Vicky and Oz from time to time, although she is not always in the mood to amuse them and is quicker to make it clear when she wants to be left alone. She is often outside the house to hunt and allows Oz to accompany her every now and then if he shows interest. When she gets angry, her fire burns even stronger and hotter. In that case it can happen that her fire, which otherwise isn't a threat, becomes dangerous. For such emergencies, the owner has placed fire extinguishers in every room as well as sprinklers.

Oz really likes the warm and pretty looking little amber sparks and tries sometimes to catch one.

Vicky was immediately overjoyed to welcome her new family member. She is full of energy and outright curious. She invites Oz on every adventure, no matter how small it is. Vicky is definitely happy to have a playmate who has a similar size and can often be seen bouncing around with Oz. Despite her peppy nature, she is very good at sensing when Oz needs a break and giving him time to rest. She has been the one who has shown Oz everything in his new home. From the place with the food bowls to her favorite places to play and more.

When she is very excited, it sometimes happens that she gives out small electric shocks. In addition to that, her fur charges quickly when she walks on carpets or is petted for a while and then also gives out very light electric shocks again when touched. She has a habit of licking at electrical outlets to give her body new energy. Her owner had to give up trying to stop her from doing this if he doesn't want to replace chewed through wires every few days instead.

Cat pile!

An empty box! There is no better toy!

When nervous or frightened, Oz tends to sink into shadows to the shock of his new owner.

For Damien it was a big surprise to find out that his friend suddenly lives with a human as his house cat. And then also in the company of other animals! Damien felt betrayed at the sight of the warmly lit living room and Oz's carefree playing when watching the smaller one through the window.

When Oz noticed him and jumped onto the windowsill to suddenly be shouted at by Damien before his friend turning away from him, Oz no longer understood the world.

Although Oz didn't have a chip for the cat flap at this point due to an upcoming visit to the vet. He still found a way out to follow Damien thanks to his shadow ability. He had quite a bit of trouble following the angry cat, who no longer wanted anything to do with him.

Oz called desperately several times after Damien until the other finally stopped. When Damien turned around furiously and was ready to make clear, even with claws if necessary, that Oz should leave him the hell alone, his anger fizzled out at Oz's trembling figure and tear-stained face.

In the end, Damien realized that he was the one who had overreacted. That he wasn't really angry that Oz had found a home for himself. But that he had simply been jealous to see him with others. And that his initial concern that something had happened to Oz when he had not found him in the usual places had turned to anger because he thought Oz had now replaced him and no longer needed him.

After talking things out, and as soon as Oz was finally officially allowed to leave the house as well, Damien felt much more at ease. Oz enjoys his walks and hang-outs with Damien and is also more than happy that there are no more misunderstandings between them. Apart from that, Oz doesn't hide his affection for Damien and shows him at every possible opportunity how much he likes him.

Oz will bring Damien his favourite mouse toy as a present to show him his affection. It's very effective.

Damien brought Oz a death bird the next day. Oz wasn't so sure what to do with it but was happy none the less.

Damien doesn't know how to retract his claws. But he always goes sure to not hurt Oz. Oz on the other paw trusts Damien completely even if it makes him all flustered when Damien is being suddenly more cuddly with him. (But he also reeeeeally likes it. So Oz doesn't complain about it.)

Oz looking all dreamy at Damien, some nose nuzzling and having a stroll together through the town.

Maybe there will come more? No promises though.:')

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