#when found family <33333

[x-reader-things]

“You’re our son—” (Spider-Man AU - part 3)

Part One ; Part Two

Ezra Bridger x gn!Reader

Summary ; In which Hera tells you both the plan of action.

Requested? ; No! Part three of the AU that I talked about in my last post- :DDD

Warnings ; mention of Kanan’s master Depa Billaba getting killed. Also not much of a warning, but found family things w / Hera, specifically- <33333

Word Count ; 1.3k

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The explanation was small, and straight to the point. After a couple years of living with the Ghost Crew, Ezra figured out that long winded explanations wasn’t the best route to go down when talking with Hera.

He and Kanan heard from police scanners that ‘The Inquisitor’ was at it again, terrorizing others on a subway train for whatever cause he was trying to pull them into (something something ‘Empire’ or whatever. Ezra didn’t pay too much attention). The both of them swung their way over, got to the subway station just before the train went off on its way, and swung in just in time.

And just before the police got to them too, thankfully. They really don’t appreciate a vigilante when they see one. Luckily, Hera had some pull to help them out of trouble.

While Kanan was busy getting citizens in the subway car, Ezra was busy fighting ‘The Inquisitor’ on his own for the first time.

Bad decision, because he ended up getting thrown onto one of the seats, and his mask got ripped off, which revealed his identity to the ‘Big Bad’ he was fighting. Not that The Inquisitor knew his name, but he definitely knew his face now.

And now yours, too.

Because you were right there, unbeknownst to both heroes and the villain. Hidden in that corner, shielding yourself and your groceries with only your school bag. And you visibly and verbally reacted when you saw what happened.

It doesn’t even take an idiot to realize that you knew who Ezra was once the mask was taken off. Especially when said idiot was The Inquisitor. Which was a no bueno with Kanan and his rules.

After all, he lost his teacher - the only motherly and parental figure he had - Depa Billaba, because something similar happened to him years ago. He never really explained what happened to Ezra. All Ezra knew was that a lot of people were killed that day because of it. Including her.

Kanan could never live it down in the slightest, because of that. He wanted Ezra to always be careful with his mask when going out in the city as another Spider-Man, just in case.

Which, in turn, probably made this situation a lot worse, the more Ezra thought about it.

Hera hummed, mouth pressing into a thin line once Ezra finished his explanation. “Ok… that makes this, well, a little bit more difficult than I thought.”, she said thoughtfully.

She placed the warm ceramic cup down onto the table, and sat up fully. “But, that doesn’t mean this can’t be fixed.”

“Y/n”, she said, turning to you. “You’re gonna have to lay low here for a little while, ok?”

“Wait - what?”, you furrowed your brows, looking at all the grocery bags on the table in front of you. “What about these? Or - or my parents? Or school??”

“We‘ll have that covered, kiddo, don’t worry.”, she smiled at you. “I’ll have Sabine and Zeb drop them off later on today, and we can call up your parents to explain the situation. I work as a consultant for the police, and this house is a designated safe house just in case for situations like these. We have a guest room you can stay inc and You and Ezra can still go to school. You just have to be driven there instead.”

“But the—“ Hera cut you off again.

“I know, I know, the traffic sucks.”, she pointed a thumb to the rooms behind her. “Kanan and I know our way around the city on the roads. So does Sabine, if we can’t drive you guys. It’ll be fine.”

The smile she gave you was one full of sincerity and hope. It was… oddly calming, to say the least. Then again, she always had that effect on you. And Ezra (not that he would ever admit that to Hera herself though. You, however, are a different story).

You took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. It calms you down, before the rush-in of loud thoughts could make their way into your head again. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.

You’ve had sleepovers there before, anyways. It’ll be just like those. Just… a really long winded one, until The Inquisitor is off your’s and Ezra’s tail.

“As for you, Ezra Bridger”, Hera continued once again, her voice taking on a sterner lilt. “No going out as Spider-Man with Kanan for a while. Not until we have the situation with The Inquisitor under control, alright? Do you understand me?”

“What?”, now it was his turn to question the decision made. “Oh, c’mon Hera, it was one slip-up—“

“One slip-up that could easily get you and your best friend either hurt or in danger, or - hell - even both”, she told him, gesturing to the both of you. Her tone grew more serious, more urgent the more she went on. “Kanan and I aren’t willing to risk it, Ezra. Your our son—“

Ezra’s eyes subtly went wider. The amount of conviction in Hera’s voice struck a chord in him, one that he sometimes forgets he has.

Family.

The concept is still so new to him, even if it’s been a few years.

“—much like how Sabine’s our daughter. And Y/n may not be apart of this family, but we care about them just as much as you do. We need you both to be safe. This is the best course of action we’re able to do right now, alright?”

Ezra sighed, shoulders visibly deflating. Hera was right; you both knew that. It was the best course of action, and there wasn’t much either of you could say about it. Not right now, at least.

And it’s not like he minded being out on house arrest either. Especially if it was with you. It could be fun, if things went smooth enough.

Hopefully.

“Alright”, he agreed, albeit a hint of reluctance still hung on to the edge of his words. “If this is the best course of action to keep us safe then… I guess it’s fine. Right?”

He looked to you.

“Right.”, You gave a reassuring nod, brows furrowing upwards afterward for a moment in a silent question. He nodded back at you, reassurance there and clear as day for you this time.

Hera’s face softened up, a small and relieved smile turning the corners of her mouth up. “Good. It’s settled then. I’ll go get Sabine and Zeb to grab the groceries and bring them to your parents, Y/n. In the meantime… think about dinner.”

She stood up from her seat, bringing the cup of coffee with her. “Usually it would be my turn to choose what to have tonight, but I’ll leave that decision with you”, she raised her cup in your direction. “After all, it was this bucket-heads fault for getting your into this mess.”

She lightly flicked Ezra’s ear. He let out an indignant noise, and brought a hand up to his ear, staring at Hera with a look of utter betrayal.

“Hey!”, he exclaimed, pouting a little bit. “What was that for?”

“You know why, Ezra.”, Hera gave him a pointed look, and turned back towards the kitchen. On her way, she glanced back at you again. “Think about what you want for dinner, sweetie. It can be anything you want.”

You smiled brightly at the thought. Hera chuckled fondly at the sight, and opened the door to the kitchen, closing it behind her once she stepped over the threshold.

Ezra slowly turned back to you, his hand still rubbing his ear. Flick or not. Hera’s strength stung.

“Soo… what’re you thinking about for dinner?”, he asked you. The casualness of it all made you both fall right back into the usual comfortability, as if nothing big happened between you two, or the family in the house you were in.

The bright smile you had stayed clear as day, only enhanced by the setting sun blaring through the blinds behind you.

“How does Chinese food sound?”, you asked, leaning your forearms against the table.

Ezra always thought sunsets were beautiful. This one was just as lovely.

“Sounds perfect.”

His own smile radiated back at you, like the glare of the moon reflected back to the sun.

[hoshigray]

i fucking love ur writing sm mamas!

anyway. Toji making reader pregnant cause toji found out that reader loves kids <33333

It’s fine if you don’t want to. Anyway love you and your writing darling . 🎐

No, noonie, stop bc like, are you in my brain or smthn!!?? I was thinking about this exact prompt for a long while, and I see this appear in my inbox??! Well, well, *cracks knuckles* you've just given me the perfect opportunity mwahahahaha!!! This has been in my drafts for a minute, but I'm glad it's finally done! And omg tysm for loving me and my stuff, honey!! Hope I make ya proud with this one :') ilysm ♡

Also, I'm mixing in another request into this one since it's a pretty small request (reader sucking on Toji's Adam's apple as he pounds you), plus it makes things easier for me in terms of writing out stuff. Hope that's okay with the other requester; if not, my apologies!ヾ(｡﹏｡)ﾉﾞAnd btw, tysm for 1.6k followers, y'all!! Love every single one of you~☆

Cw: Toji x fem! reader - explicit content, so minors DNI - mating press - Daddy kink - fingering (f! receiving) - breeding - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up!!) - reader skips the pill - fluff at the end bc why not - pregnancy (test at the end) - pet names (angel, baby, darlin', good girl, mama, sweetie) - oral fixation/reader sucking on Toji's adam's apple - the reader has stretch marks on their body bc I said so - praise - overstimulation - clitoral play (sucking & swiping). Wc: 3.4k

Toji, by all means, was not a man deserving of children.

His terrible childhood and upbringing have molded him into an emotionless and reserved person who only feels as though the only person he needs to look out for and care for is himself.

So when the premise of children came to him, he wouldn't give it the time of day. That is until he ends up having youths of his own. Even then, he would do the bare minimum of taking care of them — food, clothes, shelter, and taking or picking them up from school. And to top it off, his job wasn't befitting of a father — a hitman going mission to mission for money that he used to spend for himself, now going to the needs of his kids.

Toji knew Tsumiki and Megumi were better off without a father like him. Fatherhood (or children in general, for that matter) is no easy task, and it's clearly one he's not good at.

But all that changed when you came into the picture.

Never had he seen his kids warm up to someone, an outsider, so quick. Even when he mentioned his children to you at the beginning of your relationship, you didn't falter and happily wished to meet them. And the day you finally did was the day everything became a lot brighter for the entire Fushiguro family.

Not only did Tsumiki and Megumi come to trust you with every visit, but their adoration for you grew tenfold the more you were involved in their lives. And all Toji could do was watch you do your magic, whether it be watching animal documentaries with Megumi, making flower crowns with Tsumiki, or playing with them and the other kids at the nearby park.

And the most impressive part about it all was you teaching and including him in how he could get more involved with his youngsters. Now, his kids are closer to him than ever, going so far as Megumi clapping back on his father's snarky comments and Tsumiki having the man play tea parties (to his dismay, but whatever to makes his little girl happy).

It wouldn't have been possible if he hadn't had you around. You were just such a breath of fresh air to him and any child that came your way. Attentive and caring to the young ones as if you were a natural at mimicking the maternal role. He knew you'd be a great mother to any child, especially your own.

It was that thought alone that made Toji think about you having children. Or better yet, having a child with him. Making you pregnant with his baby. Making you his.

Toji walks down the stairs after putting his son and daughter to bed, his heavy footsteps beating the wooden floor beneath him with every step. He then enters the kitchen area, where he sees you washing the dishes from today's dinner after putting the food in the fridge.

When you notice his presence, you look up and offer a charming smile in his direction, your face illuminated beautifully by the ceiling kitchen lights that the image almost blinds him.

"Hey there." Your voice is always sweet to his ears, still smiling even when you turn back to washing dishes. "The kids?"

"Just finished puttin' 'em to bed," your eyes stay at the sink, but you can feel his heavy footsteps come from beside you. "But they said I suck at tellin' bedtime stories."

Your giggle is heard through the noise of dishes clacking on the rack. "Well, maybe you're not using cartoon voices like I told you to. They like it."

"Yeah, no, I'm not doin' that shit." You chuckle some more at his complaint, and he grabs a dry cloth to dry up dishes from the rack.

It's quiet between you, but Toji will sneak glances at you while you work through the dirty plates. His thoughts from before return, and all he can think about is you with a swollen belly.

The mere idea of having you bear his child fogs his brain. Witnessing your body change and expand with the growth of your little one within you, it's too much for his mind to indulge in.

The more he thinks about it, the crazier and hornier his mind goes. Unable to function suitably, Toji sighs heavily through his nose and places the dish and dry cloth on the countertop.

You notice him make his way behind you, his hands traveling down to your hips as his chin rests atop your head. But you pay him no mind and continue with your task. "Hey, darlin'."

The nickname has you hum to him, eyes focused on the soapy sponge and plate in your hands while your ears wait for him to continue. "Yes, Toji?"

He doesn't reply instantly, roaming his large palms up and down your waist and hips instead. "Ya know I love the hell outta you, right?" He goes on when you nod. "Always takin' care of me and lovin' me. But that love also goes to my lil squirts." A smile creeps in on his scarred lips as you giggle at his way of referring to his children. "It's just crazy to me how you're able to have 'em follow y'r every step, yet I can't even get a hug or smile before they leave for school unless I remind them."

"Well, maybe if their father didn't always bully and call them 'squirts' and 'brats' all day, they would show you some love."

"Shut up," Toji flicks water from the faucet onto your face, forcing you to laugh more from your teasing. His heart swoons from your laughter, having you sway side to side with his body behind you. "But I mean it; you're so good with kids. Makes me wonder how come you never had y'r own yet."

"I just love kids." It was a simple answer. "Plus, I never really had time to care for a child. Got work and stuff, you know. And besides, I practically treat Tsumiki and Megumi like my kids."

"Mmm," he replies aimlessly.

"However," you resume while placing a wet bowl on the rack. "I wouldn't mind having a little one of my own. Now that I'm pretty comfortable with where I'm at in life, I'd love to have a little baby to share it with."

Toji lets your words sink in before saying anything. Now that he sees where you stand on the topic, finally, he can voice his opinion.

"Y/n..." he treads carefully with the words he's about to say. "I've been thinkin' about somethin'."

"Thinking about what?" You can't deny the uneasy atmosphere with Toji's mysteriousness, yet you listen as you turn off the sink faucet.

The two of you stop swaying your bodies with each other. "How 'bout we have a baby?"

Your body goes rigid at the question, and breathing subsides as your mind goes rampant with reflections too fast to comprehend. He wants a child—another child!? With me??!

"Like, right now?" The only question that escaped your lips, your voice hushed to a whisper. No one else is here in the space but you two, although the talk you're having right now feels virtually forbidden to the tongue.

"Doesn't have to be right now," Toji moves his head to your shoulder, his hushed, gruff voice clear to your ears. "But as long as it's with you, one more kid won't hurt, right?"

And your breath hitches when a hand finds its way to the surface of your stomach, his fingers lightly teasing with the flesh of your abdomen. He places his lips on your neck, and you bite your bottom lip to repress a whimper. "Mmmm, why do you want more?" You still press him with questions despite almost dissolving into his kisses. "You already have a gorgeous girl—"

"I wan' have your girl." He murmurs softly to your ear before lightly biting the lobe, and a moan slips past you.

"A-And...a beautiful boy..."

"I want your boy."

"Toji, please," you surprise the older man by turning your body to face him fully, eyes surveying his. "This is no joke! Just because I don't have my own kid doesn't mean—"

You're silenced when Toji brings a hand to your cheek, cupping a side of your face. "I'm not jokin', sweetie. I know I'm not the best dad in the world — hell, I'm pretty lousy at it. But you," he leans forward while you instinctively go backward, hitting the sink behind you. "You're basically a mother to mine and a real damn good one, too. And since ya said things are good now, why don't I make you a parent fr' real."

"Toji—"

"Like I said: it doesn't have to be today or tomorrow. But as long as it's you," his thumb brushes your cheek as he looks deep into your eyes. "Let me give ya a baby, angel."

All you can do is look into his emerald orbs that examine you for a response. The silence between you two is accompanied by the ticking sounds of the clock on the kitchen wall. And after a few seconds, you sigh and place a hand on the big one caressing your cheek.

"If I say yes," your reply has his brows lifted. "Will you give me foot massages and a bowl of ramen at three in the morning and not be a bitch about it when I ask?"

Toji gives you a smile, his scarred lip tugged upwards. And you return one to him as he kisses your forehead.

"Works fr' me."

This is how the two of you end up in the bedroom; the ceiling lights toned down to a low shade, clothes discarded on the cold wooden floor, and the sound of lips smacking fills the silence.

"Mmmm, Daddy..." You whimper through the kisses, your hands find purchase on his strong shoulders, and you yelp when he bites your lip. His lips gradually embark downwards to your neck clavicle. Kisses and light suck to your nipples make you hum in pleasure, and a gasp prompts out when his teeth graze the bud of your soft mounds.

A hand sneaks between your legs and nestles in between the lips of your southern entrance, his big fingers enter inside with the use of the soapy fluid of your cunt, and you wail from the contact while he sucks on your breast.

"Such a good girl, angel." He lets go of your nipple to coax you, his mouth sucking your skin as his mouth continues its journey south. More licks on your body feel hot, kisses placed on every stretch mark he comes across. And he stops when he passes your tummy, coming up to see the view of his digits pushing to and fro inside your leaking chasm. "My fingers feelin' good, mama?"

"Yesssss," you hiss, eyes sewn shut to concentrate on the pleasurable sensation in your slit. He chuckles at your delighted expression before he leans down to suck on your clit, earning a shriek from your puffy lips. "Stoooop, I-I'm too sensitive—Ahhaaaannn!!"

He releases your tender bud from his mouth after placing a chaste kiss on it. "Sorry, baby, gotta have you nice and wet fr' me." He sucks and laps around on your wetness for a few more minutes before withdrawing his mouth from your leaky chasm, substituting his tongue with his big fingers to swipe on your clitoris. Broken sobs seep out from you. "Cummin' on my fingers and tongue, that's my girl."

The throbbing commotion between your legs has your ears ringing and your head pulsing. You've already come three times for thirty minutes. He's such a greedy man, but whatever it takes for you to prep for him.

Speaking of which, Toji props your legs onto his shoulders while aligning his cock to your folds, lathering the girth with your juices. Your heart beats irregularly with anticipation on the rise, a position you're all too familiar with. Toji sees you gawking at his glans kissing your folds, and he sneers salaciously. "Ready, sweetie?"

You give him a smile even through entering your lustful haze. "Skipped the pill and everything, Daddy." And with a kiss on your cheek, Toji wastes no time and pushes his length into you with every inhale you take. And the both of you moan when the cockhead slides right into your vulva. Every inch of his dick descends into you, making you full of his size, and whimpers fail to be suppressed as he scrapes your velvety walls deliciously.

After letting you adapt to him, his hips start with a slow rhythm for you to properly situate yourself with the mating press. However, with how you're gripping around him, it doesn't take long for him to quicken his pace. Soft wails soon become stifled squeals with the bite of your lips from the growing cadence, and your eyes begin to water when the underside of his shaft grazes your inner walls.

But when the tip of his cock finally touches your cervix, a choked scream sneaks past your restraint. And Toji chortles. "Mmmmm, that's what I wanna hear." He grinds his pelvis deep into your cunt, resulting in forced squeaks from your tongue.

"Ahhhnnn! Daddy, please—Oh, Jesus," It hurts to think when Toji accurately jabs your delicate cervix, tears streaming down your pretty cheeks. "Oh, God, it's too much, too mu—Oooohh!!"

"I know, darlin', I know." He comes down to your face, yet his pace does not falter. His speed increases and becomes harsher by the second, and your head pounds hard with every rut. You nibble on his neck, sucking on his Adam's apple as he drills his dick into you. "Nnnngh, so tight on me, mama. Gonna make me go crazy."

As if he wasn't going crazier already with the erratic rut of his hips. Driving his cock deep inside and the sound of his balls smacking your folds is all you can hear. Your face is now entirely hot, matching the tingling sensation of skin slapped together between your legs. You dare to peek down to see the union of your sexes, Toji's member now harboring a white ring near the base. Strings of your slick and his spit keep you two connected during this moment, and more incoherent shrieks are pulled from your throat.

"Nnnaaaaa, ahhhaaaa!!! D-Daddy, please!!" While there's uncertainty about whether your pleas will be heard, you still express yourself to him. "It's coming, it's coming! I'm gonna cum, gonna cummmm!! Nnnmmph!!" And when he comes down to you with his complete weight caging you in, the pressure of his body has you submit to him completely.

"Yeah, wanna cum on Daddy's dick." He says with his condescending, guttural tone that almost makes you melt onto the satin sheets beneath you. "G' ahead, mama—Hmmph! Make a nice mess while I finish here..." His strokes become ever intenser than before; his length brushes your inner walls, and continuous pokes to your cervix prompt your orgasm to climb faster. And you soon fall into a wave of pure ecstasy, your cunt clamping around him desperately while your body trembles.

And Toji is forced to fall into a release of his own when the walls of your slit contract around him, spilling into you with the flex of his abdomen. His sweaty body is on top of yours, and your breathing matches his as you two experience each crescendo.

Heavy exhales sync as you two calm down within your intimate embrace. Your mind slowly returns from its foggy state with the calm atmosphere soothing your body, and your quivers now subsided while the older man lays kisses and sucks on your neck. But it comes to a halt when a sudden yelp comes from your swollen lips because he thrusts into you again, even with your vulva being extremely sensitive.

He lifts his head from the crook of your neck, and it's not to your surprise that he has a smirk on that dumb, handsome face of his. His lips curled to where his teeth peek from under his scar. "Ya know I gotta fuck you more than once, right, sweetie? Make sure you're all filled up 'n all."

You suck your teeth with furrowed brows, but a smile comes up with breathless giggles. "I'm telling you, Mr. Fushiguro, you're most definitely treating me to daily foot massages when I get pregnant."

"Whatever you say," he shuts your threats with a kiss on your soft lips. "My pretty darlin'..."

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Toji twiddles with something in his hand while you lay on his chest in the shared bedroom. The kids were taking a nap after coming from school, leaving the two of you to enjoy the leisure of each other's company.

But today was a different day compared to any other. Because even if you two are looking at the television with the old rom-com displayed, neither of you is actually watching. Too busy distracted with the smiles plastered on your faces to care for what's on the screen. The only thing corrupting your minds is a matter that has you two in glee after a week of anticipation and mutual work.

The man peers at his hand to look at the object between Toji's fingers. Nothing but a pink and white stick — a pregnancy test. And at the center of the device conveyed two red lines, the signature implication that you were indeed with a child. His child.

"Hey, Toji," the call of his name has him look down at you, still facing the television despite your attention not wholly on it. "What do you think they are?"

"Hmm?" It takes a few seconds for it to click until he notices your hand brushing around your belly. He chuckles. "I'm hopin' for a girl. Wan' 'em to look and act like you."

You hum aimlessly at his answer before you berate him with more of your thoughts. "What if it's a boy? I think it'd be cute to have another mini-you running around the house."

"Nah, one mini-me is enough, and he already talks back to me like he's a teen." You giggle at the light sour face he shows and his complaints about Megumi. "Besides, I don't want another me. I'm already a lousy dad, and I didn't have the best childhood. I wouldn't want you to deal with a child that's exactly like me..."

Silence ensues with the answer; it's the only response you deem appropriate. That was the case until you say what was next on your mind.

"Toji, I'm sure your upbringing wasn't the best because people weren't there for you when you needed them. And although that's shaped you into the man I love, even I wouldn't want you to go through all that for a second time." You can feel the weight of his green eyes on you while you speak, though you don't turn to face him. "Nevertheless, times are different. You have me to love and care for you now—you and your beautiful children. You might not be the best dad in the world, but you've done a great job taking care of them."

"Thanks to you." He interrupts you, and you laugh.

"Yes, thanks to me. And because you have me, this little one won't be going through what you went through. I promise you, you're not alone in this. Because I'm pretty scared as this is my first pregnancy. But that's okay since I have you to take care of me. I'll be there to help you, and you'll be there to help me. As long as that's true, we'll do just fine."

Taken aback by your response, the older man turns to the pregnancy test still in his hand. The more he looks at the device, the more he ponders what you said. And a small smile creeps up on him, coming to a decision himself. At this point, it doesn't matter what the sex of the child will be to him. What warms his heart is that you promise to be by his side, helping him watch your little one — his child — his family grow as the days and years pass.

"Now," your voice brings him back to the present, whipping his head back to you. "I can't say the same if we end up with twins. Because you'll just have to deal with one while I have the other."

Toji puts the pregnancy test on the nightstand and goes for your nose to pinch it. "Fuckin' kid, who told you were funny, huh?" Your laughter only fuels him to mess with you more, but that's okay. He's smiling at your silliness, and that's all you want right now.

Because, even if they're not here yet, no child should have a father who doesn't know how to smile.

[bobluvbot]

late night cravings

pairing: sirius black x afab!reader summary: you sneak off the night for a cheeky midnight snack, hoping sirius won’t notice (spoiler alert: he does, and he’s sulky about it)  wc: 4k cw: pregnancy & baby talk, descriptions of food and eating, brief allusions to sex (not directly stated), no physical traits of reader specified but sirius can hold things out of reader’s reach  a/n: so i had a lengthy angst fic for sirius’s debut on my blog and im halfway done on it but i cant seem to finish it bc it sends me to a depressing spiral each time <33333 so pls enjoy a very self-indulgent domestic excessively fluffy blurb with my beloved <33333 p.s this is not proofread so plz ignore mistakes ty <3

opening the tomato salsa jar turned out to be the hardest part. 

back in bed, you thought the trickiest part of your late night escapade from sirius black was his long limbs wound up tight with yours, even in low light of the small nightlight in the corner, you could still make out the intricate script and designs following the curves and dips of his strong arms, holding you close to his chest. 

you had it committed to memory by now, having explored sirius’s body well enough to memorize the way his skin feels against yours, with heartbeats and breaths falling in sync without much effort. 

judging by the way his breathing gets heavy after every exhale and the little snores that escape in between, you knew he was beyond knackered. it was day five of sirius’s new job as an deputy director at the auror office. the day he learned about the promotion was pure unadulterated happiness. after letting you know through an express owl, you mustered up enough vigor available to your seven months pregnant self to get out of the house and go to the local shops to get party supplies and food to celebrate sirius’s achievement. 

Coming in third out of the list of things he genuinely loved in this life, after you and his luscious locks of course, was his job as an auror. young sirius had never thought in his wildest dreams that he’d work at the ministry, much less actually enjoy it. can’t really blame sixteen year old sirius, starting an underground rock band with the marauders seemed like the perfect thing to do after gruelling hours of studying at hogwarts. 

defense against the dark arts came to him naturally, with some counterspells like second nature to him as being exposed with use of dark magic young gave him no choice but to grow up quickly and defend himself from the excruciating pain or the mind control that was from his own family’s doing. Winning the first wizarding war alongside his friends and found family has solidified sirius’s calling in eradicating the use of dark magic and making sure the next generation can have a safe and normal life without the looming threat of a megalomaniac sorting people with their blood status and taking over the wizarding world. 

that night, sirius walked into a dark and eerily quiet home that had his senses on overdrive. but when the lights turned on and he saw familiar faces of his loved ones all beaming with pride, and there you were in the center, looking ethereal and round and all his, with his favorite red velvet cake on hand and a ridiculously big balloon that says “congratulations” tied to the candle, he could have melted in a syrupy mess of gooey happiness right then and there if he hadn’t caught himself together last minute.

Sirius had thought– that after you agreeing to go on one date with him to hogsmeade, winning the quidditch cup and seeing the proud look on minerva’s face, going home for christmas break and euphemia welcoming him with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug, remus teaching at the very same classroom you all were in years back, james and lily’s first kiss at the altar, holding little baby harry in his arms, you walking down the aisle with a bouquet of peonies in the most beautiful dress, and when you held his hand that one night and told him that you were expecting—- that he knew of love. but you do something extraordinary that has him scrambling to add to the endless list of why you’re the love of his life. he was so focused on you that he wasn’t prepared to catch pure muscle of james’s body as he flung himself to tackle his best friend in a hug. luckily, remus with a party hat was aptly standing between a toppling sirius and the living room wall, and he singlehandedly saved the two from creating a huge hole in the drywall. 

this was the life, sirius had thought after many hours of partying celebrating and eating, when he laid beside you in bed, limbs tangled, sated and dizzy and warm as you both came down from your highs. and he gets to spend it with you.

but as fun and exciting sirius’s new job is, it entailed an increased amount of responsibility as he was assisting the head auror. his least favorite part of the job was the boatloads of paperwork he has to deal with. An express owl almost dropped a howler letter into the soup you were making for dinner earlier that day and you opened it up panicking thinking it was an emergency. But no, it was just sirius whining that his hand hurt and is about to fall off and that he needs you to kiss it better. 

You did eventually, and one thing led to another and here you were, tucked in your husband’s warm embrace. you could stay here forever, only separating to drink water and bathroom trips, but the gnawing urge to eat something savory, sweet, tangy, and crunchy has possessed your entire being, the only way to quell it was to get up and go to the kitchen. the baby doesn’t seem to have a semblance of time yet, a fact you both envied and despised, because the clock on your nightstand said it was 3:48am in bold red numbers. A few months ago, you’d never be caught dead awake at this time, taking your precious sleep time seriously. The man himself would poke fun at you and say you’d gladly sleep through an earthquake or a housefire just as long as you get your seven to eight hours of sleep per day, and despite of your assumed role of contradicting and arguing with spontaneous and stubborn sirius, you had to agree.

But this was not about you anymore, or at least not quite yet for a good seventeen years, so you untangle yourself from sirius and your perfectly warm and cool side of the bed and waddle down the carpeted stairs, careful not to set foot on the creaky step that might risk waking sirius up. You need your secrets too, and you’re not in the mood to share food.

Grateful for the heavens that you and sirius stocked up on groceries two days ago, you had a wide selection of random items to munch on. A few days ago, you were introduced to the idea of a fluffernutter sandwich while scrolling through the short videos on your feed. Peanut butter and marshmallow fluff as spreads on their own was something you didn’t mind eating, but both together in a sandwich? You were enthralled, and the only way to quell the curiosity was to make it. So you did. 

You shovel and slather more than enough spread on each slice of bread, though you might have used the same spoon on both jars.. but who’s to tell you off otherwise, your snoozing husband upstairs? pfft. 

Smiling happily as if committing a particularly naughty crime, you place the spoon in your mouth, licking off the gooey mixture as you place the sandwich on a piece of paper towel (yes, you take the no dishwashing tonight seriously) on the table. humming, you mull over what to prepare next.

The baby needs something savory and tangy, but you’re not particularly keen on going through all the effort of heating up the soup from dinner, not to mention the amount of cutlery and dishes you’ll use for that, so you zero in on the tostada shells you chose rather than tortilla chips because its much more crispier. 

Opening the fridge, you see the laughing cow on a round packaging and decide its the one, so you grab two cheese wedges from it. 

Sirius had argued that the next aisle had actual, real blocks of cheese with a variety on display and that there was no point in getting artificially flavored ones. But you’ve gotten really good at giving him the stank face, which inadvertently ends 75 percent of nonsense bickering before it even starts; and since you’ve started showing more and more, sirius has admittedly gone softer on you, not that he was ever more but a pushover your entire relationship. Merely widening of eyes and a jut of your lower lip, even adding a slight tremble or two during times where you did actually fuck up, sirius can’t hold his stance longer than a minute before sighing and taking you in his arms. he might call you out for being a brat at times, but there’s no denying he loves it. And so the artificial wheel of cheese wedges got purchased and bagged home, and you’re meticulously spreading it over the golden shells, leaving little to no gaps of it bare. 

Laying it on another paper towel, your heart gets giddy on your chest knowing you’re in for a treat tonight. But not quite time to start munching, the baby reminds you that you still need something tangy to complete the meal. So comes your big predicament, should you get dill pickles or tomato salsa? 

It took you ten seconds too long of weighing down the pros-and-cons of choosing one and feeling like you made the wrong choice if you end up not liking it. It doesn’t help that the pregnancy hormones make you more anxious and tend to put you always on the verge of tears. So when the not-so-groundbreaking idea of just eating them both hits you, you feel the weight slide off your shoulders as you sigh. Because again, who’s gonna tell you that eating pickles this late at night can give you bad acid reflux, your snoozing husband? Pfft.

Snacking on some, you do manage to pick out the juiciest looking pickle chips and lay them atop of your tostadas. You and the little one are beyond excited to dive in. It’s looking like a mini upside-down pizza with the cheese spread first then the pickle as toppings. Only thing left now was the the tomato salsa slathered on top to seal the deal. 

Opening tight lids wasn’t an issue for you before, in fact, you took pride when friends hand you a jar or bottle to open because you could do it in a breeze. Chances were, the lid wasn’t even screwed on that tight, you were just built different, you’d say with a shrug once you give the items back. So when the tomato jar doesn’t budge after two attempts, you get puzzled.

Maybe your hands were slippery? You wipe them down with a tea towel and try again. No.

You weren’t holding it tight enough? Fingers held taut against the lid, you try three times. Still no.

Determined, you try different positions before letting the jar go, shooting it glares as if it’d get intimidated and just open up for you. You were also getting lightheaded, and passing out on the kitchen floor due to excessive stimulation of your vagal reflex because you were too stubborn to use magic or wake your husband up to open it for you doesn’t seem like the best way to spend the early Tuesday morning hours.

Magic was even out of the option (well, in your brain it was), because your wand’s tucked beside sirius’s on your nightstand, and frankly, you don’t have the patience to drag yourself upstairs just to flick a utility spell to open the wretched thing. So you do the next best option: lose hope. 

The disappointment was mutual between you and your baby. And the acid reflux did start to kick in, making your stomach grumble in both hunger and pain. This was all going so well until it isn’t, tears began to make its way up to your eyes.

“See, this is what you get for being greedy and eating all snacks by yourself,” sirius huffs behind you, deep voice still raspy with sleep. You didn’t even hear him getting out of bed and coming down the stairs, that’s how preoccupied you were with opening the jar.

He grabs the container away from you to open it, but not without throwing a scowl at your direction, handsome face contorted with furrowed eyebrows and downturned mouth, enough to express that he felt betrayed by this whole ordeal. If you were in a better mood, you’d poke his sides and tackle him playfully, teasing him for being sulky. But for now, you need the jar opened so you could eat in peace. You’ll deal with the sharing food issue later.

“t wasn’t supposed to take long,” you mumble, caught off guard and refusing to make eye contact, pretending the fridge magnets beside sirius’s head is ten times more interesting than his face. You don’t miss his raised eyebrow and snort at your response. 

The second attempt comes and he opens it with a satisfying pop. your mouth falls agape, eyeing the *now accessible* tomato salsa dip in disbelief. What the hell? 

And you couldn’t even take the smug grin spreading across sirius’s face by the millisecond. Refuse to. You try to snatch the open container away from him but he holds it higher and out of reach, making a show of puffing his chest, flexing his biceps, even giving it a kiss. This is all James’s doing, you need to have a talk with Lily soon about keeping these two separated.

“Sirius!” you try to plead your way out. the trademark innocent, pouty expression settles on your face like a second mask, hoping he’d go down this easy. 

It doesn’t work. He just chuckles, mocking your pleas and face while his free hand sneaks up and pinches your unsuspecting cheek to tease you further.

You yelp in mock outrage and swat his hand away, trying your best to keep your displeasure firm on your face, but you feel the giggles coming up. “This is why I sneak out alone to eat, you’re such a bully,” you huff, but take a seat in front of your makeshift spread. 

Sirius places the jar near you, but not without poking your exposed sides, armed with the knowledge that the easiest way to get you laughing (and eventually conceding in an argument) is knowing where your tickle zones are. “Oh yeah,” he drawls, plopping himself beside you. “That’s also why you’re the only one waking up with an upset stomach, stinking up our bathroom so early in the morning.”

Now this one got you appalled, embarrassed, disturbed, basically hit with all the feelings. You’ve been living together long before you got married, and he never brought up this issue until today. “That’s it. I’m leaving.” He makes a move to snatch the sandwich away but the embarrassment on your cheeks made you more agile, swatting his hand away and shielding the sandwich with your hands. “After I finish my meal,” you continue, shooting him a glare.

But see, one of the things that drove you nuts even way back at Hogwarts, was how Sirius Black mostly managed to outsmart you or be one step ahead of you in everything. After you turned him down without much thought whatsoever despite his grand declaration of interest, Sirius took it upon himself to show you (1) that you made a mistake for rejecting him, (2) that his ego won’t let you embarrass him like that again, (3) and that you won’t get rid of him that easily. Once he set his eyes on you, you were face to face with him in everything: grades, OWLs/NEWTs scores, Quidditch plays and bets, wins at the duelling club, even with the fucking gobstones tournament. He never let you catch a break.

Things were surely different now, since you vowed to be with him in sickness and health and untill death parts you both– hell, you’re carrying his child. So you figured maybe, maybe, he’ll let you catch a break this time. Let you eat in peace as you mull over his bathroom comment and how you’re going to get him back. 

But again, no. Unlike you, Sirius remembered to grab his wand from the nightstand. Not even batting an eye, he says nonchalantly, “Accio sandwich.” And the fluffernutter you protected with all your physical might managed to escape your watch, and land gracefully on his waiting palm. 

What irritated you more from this whole ordeal? The prodigal auror that climbed his way up the ranks and became the youngest deputy director, fully capable of complex spells and wielding different kinds of magic, felt the need to do a verbal Accio spell just to make a point to you.

Out of words, you just stare at him blankly. Too stunned to even cry in frustration because you knew you made a conscious, willing choice to be with this man. 

Maybe your best guilt-tripping expression comes best when you’re not trying. Color drains from his face when you remained silent and he scrambles to take a bite off the sandwich before handing it back to you, or rather placing it on your limp hand as you refuse to acknowledge it, still too hurt to budge. “‘m sorry, baby. Just wanted to eat with you since we didn’t get to earlier.”

He did arrive later than usual, deciding to finish the stack of case files and paperwork so he won’t have to sift through them again the next day. There were plans to wait for him before eating, but when the jitteriness and slightly nausea started to kick in, you had no choice in the matter. Sirius had been sulky and clingy the moment he got home, and as compromise, you stayed to watch him eat; listening and reacting animatedly as he ranted about his stressful day.

So you cut him off some slack, also exhausted from all the emotional stimulation sirius brought since he woke up. As a silent peace offering (also because you’re not ready to say sorry to his face), you slide the tostadas within his reach and finally take your bite of the goddamn sandwich. It was good, tasted as expected, sweet peanut butter. You’d probably have it again as a drunk at 3am meal.

Sirius also went and got snacks of his own: microwaved popcorn, pickles, toasted bread slathered with butter, and grapes. Together, you munched on the little spread of random food you could find in your kitchen at 4am in comfortable silence, which is surprising after the earlier bickering. No matter how cheesy it sounded in your head, sirius was the only person that can drive you to the brink of insanity and right back. You were in for a hell of a ride for the foreseeable future; and while there’s a lot of uncertainty right now and changes to be made when the little one gets here, you’re beyond happy that you get to do all this with him. 

Sleep was beginning to creep up on you. Of course he notices this right when you do, so a warm arm wrapped across your back urges you to settle on his lap, bodies melding into the familiar crevices like puzzle pieces, though you both had to adjust certain angles to accommodate your growing belly. You sit like this for a while; your head tucked securely in the crook of his neck, steady breaths lulling you to sleep, while sirius’s hands instinctively finds its way under your sleep shirt and on the natural curve of your belly, lithe fingers stroking and drawing soothing circles anywhere he could reach. 

you wish you could stay like this forever– cozy and soft and safe– but alas, you were carrying sirius black’s offspring. the baby decides to reward you with a round of kicks, probably giddy after feeling their father’s touch. Sirius chuckles and coos at your bump, while a muffled groan leaves your lips from the sudden onslaught of movement, but still refusing to move from this comfortable position.

Smooth cold lips touch the side of your forehead and you relish in the feeling. “Does it ever hurt, love? All that kicking and wiggling?” 

“Not really,” a content sigh leaves your lips. “Feels strange at times, seeing your belly move on its own.” 

To prove your point, two tiny bulges make a split second appearance just above where Sirius’s hand lay. His thumb soothes the area lovingly.

“Definitely getting stronger though; Lily told me during the later months, harry for some reason loved to kick downwards, making bathroom trips more frequent than it already is. Not excited for that.”

He presses kisses on your forehead, temple, hairline, anywhere he could reach without moving too much. “Things that you do and endure for this ‘lil troublemaker,” sirius murmurs. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, you could feel his body reverberating with awe and fondness. You try to bask in it for as long as you could, but a passing thought makes its presence known to you again.

“Do i really make the bathroom stink?” it comes out whinier than you intended it to be but you just had to know for peace of mind. 

Sirius’s whole frame vibrates as he tries to stifle his laughter, taking you with him. He’s laughing at your expense but you feel your own giggles brewing in your belly. You try to hold it in for longer, preserving some self respect. “A little bit,” he says solemnly. You groan, earlier mortified feeling returning in full swing. It triggers another round of chuckles.

“But dove, it’s nothing that my deep love and adoration for my lovely strong hot and sexy wife can’t handle.” He says assuredly, and you curse yourself for being so down bad for this man as blood rushes to your cheeks from his words. Good thing it’s dim and your face is still tucked in the crook of his neck. 

You do pinch his arm in response, and both your laughters compliment the comfortable silence. 

“Although,” he says after a while. “The betrayal of you eating without me still hurts.” 

“Siri.. i’m sorry,” you mumble. “‘y looked so tired, Didn’t wanna wake you up.”

He tuts and doesn’t say much after that. In sirius dictionary, this means he just wants some affection from you— for you to dote on him and coax out his forgiveness, even if you both know he’s not really mad; judging by his arms still wrapped securely around your frame and steady breaths that tickle and fan on your bare skin. 

So you mimic his actions from earlier, planting tiny kisses on his neck, collarbones, jawline, anywhere your lips could reach. Kissing his cheek seem to do the trick, his fake scowl quickly coming undone as a bashful smile breaks through the frown, and his tiny dimple you love so much making an appearance. The muggle maternity books did say dimples are genetic, so an image of a little Sirius running around and smiling up at you with those dimpled cheeks is a warming thought. 

“I am charming all the lids to be stuck at night as soon as i wake up tomorrow for work.” You poke a sensitive spot on his side, making him jolt, but you couldn’t resist laughter as it bubbles out of the surface. “You’re insufferable, I can’t believe I married a psychopath.”

“And you let him knock you up too. I’d say it takes one to know one, hm?” 

[ohcolinbridgerton]

First of all the social media au is amazing!!! Like very, very amazing, love it 🪩💜 since requests are open, can I request sweet blurb for colin x reader, where they are childhood best friends and reader gets jealous when Colin comes all hot and sizzling after his travels, please <33333 dearest author !!!

hi!!! thank you for this kind message - so glad you love the social media au!!! i love this request so i hope you enjoy my take on this!

biscuits | colin x reader

summary: a childhood best friend, dreams of travelling and lots of biscuits

warnings: none

word count: 2.2k

requests: open

masterlist

a/n: based off of this lovely requests. hope you all enjoy and feel free to send more requests in - this was fun to write x

It had always been Colin and Y/N. Or Y/N and Colin, depending on which of the two you asked. They had been inseparable since the pair were young—their friendship first forged years ago on a cobbled street in London.

 A cobbled street in 1797 to be exact, when the Y/L/N family arrived , their carriage creaking to a halt on the cobblestone street in front of a modest Palladian-style townhouse, a home that housed the Bridgerton family. The Y/L/N’s journey from their countryside estate had been long and tiresome, but as the family disembarked, they could feel the buzz of a new beginning in the air—unending possibilities, opportunities, and challenges ahead of them. 

John Y/L/N, the patriarch, was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a kind but determined look in his eyes. He had recently inherited a small sum from a distant relative and decided to invest in a shipping business, a venture that required the family to relocate to the bustling city of London. His wife, Augusta, a woman of grace and practicality, supported the move wholeheartedly and believed it would provide their children with a brighter future.

With letters back and forth to her old friend Violet Bridgerton, Augusta had decided that the first place the family was to visit on their arrival was the Bridgerton house. Years of friendship and correspondence meant a shared trust was formed within the two families, and a sense of familiarity was exactly what the pair needed as they embarked on a new adventure with their children. 

Their eldest son, Edward, stepped out of the carriage first. At fifteen, he was on the cusp of adulthood, his green eyes wide with wonder as he took in the sight of the flowered building and family that stood before him. His younger brother, Thomas, a quiet twelve-year-old, clung to his mother’s skirt, his eyes curious and apprehensive. And then there was little Y/N, a small but energetic six-year-old, who followed suit with her eldest brother, practically bouncing with excitement as she jumped out of the carriage. 

And that’s how they met, at age six, with Y/N flinging herself out of a carriage and almost bumping heads with the boy that she’d grow to know as Colin Bridgerton. Their first words spoken to each other consisting of ‘’Ow!’’ and ‘’Sorry,’’ mixed with a few childish giggles and the scolding of their parents. 

From their initial meeting, they had been known as the ‘Troublesome Duo’, being the same age and fuelled with the same levels of idiocy as one another. Wherever one went, the other followed. If Violet found an empty tray of biscuits and crumbs trailing the floor of the Bridgerton drawing room, she knew the culprit was not only Colin but Y/N too. And if John Y/L/N discovered a bottle of his finest scotch had been tampered with, he knew to blame the teenage duo of Colin and Y/N, who could be spotted in the garden laughing and pushing one another on the wooden swing that hung from the family’s favourite Willow tree. 

The pair spent countless hours exploring the woods around their houses, sharing secrets and dreams of the future. However as they grew older, the ‘Troublesome duo’s’ paths began to diverge. Colin, with his adventurous spirit, yearned to see the world beyond the walls of the Ton, while Y/N knew there was no possibility for her, as a woman who was expected to find marriage in her season’s out in society, to have the opportunity of travelling , so instead she took comfort in the familiar, cherishing the close-knit community and the life she had known since moving from the countryside. 

So when Colin finally announced at the age of one and twenty to both of their families that he was leaving to travel in hopes of finding comfort in Greece or maybe even Spain, Y/N put on a brave face. She had always known it to be the two of them, and the thought of her counterpart going off to explore the world and do all the things she could only dream of—well, she was envious, to say the least. Envious, but proud nonetheless that he was doing the one thing he had spoken of since before they could even count to a hundred or play pianoforte. 

She hugged him tightly at the train station, her heart heavy with a mixture of pride and sadness. "Write to me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Every chance I get," Colin promised, his eyes bright with excitement. "I'll be back before you know it."

The months that followed were filled with letters from far-off places, each one a reminder of Colin’s incredible journey. Y/N read them eagerly, her heart warming with each adventure he described. But as time passed, she couldn’t ignore the growing emptiness in her chest—the feeling that something vital was missing from her life.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Colin returned. The two families gathered to welcome him home, eager to hear his stories. Y/N, however, stood on the outskirts of the crowd, watching as everyone flocked to Colin, their eyes wide with admiration. He seemed taller and more confident, his tales of distant lands captivating everyone who listened. His skin had browned from the golden sun of all the cities he had visited, and his fashions seemed different—perhaps a new coat and blue cravat from Paris or one of the other places he had visited. He looked different—a nice difference—but it was not what she’d remembered him to look like.

But it wasn’t until Lady Danbury’s ball that Y/N really felt the pang of jealousy in her heart. 

Colin Bridgerton had always been the life of the party, his charming smile and quick wit making him a favourite in London’s high society. There was no denying it. But with his new-found look came even more favourable glances from debutante’s, flocking around him, fluttering their lashes, and waving their fans in his direction. The pair had always made a joke about it, whether that was about a Lord almost jumping from his spot to fetch Y/N some lemonade or a girl practically begging Colin to write his name on their dance card. Colin and Y/N had always found the whole thing preposterous, completely uninterested in meaningless flirts and instead wanting to go off and cause mischief that would later have both of their parents scolding them. But now, from what she could see over the crowd of feathered headpieces, Colin was absolutely loving the attention that he was receiving; she was almost certain she’d even seen him wink at Cressida Cowper, and it was then that Y/N felt like she must have been dreaming, or perhaps the lemonade had been spiked, because never in her wildest dreams would she have thought she’d see the sight. 

The sharp twist in her heart was something she couldn’t quite understand. She wanted to be happy for him, of course she did, but the sight of Colin surrounded by admirers and not a glance of attention her way made her feel invisible. So she found herself slipping away from the crowd, retreating to their favourite spot in Lady Danbury’s garden, an old oak tree that they had sneakily carved their initials into summers ago in their childhood. 

A few minutes had passed as she pondered but it felt like only mere seconds before she heard footsteps behind her breaking her away from the fortress of thoughts that flew around her head. She knew it was him before she even looked up - he was the only one who ever knew where to find her. “There you are," Colin said, a hint of concern in his voice. "I’ve been looking for you."

Y/N forced a smile, smoothing out the layers of her gown that had become creased from her cross-legged position under the tree. "I just needed a moment alone. You've been busy."

Colin stood before her, his familiar presence both comforting and unsettling. A laugh escaped his lips as he spoke. "It's been overwhelming making up for time lost with everyone,” he admitted, not quite believing all the attention that he’d been receiving from all the young ladies at the ball. "But it is you I missed the most, Y/N. I’m not quite sure I even remember the names of any of those ladies I was speaking with and I doubt that they cared about the tales of my travels.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart aching with a realisation that hit her like a bolt of lightning. The jealousy she felt wasn’t just about the attention Colin was getting. She knew him better than to know that he wasn’t truly interested in the dramas of courting and dancing and listening to debutantes talk at great length about the many languages they spoke or the instruments that they were taught to play. And he said it himself, he couldn’t even remember the names of the ladies that he was speaking to nor did he think they card to hear about his adventures. The jealousy she was feeling was because she missed him more deeply than she had ever admitted to herself. 

She had always cherished their friendship, but now she understood that her feelings ran much deeper. The sight of his blue eyes in the darkened garden only made her realise that. It wasn’t normal how much she longed for his return or the fact that she’d rushed down at the break of dawn each day to see if a letter had arrived in her name. Or even that when she did receive a letter from him, she’d read it over and over again, tracing his words with her fingertips before trying to write her own response, crumpling several pages and spilling ink as she struggled to find the words she wanted to write. 

‘’I’ve missed you too, Colin,’’ she weakly smiled up at him, and before she couldn’t even start a new sentence, he was sitting down opposite her, mirroring her crossed legs and taking her hands into his own. 

‘’Do you remember when we were twelve and we snuck away from Lady Danbury’s house whilst our mama’s were inside having tea?’’ Colin spoke gently, taking a squeeze of her hand as he watched her nod, unsure of where he was going with his words. 

‘’We ran outside with dozens of biscuits in hand and found our way to this very tree.’’ Colin paused, looking at the large oak that stood behind them before continuing, ‘’and I was annoyed because you had managed to get all the good biscuits—my favourite ones, might I add—and I had been left with the terrible ones that no one ever really wants. And then you said that I could have the good ones and you would be happy with whatever was left.’’

‘’Colin, why are you talking about biscuits?’’ Y/N’s eyes furrowed. She’d wanted a moment alone, yet here he was talking her ear off about sweet favours—she was confused, to say the least. 

‘’What I’m trying to say is that you always put me first. No matter what, you always let me have my way or let me do what I want.’’

‘’It’s just biscuits, Colin.’’

‘’But it is not. It is more than that. Even with me going off and travelling to all these new places , you’ve been so supportive, even though I know that you’ve shared that same dream since we were young. And while I was away, as much as I enjoyed it, the only thing that was missing was you. None of those adventures meant as much as they would have if I was with you.’’

‘’Colin-’’

‘’Y/N, every day I was away, I only thought of you and how much I missed you. You are the only person I have ever shared my dreams with, and you are the only person I wish to be part of all my future ones.’’

‘’Colin, what are you trying to say?’’

‘’I’m saying that there is no one else in the world that I’d ever dare share a biscuit with, and there is no one else in the world that I am completely and utterly in love with as I am with you.”

‘’You’re in love with me?’’ Y/N choked, wanting to pull her hands away from him in disbelief but unable to do so as he continued to squeeze hers gently. 

‘’It took me being away from you to realise it, but yes, I believe that I am in love with you, and if you’ll have me, I’ll never go away again, not unless you are by my side.’’

Relief washed over her, and she felt a tear slip down her cheek. She hadn’t even realised she had started crying. All her feelings that she had no explanation for finally made sense when she heard them from the mouth of the person that shared her soul, her counterpart, the other half of her ‘Troublesome duo,’. 

‘’I am in love with you too, Colin.’’ She confessed, barely believing that the words had been voiced aloud as her throat felt so dry from disbelief. 

And then Colin smiled—that familiar, warm smile she had missed so much—and she knew she had always been in love with him, despite not fully knowing herself or the meaning of her feelings. His smile was enough to melt her heart and bring it back to life again. It was a smile that she had adored since the first time she had seen him, and now with him across from her, their hands intertwined, it was a smile that she’d never get tired of seeing. 

"So, what do we do now?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Colin held her hand tightly. "We start a new adventure," he said softly, "together."

‘’With biscuits?’’ she laughed. 

‘’With lots and lots of biscuits.’’

-

a/n: hope you all enjoyed my first little blurb!! feel free to request anything bridgerton related <3

[strawberrystepmom]

izuku x f!reader. enemies to lovers au, workshopped with @izvmimi <33333 her follow up part can be found here. wc 3.6k.

With an exasperated sigh, Izuku points the remote that looks comically small in his hand toward the flat screen TV screwed into his office wall to turn the volume up the moment you come on screen. 

“This week, yet another family was displaced by the inaction of heroes. When the focus shifted from merely catching villains rather than protecting the public…”

Your voice drifts into a blur, the man choosing to focus on your mouth and how it’s moving rather than what you’re saying. Plush and soft, topped with camera ready shimmering gloss. Your eyes are wide and doe like, your cheeks round and trustworthy. You’re the picture of empathy, pretty and polished, immaculate in every way.

It certainly isn’t hard to imagine why VOHSV, Victims of Hero Supported Violence, picked you as their spokesperson. Who else could manage this busy talk show circuit with expert precision? Watching you play the crowd and hosts’ emotions like a violin makes him roll his eyes but he can’t deny you are damn good. 

Your message is infuriating to him and his colleagues but at least you look like heaven sent while spreading it. It’s probably why everything you say spreads like wildfire across the social media apps he has open on his unlocked phone that rests on his desk. 

He’s listened to your spiel enough times that he can already fill in the blanks of what you’re saying but he picks up the remote and turns the volume up an additional click to be certain you haven’t deviated from your usual points. Costly property damage, displacement, lack of available care to those affected by the trauma of villain attacks, blah, blah, blah.

The interviewer appears on screen as the camera pans, nodding at the last comment you made that Izuku didn’t care to actually listen to.  

“And how does your organization suggest the Commission begin combating these issues?”

The camera is quick to pan back to you with your perfect smile, teeth striking and bright and dazzling. The man watching from his oversized office and overstuffed chair clenches his fist watching you, uncertain if it’s annoyance or desire that fills his chest, but he doesn’t look away despite the flashing red light on his desk phone telling him he’s being paged by his assistant. 

“I am personally calling upon the top heroes to do better.” Your smile doesn’t waver and the camera zooms in on your head and shoulders, allowing your next impassioned plea to land directly where you intend it to. “Deku, you claim you care, yet you are responsible for the most costly property damage caused by a hero in Japanese history. How do you explain that with that big smile plastered on your face?”

Bold of you to be taunting the man chuckling humorlessly from his desk about plastered on smiles with a high definition flat screen sized Cheshire grin of your own on your face but he appreciates the audacity. 

“Be a hero instead of just talking about being one.”

Perhaps if your life’s path were different you’d be a hero just like him or maybe he’d even be you, full of righteous anger toward those who only wish to help no matter the means. Or collateral. 

Without thinking, Izuku pulls his phone off of the top of his desk and his jaw slackens when he presses the little pen in the corner of the current most popular app in the app store. The speed of his thumbs is almost impressive, big hands on a little phone screen won’t stop the number one hero, and he smirks when his phone pings letting him know his post has gone live. 

Deku (@fight4smiles)

Name the time and place, VOHSV. I’ll gladly drop a check by to cover some of the damage you allege I’ve been doing. 

He gets to see your reaction in real time, the camera panning from you to the interviewer who grins excitedly, pressing on their in ear microphone and back. The man chuckles to himself, swinging back and forth in his chair, lips curved into a smirk. 

“It appears the current number one hero has responded to your challenge. He’s willing to meet.”

Your smile droops but you’re quick to put it back in place, brows raised and head nodding wildly. The adversarial relationship between the two of you is nothing new, Deku having spent the better part of this entire year ducking and dodging your direct invitations to speak with the VOHSV. 

He watches you smack your lips together and purse them, primly placing your hands in your lap and laughter comes easily. It’s no big deal to him to cut a check to help put some buildings back together, the many zeros on the end of his bank balance just one of the many perks of being at the top but it has never been about that for him.

Deep down, he knows he’ll never change your mind about your crusade but he would love to shut you up at least for a little while. 

“How brave of him to finally step up. I will be reaching out to him soon with details.”

The red light on Izuku’s desk phone continues to blink wildly and just as he leans forward to answer it, his office door opens and his assistant stares at him with disbelief with the current number two Dynamight hot on their heels, pulling his mask off of his head and gently shoving them out of the way.

The assistant scurries back to their position outside of Deku’s office as quickly as possible, allowing the men privacy.

“Why did you do that?” 

Izuku looks down at his cell phone and tosses it on his desk with a relaxed shrug. He catches a glance at your pretty face one last time before shutting the TV off, tossing the remote aside and turning his attention toward Katsuki with his arms folded over his chest. 

“You know that you’re giving them what they want, right? Giving these shitheads attention is just going to create more of ‘em.”

More of them - outspoken victims’ rights activists. VOHSV is simply one of many groups that have cropped up over the last several years as hero academies have continued to churn out bigger and better heroes with every graduating class. It has been a decade since Izuku and Katsuki graduated and the classes after them have only become stronger, a source of pride for both of the men, given their hefty donations to their alma mater. 

Sure the battles have become bigger, spectacles to be adapted into films and documentaries later, but isn’t that what being a hero is all about? What’s left behind after you save the day, no matter who may be affected?

The heroes of today are simply doing what they’ve been taught to do and that’s save the day no matter the cost. It’s hard to hold it against them when it’s systemic and historically that has been the main reason why most advocacy groups have fallen apart but not the VOHSV. They are succeeding because they have you, coiffed to perfection and ready to take anyone you can to task, including the devilishly handsome and arrogant man topping the hero charts.

Izuku sighs, his phone buzzing persistently on the desk in front of him. It’s certainly his agent or his PR team or someone eager to scold him for what he’s done so he ignores it, sliding the little piece of metal aside.

“I’d care more if their points were valid but we both know they aren’t. I’ll cut a check, flash a smile, and hopefully make their mouthpiece look silly enough she’ll stop doing press circuits. It seems like a winning situation to me.”

Bakugou snorts, unimpressed with the answer.

“What if this backfires and you look stupid?”

Izuku’s phone continues to buzz and he opens his desk drawer, sliding the device inside rather than deal with the issue at hand. He’ll comfort everyone later, what matters the most to him right now is when you’ll be brave enough to reach out to show him your hand. Right now, he has you backed into a corner and he simply wants to watch you make your way out of it, smug that he’s the one who has you pinned there.

“Impossible. People don’t take these organizations seriously enough for me to look stupid.”

Katsuki snorts, leaning against the door frame rather than fully entering the office. He was asked to stop by earlier this week, the two of them supposed to be ironing out details to appear at a hospital opening in another part of the city, but the task has clearly been put aside for a petty online feud headed by the Beacon of Hope himself.

“I think you’re already stupid.”

Izuku offers a curt smile and nods at his friend.

“I’ll take that into consideration along with all of your other opinions, don’t worry.” 

Any further argument between the two is cut short when Deku’s assistant bursts back onto the scene, peeking around the door frame. 

“Uh…the VOHSV spokesperson is on the phone for you, Mr. Midoriya.”

Izuku laughs and raises his brows, shifting forward in his chair and pressing the flashing line one button indicating a call is waiting. He presses his thick finger to his lips to encourage Bakugou and his assistant to be quiet and he hits the speaker button immediately.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”

It takes all of you not to toss your phone across the room at the sound of his voice through your speaker. You’re in the back of a chauffeured vehicle, phone pressed to your ear so hard you swear that your cheek and head are going to hurt later, nursing a bottle of water in your free hand. 

You weren’t expecting to hear from him so soon, either.

“I figured since you are so eager and have so much to say we may as well get this over with. We have an event on Friday night and you will be forwarded the details on location and attire and we are anticipating your donation of over five million yen. It will help many who have been harmed due to your recklessness.”

The blood pulsing in his ears makes the room seem smaller, the walls caving in on him with your words. You’re so adversarial toward him, so eager to bite and nip and bat with your claws out, and he wants to know why. What happened to make you distrust people like him so much? 

Remembering he’s the one who has you backed into a corner, he shifts in his chair and tents his fingers on the desk in front of him.

“I’ll have your check, don’t worry. I won’t let you look silly in front of the fourteen VOHSV supporters you have to impress.”

You scoff incredulously. There is something seriously wrong with this man, his arrogance blinding his common sense. Your fingers ache where they grip into the metal sides of your phone and the driver keeps shifting his gaze from the road to the mirror to see your face twist into varying degrees of frustration and anger. Taking a deep breath, you let your lips curve into a smile and narrow your eyes. 

Focus. You have him where you want him.

“I didn’t realize this conversation was meant for stooping to petty insults but I can’t say I’m shocked. It’s hardly a surprise you refuse to take anyone else’s safety given your own personal record of injured civilians while you’re handling villain attacks.”

Bakugou’s jaw drops and Izuku leans forward to lift the phone from its cradle, pressing the button to turn it off speaker at near record speed. It takes all of his self control to keep from snapping the cord in two knowing it would effectively end the call and thus his opportunity to antagonize you further.

“Well, you aren’t the only one who has done their homework. We pulled a profile on you months ago and know your entire background. You have no relevant experience that would allow you to criticize heroes the way that you do. Put yourself in our shoes.”

You snort from the other end of the phone, impressed by how bad he is at lying. Arrogance has truly won out over any logic this man may have in his entire body and you suck your teeth, jaw slackening because you have truly won this round.

“See, Deku, here’s the thing. If you were telling the truth about anything you just said then you would already know that I am a graduate of an international hero academy. I have been where you are, or at least wanted to be, but then I came to my senses. I used to hope you’d be able to do the same but it appears my faith was misplaced.”

Now Izuku’s jaw drops, his emerald eyes darting across the room as though the words he needs will magically spring forth from the walls. Sadly, nothing happens and he sits there with his mouth agape dumbly. 

“I look forward to seeing you on Friday. Don’t forget that check.”

You pull the phone from your ear and end the call, laughing to yourself knowing that you left this cocky asshole speechless. He mimics your motion in his own office, pulling his desk phone from his ear and placing it back where it belongs. As badly as he wants to be frustrated by the loss to you, he’s impressed by how easily you hit back without an ounce of fear or worry of what you’re getting yourself into.

A woman as beautiful as she is brave and irritating.

He feels his cock stiffen slightly in his sweatpants the longer he thinks about it and frowns, immediately thinking of exploding buildings and grandmas to distance himself from the fact he’s into how eagerly you spar with him.

His assistant and Bakugou both stare at him, his friend laughing and turning on his heel to leave, waving dismissively.

“Like I said Deku, you’re already stupid. Have fun on Friday.”

Izuku’s assistant follows suit and closes the door behind them, giving him time to lick his wounds.

The rest of the week continues like his weeks usually do. He’s called four times to handle villain attacks, each one ending a little less destructive than the last, and Thursday is when he sees you on TV again, smiling brightly on a different talk show in the same time slot you were in on Monday.

He keeps the TV muted, uninterested in what you have to say about the people he saved this week, but he watches your mouth move silently. His eyes narrow every time your tongue darts out, the tip of it wetting your bottom lip and his freckled cheeks heat when your lips twist into that winning smile. 

That damned smile.

This man has made bringing smiles to faces his entire personality since the day he zipped up his prototype suit years ago, vowing on that day to work as hard as he could no matter how bleak things seemed. It worked and it’s what he’s known for, joy and hope and safety the things he strives for the most. 

Watching you smile while calling his character into question makes him simultaneously furious and hard again and he has to cross his legs and imagine those same exploding buildings when you press your lips together on the screen in front of him. 

A knock on the office door captures his attention and his assistant opens the door, clipboard in hand.

“You have a tux fitting for tomorrow.”

Reaching for the remote he turns his TV off and rises with a nod. Everyone knows you have to look your very best for your biggest battles and he has no intention of showing up to meet you face to face looking like anything less than a magazine cover.

He just never imagined you’d do the same yet here you stand, 8 pm on Friday night, draped in dazzling gold silk that hugs every inch of your body. You’re taller than he expected, one long leg jutting from the slit in your dress and elegant neck draped in simple jewelry.

You’re beautiful in a way that TV did little to capture and the arrogant man finds himself speechless when you hold out your hand in his direction, grinning at him. He searches for hidden fangs and finds none, just perfect pretty teeth.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier this week, this organization is my passion and it gets the best of me sometimes.”

Your words catch him off guard so he just nods and shakes your hand. If you notice his sweaty palm you keep it to yourself and he internally chides himself for his nerves. He is the fucking number one hero, his face is plastered on every single corner of Japan, and he needs to remember that. 

“Hey, we all have bad days. I’m just glad to be here to shed some light on a small cause.”

Your smile dims and his widens, your palm quickly leaving his. Heat simmers in your core and you feel disgusted by your own desire. Sure, he’s one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen - all big muscles that his tuxedo does little to hide and pretty green waves falling over his face but he’s also the biggest asshole you’ve had the unfortunate luck of meeting.

Drawing your hands close to your body, you fight the urge to petulantly fold your arms over your chest, and he digs in his pocket to produce the check he promised. He holds it out in your direction and you pluck it from his hand, eyes widening when you notice that the amount written on the check is far larger than the five million yen previously discussed. 

“Doubled your donation. Very kind of you, Deku.”

He smirks and you feel warm again, cheeks heating in perfect time with your core. Perhaps it’s the glass of champagne you downed an hour ago to calm your nerves or the low lighting of the event space but he is undeniably attractive and you are undeniably attracted to him.

A terrible realization to come to while face to face with a man you called a liar and a fraud four short days ago.

Izuku enters your space and crowds around you, dipping his head low enough that his mouth is just above your ear. He’s bigger than you expected, an entire head taller than you, and you feel overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne and the way he carries himself. He has the demeanor of a man who knows he’s the shit and as much as it aggravates you, it thrills you too, the same heat lashing through your stomach with every flutter of his long lashes.

“Call me an optimist but I think we can still salvage a friendship out of this situation.”

You laugh, shaking your head and clutching the check he provided to your chest.

“There’s an after party starting soon if you don’t have more buildings to go destroy. I’m sure the rest of the VOHSV team would love to thank you personally for your generous donation.”

The hero presses his lips together and raises his brow, blazing green eyes meeting yours. The tension between the two of you is so thick that even the most unaware onlooker would feel it but the room is relatively empty and you’re grateful for it.

“Maybe I only want one person to thank me for my donation.”

Raising a brow to match his, you purse your lips and quickly consider your options. You could give in to the undeniable attraction, a sordid affair with a man you seek to change as part of your life’s work couldn’t possibly be good for optics if you were to be exposed. You could walk away and publicly embarrass him but that doesn’t sound like fun either so you do what you do best - think on your feet and hide your true intentions behind big doe eyes and a winning smile.

“There’s a powder room down that hall, last door on the right,” you motion to a corridor to your left and his eyes follow your movements. “Be there in ten minutes.” 

Izuku nods, moving enough to allow you to slip past him and he watches the way your dress shifts across your ass with each step you take away from him. He isn’t going to bother to be polite anymore knowing what is coming next, his mouth watering at the mere thought of watching that pretty little dress drop to the ground below both of your feet while he uncovers the treasure beneath it. 

His half hard cock presses against the zipper of his tuxedo pants and he doesn’t bother to adjust himself, taking a shortcut that keeps him against the wall and away from prying eyes to the hallway you instructed him to follow. Each step makes his cock throb and he groans when he reaches for the door handle, wondering what he’ll find when he opens it.

Twisting the handle, he chuckles humorlessly when his eyes fall upon an empty powder room. A large mirror framed by lights with a small sink and counter in front of it are all he finds and he shakes his head, eyes falling upon a folded piece of paper sitting on the counter.

Flicking the paper open with his thumb and index finger, he frowns at the words he reads first.

Better luck next time.

Followed by your name signed in delicate penmanship he traces the tip of his thumb over. The ink is still wet and it smears, his thumb marked with black. His eyes trail further down the note and spot your number below your name, the ink the digits were written in still shining.

At least you leaving your number tells him there will certainly be a next time.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Julie Andrews (The Sound of Music, Mary Poppins)—Oh where to start .... I'm not sure I even know how. She's just perfection. And it's not fair I can't bring post 70s work into this, because she just gets better and better, and her drag performance in to die for. But in the era I CAN talk about, she shows she has THE RANGE. Beautiful, feisty, funny, holding her own against Christopher Plummer, Paul Newman, Rock Hudson. Oh she's luminous.

Nadira (Shree 420, Dil Apna Aur Preet Parai)— She had a blast playing the femme fatal in Indian films in the 50s. Also the costumes she wore in Shree 420 are absolutely iconic. It's important to mention that she was Jewish. She was born Farhad "Florence" Ezekiel in Baghdad to an Iraqi Jewish family. They moved to India sometime in the 1940s. The funny thing is that she originally wanted to convert to Catholicism and become a nun but joined the film industry instead as her family desperately needed money. Even though she was unfortunately typecast in femme fatale roles after playing the nightclub entertainer Maya in Shree 420, she always gave 110% to every role she was cast in. Apparently she acted in a German film as well? She was also one of the most highly paid actresses in the Indian film industry and was one of the few Indians to own a Rolls Royce.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Julie Andrews propaganda:

"She has such a simple but amazing beauty to her. Not to mention her amazing and melodic singing voice!"

"Roles like nannies and governesses can make us forget how attractive she was! A perfect combination of elegant and adorable, with the most incredible vocal range to boot!"

"Besides having one of the most amazing singing voices ever to grace the silver screen, Julie always had an understated beauty to her that wasn't always shown off on screen. But it's there nonetheless because her characters managed to pull some of the hottest men ever to grace the screen."

"The juxtaposition between carefree Maria and stern but fun Mary Poppins shows the power of the acting of this HOT VINTAGE MOVIE WOMAN"

"Charming, genteel, incredibly charismatic, beautiful, and has an angelic singing voice to boot. Her screen roles as Maria in The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins are absolutely iconic for a reason and she originated several well-known Broadway roles before those."

"the most beautiful woman 12 year old me had ever seen possibly"

"OMG OMG OMG she’s definitely been submitted before how could she NOT but!!!! I loveeee her so muchhhh rahhhh prebby!!!! cool!!!! mary poppins the beloved <33333 some people dislike it but I love jolly holiday so much because it IS a jolly holiday with Mary!!! no wonder that it’s Mary that we love!!!!!"

"I know many people who were taught in singing lessons "when in doubt, pronounce words how julie andrews would pronounce them." THATS CALLED INFLUENCE. THATS CALLED MOTHERING THOUSANDS."

Nadira:

I just submitted a whole list of golden-era Bollywood stars without whom I thought this tournament could not conscionably be considered complete BUT Nadira has got my personal vote for Hottest of the lot. She played a bunch of delicious vamp roles in her youth before graduating to being a creepy spiderlady antagonist type in middle/older age. Rare is the still in which she looks like she's NOT about to gnaw your face off. Yow!

[kairiscorner]

hiii can you write a e42 miles (or both Idc) where they been dating for some time but we still haven’t meet rio and for some reason rio doesn’t know he got a gf, so one day Rio and us meet and we talk to her and after like a while we become like friends yk and she’s like you shoudl meet my son and you can do whatever you want with that thxxxx <33333

OHHHH SURE SURE ANON !! I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS <333

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

my son would love you. — miles 42 x reader

you waited by your parents' offices, what with the two of them being doctors, they were constantly busy and had a lot on their plates. you were just scrolling through your phone as you were seated down by the waiting area, patiently listening to the ticking of the clock's hands as the seconds passed by, getting closer and closer to the end of their office hours.

your attention was completely on your phone, not really minding anything else until you heard the clatter of some medical equipment by the small trolley this female nurse with long, dark curly hair was pushing. she accidentally bumped the trolley against the wall as she made way for the patients passing by her–she muttered to herself in spanish as she hurriedly crouched down to pick it all up.

looking up from your phone, you felt bad for the woman–you decided to help her as you got to your feet and began making your way towards her. you crouched down next to her and handed her the tongue depressors and gauzes you found sprawled on the floor. you handed them to her with a gentle smile, and you soon saw her smiling back. there was something about this woman that felt reminiscent of someone dear in your life, but you couldn't figure out who or why you were drawing that connection out of nowhere, but as you were thinking, the woman had thanked you repeatedly for your help.

"it's no problem, really, i'm just glad you didn't have to clean this all up on your own." you said with a gentle voice as the woman helped you get up on your feet. the woman smiled at you as she looked at you up and down. "such a kind soul you are, really, i can't thank you enough. say, you seem a bit familiar, do you by any chance attend brooklyn visions academy?" she asked you as you nodded. her smile widened as she witnessed your affirmation. "oh! that's wonderful, my son attends that school, too. you'd love him, he's just like you. though dare i say, he's a little cranky sometimes." she says with a chuckle as you chuckled back, being reminded of a certain boy you knew who was incredibly cranky during mornings when anyone but you would talk to him.

"that'd be nice, though, i... i kinda have a boyfriend already." you told her as her smiling expression morphed into one of surprise. "oh... oh, that's okay. you don't have to think of it that way, you guys can be friends." she said as her smile returned; she introduced herself to you as rio morales, and you introduced yourself to her–she found your name very fitting for a person as beautiful and kind as you, no wonder your parents named you that name. you spoke with that woman as you waited for your parents to finish up–with the two of you sharing about yourselves, your hobbies, and a certain person you two had deemed to be very important in your lives. you enjoyed rio's company and keeping her company, and these little exchanges and late night conversations between you two would go on for a few weeks–almost a whole month–until rio had mustered up the courage to ask you and your family if you could come have dinner with them.

your parents were okay with it, they did want some time away from work anyway and more time with you; and the thought of dining at their coworker's place intrigued them, they were more than willing to come over, and so were you. as your family neared the apartment unit where rio's family lived, you heard a barrage of voices inside–three voices to be exact. rio's voice surfaced compared to the other two, whose voices were male–one of which you swore you heard before, a voice you were far too familiar with. rio spoke out in spanish to one of the males there to open the door for the guests since she was busy making sure the food wouldn't burn.

footsteps were heard from the other end as the door's mechanisms clicked and the doorknob turned, and behind the door was rio's son, the young boy who bore the surname 'morales', and... was your boyfriend. the boy greeted your family, looking up at your parents first until he turned and saw you. his face became flustered almost immediately, his eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open as the words he was meant to utter just fell flat and his voice had ultimately gone mute. his uncle from inside the unit had called out to miles, gesturing to him to let your family in, breaking him out of his trance. he stepped aside and opened the door wider for you and your family to enter, with his gaze following your own bashful and surprised one.

"good... evening to you, my mom's new friend." he said with a slight smile as you chuckled and nodded. "you too... mrs. morales' son, handsome son, might i add. she says so, they were her words, not mine." you said in a teasing manner as miles felt even more sheepish and chuckled, thinking that, out of all the people in the universe... his partner had to befriend his own mother, without either one of your parents knowing you both were more than just strangers towards each other.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @onginlove @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @solecitoszn @meowmoraless @conitagray

[kingkat12]

quelle jolie chose (marquis de gramont x reader)

WARNINGS: mentions of bodily harm, violence, intimidation, humiliation

summary: as the new owner of The Continental in Moscow, you should've known better before helping John Wick escape Russia-- what will the Marquis do when he finds out you've been in contact with the excommunicado he's been after all along?

word count: 1,714

a/n: this is chapter one of a quite long Marquis fic i'm writing, so don't you worry... there's much more to come!!! and there are some french words here and there, i am NOT french lol so do correct me if i'm wrong, and there is a vocab at the end!! enjoy<33333

I hadn't planned on facilitating John Wick's escape from The Moscow Continental-- nothing was going as planned, these days. That was truly dawning on me as the Marquis' guards gripped me harder, forcing me down on my knees in front of him as I glared up at the statuesque man before me. 

I was well-versed in the rules of the High Table, having grown up in the order. It was only recently that I had taken over the hotel, almost immediately after my father's untimely death. I had suddenly found myself at the center of the operation I had watched from afar my whole life, and had the truth about my father's work unveiled to me during a time when I should've been mourning him. It had been terribly hard, but I had gotten myself together for the sake of the hotel. For the sake of my life, my family, and our legacy.

However, nothing had been more important than the debt I owed John Wick. Funnily enough, that was exactly what had gotten me into this situation.

"You should've known better than to succumb to such foolishness," The Marquis took another step towards me, his eerily green eyes drilling into me with intimidation unlike anything I had ever seen before. "We know your father was weak when it came to Mr. Wick, but you? That you would be helping an excommunicado evade us? That was certainly unexpected from the newly instated owner of The Moscow Continental."

I hated that this was happening in my penthouse. Had I stayed at the hotel tonight to tend to business, I would've at least been sure he wouldn't kill me. The grip the guards had on me, the force in which my knees were being pressed against my newly polished wooden floors, nearly had me wincing-- but there was no way in hell I'd show him how scared I was. My gaze only hardened, trying to wry myself out of the strong hands holding me down; "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"

Letting out an exasperated sigh, the Marquis rolled his eyes. It was almost as though he was bored with me. "We have it all on video," he grumbled, unimpressed with my attempts of denial. "Him at the hotel, him in one of your cars, and videos from the shootout at Sheremetyevo airport. It seems you're good with a gun, miss... Actually, it's probably good to find out whether you have one on you right now." With a wave of his hand, the guard next to him stepped toward me, and it didn't take long before I was pressed face-down to the floor as I yelled out in protest.

With tears pressing upon my eyes, I could only curse as they managed to find the knife in my boot and continued to search me-- my eyes widened when they moved up my thighs, finding the gun I had stuffed down the side of my hip before having gotten dragged into this room, ambushed in my own home. I let out another yell, kicking with the best of my abilities, as my pants were dragged down my thighs and my hands were held tightly at my back.

I heard a hum coming from the Marquis, who had stepped away to make himself a cup of tea by the table I had set up a few weeks ago. Everything about his nonchalance angered me further-- I couldn't believe this was happening to me in the room I had set up to focus on the one thing that gave me a sense of purpose and peace; my paintings. They were hung up on the tall walls, and I caught a glimpse of Vincent admiring the one to his left.

My head pounded with fear, not used to this sort of humiliation. These feelings were new-- I knew I was the only one who could save me now that John Wick was out of the country. I looked away, pressing my forehead against the floor, still fighting my captivity. 

I didn't need to look at the well-dressed Marquis to know that he was watching the whole ordeal play out before him. Then again, I didn't know a single man who wouldn't watch a woman get undressed, unwanted or not. So there I was, splayed out on the floor of my atelier, the cold winter air of my penthouse hitting my bare thighs with my red panties on display. I wanted to cry, embarrassed beyond belief about being in my underwear in front of all of these men, but also scared like never before-- would they take it further than this? Would this be the moment where what I had dreaded all my life was about to happen?

Thankfully, my pants were quickly put on, but my favorite gun was confiscated. My cheeks were still bright red, remnants of tears pooling in my eyes as I was propped back up on my knees. "Aren't you supposed to be of nobility?" I asked, speaking through gritted teeth as my head hung between my shoulders in shame. "Did no one teach you to treat ladies with respect?" I couldn't remember a time when any other member of the order had been strip-searched-- sexist fucker. 

The Marquis let out a short chuckle, the arrogance evident even in his laugh. "What makes you believe you deserve my respect after helping John Wick? You're quite rightfully on your knees now, and hopefully, you'll start begging for your life soon. For your own sake, of course," 

"I would rather carve out my own eyes than beg you for anything," I said, a low growl building in my throat along with my anger. "And you know that you need me alive. The whole of Russia will go to war against you if you kill me, and you can count on Bratva and Rusko Roma to avenge me!"

It didn't take long for the Marquis to change his mood once more-- his pompous sneer disappeared off his face with one twitch of his eye, and within the snap of a second, he threw the cup of tea across the room, shattering the glass against the wall with a crushing sound that echoed through the halls. "You will obey!" he yelled, coming towards me with loud, booming steps. Blinded by anger, he crouched down to grab my face in his hand, his grip on my cheeks making me wince. "It doesn't matter to me who your father was or how important you think you are, because you work for me!" 

"And that is where you're wrong," I continued to struggle around the grip his guards had on me, wanting nothing more than to be freed and strike him right across the face. However, a sense of calm washed over me when I realized he wasn't here to kill me-- he couldn't. "I don't work for you. I work for the High Table. You're simply a code in the software, and right now you're pissing off the highest-ranking official in the biggest country in the world. Are you trying to wage a war on Russia, Vincent?"

The mention of his first name had him squeezing my face even harder in his large, rough hands. But this time, I didn't react-- I simply stared back at him, watching the way his pupils shrunk as he focused on me like I was prey. Up close, I could see the deep scar on his cheek, the way his lips pursed with anger, and it suddenly dawned on me that he smelled like a mix of tobacco, amber, and leather. Very manly, very expensive; enticing. 

"War," he echoed, another twitch of his eye ensuing. "Pas de souci. That is not what I want. But what I do want, however..." The Marquis let go of my face, getting up from the ground. "I want John Wick dead, along with his allies. And since I can't kill you yet, it seems I have to make use of your friendship with the excommunicado." With another wave of his hand, the guards let me go-- I pressed my palms against the floor in relief, letting in a shaky heave of air. 

I looked up at him through my brows, feeling my anger pulsing through my veins. "He's long gone, Vincent. He's not coming back to Russia,"

The Marquis hummed; "Get him back, then,"

"He won't--"

"Do it, or I'll put your mother's head on a spike!" His voice boomed through the room, leaving behind an echo that made me want to wince once more. "If he's not here within a week, I will have you bound and forced to watch me rip her limbs apart!" 

My lips parted in shock, feeling as though my body had frozen over. Everything about his threat made me terrified out of my mind-- I couldn't risk it. I knew that the Marquis was dangerous and that he could easily follow through with his words; I needed to get myself together, for the sake of my family. It took a lot of power for me to get up from the ground, balling my fists as I met his threatening gaze. I watched as he stood before me, clad in a ridiculously expensive grey-ish suit, visibly ready for any fight I might want to put up. 

I wasn't stupid-- I realized I was surrounded by his guards with no other choice than to obey. I didn't even have my gun anymore, nor did I have my trusted bodyguard; I wondered whether his body still lay lifeless in the hallway, bleeding out all over my new carpet. 

I was cornered, and I knew it. Which is why I got down on one knee and put my hand over my heart, accepting my reality; "I will be of service,"

The Marquis snickered at my pledge, clearly pleased. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes rounding out in victory at the sight of me willingly kneeling. "Quelle jolie chose," he breathed, nodding to himself. "Good. Very, very good."

I wanted nothing more than to shoot a hole through his face. I couldn't wait for the day I'd get that opportunity.

vocabulary:

pas de souci: no worries

quelle jolie chose: what a pretty thing

[ann-writes-universes]

The Jeweler (AzrielxReader)

A/N: Missed you guys <3 Not my best but its cutie.

EDIT (Jan 23.2024): Forgot to add the tag list, srry guys :,) <33333

W.C: 1.3k

Warnings: Slight mentions of smut. Angst?

Winter in Velaris was truly a marvel. As the solstice approached decorations and lights littered the buildings of The Rainbow, and the streets bustled with life as city goers made last minute preparations.

From the frost coated glass of your apartment you watched as families scurried out of the cold, and lonesome travelers slowed by shop windows to take a peek inside. From its place on the wall your clock struck seven and you tore your eyes away from the scene below. If you listened closely enough you could hear as the jeweler, Mr. Krazinski, downstairs, closed up shop for the evening and began to head home for the weekend. As he went about his Friday evening routine- you too began your own. The tea you had been nursing (now cold) was discarded and a bath was drawn full of lavender and other frilly things an herbalist nymph had convinced you to buy earlier in the day. In no time, the pale blue tiles of your bathroom were slick and steam was rolling out from beneath the door- spilling into your hall. In the living room you lit candles, cedar and pine. The fae lights bobbing on your wall were extinguished, only the crackling fireplace radiated light now. The clock struck eight then, and you moseyed towards the bath. You’d take your time there- worship yourself and make sure every inch was perfect. He’d be there by eleven after all. By the time the clock struck nine the bath had drained, bits of lavender and other botanicals slowly drying to the bottom of your tub. You had pulled out your fineries. Lotions, perfumes, wine. At ten you were dressed, a deep emerald number- frilled with lace. Here was the winter solstice tree, lit for the occasion and you standing before it. With only half an hour left you downed your glass of wine, curled up in a chair facing the door. Eleven strikes and the locks begin to turn. Within moments your small doorframe is crowded by seven feet of illyrian muscle and wing. He’s dressed simply this week- dark trousers and a thick cable knit sweater. His wings are pulled tight, remnants 

of snow melting off their taloned tips. 

“Right on time, Shadowsinger.” You purred, trailing the rim of your glass with your scarlet red finger tip. He hummed his reply, stepping into the threshold of your home and firmly relocking the door behind him- a habit he had when he stayed here. You had always found it quite charming- him locking the door as if the most dangerous creature in Velaris would not be curled up in your sheets within the hour. 

“Am I ever late, Jeweler?” 

You audibly chuckled then,a noise that had a smile tugging at the Illyiran’s lips as he settled into the couch. Jeweler was a name he had been fondly calling you for years now, ever since he found out where you resided. 

“I suppose not.”

He was looking at you then, dragging his eyes back and forth across your frame and the bits of exposed skin. If you had been naive you would have thought it was the surmounting heat of the fire making him shift in his seat. But naive you were not. You placed your wine glass on the floor as you stood and sauntered over to where he sat. Azriel placed his hands on your hips and with one firm tug you were in his lap. He chuckled as you stumbled forward- a flailing thing compared to the elegance with once you just moved. Strong arms enveloped you and the room around you seemed to fade. The troubles of the week melted away as the shadowsinger kissed his way down your neck, across your collar, and down, down, down…

You had lived a long time and experienced many things but the way Azriel made you feel was different than anything you had encountered before. With a stroke of his fingers he had you writhing and moaning gutturally, falling blissfully further away from the world around you. By the time the two of you were spent, the fire had reduced itself to cinders in the hearth. Outside- a blizzard was well into forming, snow pushing its way past the glamors which kept Velaris safe from any real damage. 

You lay splayed across the rug before the fire- an afghan he had grabbed slung across your forms. Above your heads, strong cedar beams supported the ceiling. If you squinted, spiders had made homes in the corners and were scurrying dutifully across the wood. 

“Sometimes I think about staying here for good.” Azriel mumbled from beside you, his voice halting the soft circles he had been tracing into the bare skin of your side. You let out an airy chuckle at his statement and turned your head to face him. 

“So why don’t you?” A question you knew the answer too. One he knew the answer too as well.

He seemed to mull over your words for a moment anyhow before stating, “Because Jeweler, if I saw you everyday- im afraid it would change my life.” 

You stared at him for a moment, holding his hardened gaze. He seemed serious- deathly so. But he was not, and you knew that much. Keeping the thought at hand you laughed once more and teasingly shoved at his bare chest as you stood from the floor. 

“Of course it would, Shadowsinger. You would be reminded of Mr. Krazinski’s sales everyday instead of every Friday evening.” 

Azriel audibly groaned as you pranced towards the bathroom to fetch a robe. When you returned to the living room he was tugging on his pants. 

“Why dont you let me take you out to eat next week?” Azriel offered as he slipped his sweater back on. A boot following not far behind it. Leaning in the doorframe of the hallway you smiled tightly but only offered him a shrug. 

“You know where I stand on dates, Azriel.” 

“Then don't call it a date.” He shot, frustrated that you would not cave. 

From across the room you searched his eyes, tried desperately to find something that would make you change your mind- and you… couldn't. You see, you knew who Azriel was. You had known him for the past two decades- and your bed had seen him through some very tumultuous parts of his life. Several times over the years he had tried to take it further than pleasure, but your answer had always been no. There was no denying he was an attractive male, witty, incredible in bed, and even charming when he chose to be- but most of all he was the Spymaster of Rhysand’s Court. A master of deception and torture. You lived above a jeweler, taught nighttime pottery classes, and drank chai tea. His was not a life you could keep up with. And yours was one he would tire of quickly. To go on a date with Azriel would be to open a door that you were not sure you could step through- terrified of what lay on the other side. 

“Im Sorry, Azriel. You know I-” Before you could finish he smiled tightly and nodded.

“You cant. I know.” He tugged his jacket on as he spoke and headed towards the door. He did not say goodbye as he left, merely shut the door and locked it behind him. Listening to him clunk down the tiny staircase ached every week- but this one especially so. Yet again he had confronted you with a reality you could very well possess but simply could not yet face. Flopping down onto your couch you poured the last of your long forgotten wine and stared as the liquid swirled in your glass. 

He would return next week- inevitably to ask you out yet again. And maybe it was the last of the wine souring your brain as you tossed it back- but as you curled into your bed that night, you thought that maybe next week- just maybe… you would say yes.

TAGS:

@brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @younxii @momlo @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @highladyofillyria @crimsonandwhiteprincess @purplevitagen @isthataknuck

[aurora-starwars]

Hi ! I was wondering if you could do a Neteyam x fem human reader fic where he gifts her an arrow head that’s been made into a necklace ,maybe it’s from his first successful hunt so it’s got a lot of significance to him. It could even be a way of him expressing a romantic interest in her ? 💙

There Is No Heart For Me Like Yours

Pairing: Neteyam x fem!Human!reader

Summary: Neteyam confess with an arrow head necklace from his first hunt

Word Count: 1036

Warnings: idk, ignore if i get the lore wrong :| :)

A/n: I hope this is good! Thank you for requesting! Enjoy! <33333

Masterlist

[Name] grew up on pandora, that was all she ever knew. While she was born to two scientists loyal to the Na’vi, she always felt closer to the Omatikaya clan than any of her own. Ever since she wondered out of the lab and into the forest where the Sully found her, she fast friends with the entire family.

This upbringing is something she would say she was proud of if you asked. During her upbringing, she became close to the eldest member of the Sully kids.

Neteyam.

[Name] and Neteyam did almost everything together, practicing skills like hunting, or using a bow; exploring the forest, and looking after his siblings. Some may argue they were the closest person to each other.

They were inseparable.

That is why it didn’t come as a surprise to many when the two started walking a little closer, talking to one-another a little softer, looking in each other’s eyes a little longer. The two best friends after all their lives, had fallen for each other. And everyone could see it.

Except for [Name].

Though she felt it, the tug in her chest whenever she was around Neteyam, the fast pace of her heart, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, and the pure comfort that came from spending time with her best friend, she never thought he could feel the same.

All she could think about is how she was human and knowing about how the Na’vi culture and body, asking herself how it could ever work.

Her thoughts seem irrelevant one day, as Neteyam walked in the lab. Most of the others were out at this time, so it was just the two of them in the bright sterile rooms of the labs. Neteyam was panting lightly, a sign of his rush, [Name] noted. She watched his face with a small smile as he caught his breath. In the corner of her eye she could she his hands moving, fidgeting with something within his long, thin blue hands. This was much unlike him, Neteyam didn’t fidget often, not unless he was nervous. And he was only nervous when his siblings were in trouble.

“Neteyam?” [Name] began, grabbing hold of his hand in attempt to ground him.

“Are you alright, are your siblings alright?” [Name] continued, her words coming out increasingly frantic as her thoughts went to the possibility of his siblings in danger.

Neteyam chuckled, realizing she had interpreted his nervous energy as something more of an emergency situation.

“No, no. Everything is alright, my siblings are fine.” Neteyam spoke in almost perfect Na’vi, smiling down at her as she seem to relax.

“Alright, thats good. So then why are you here?” [Name] smiled, her eyebrows furrowing in question.

“Can’t I visit my best friend?” He teased, gazing softly into her eyes.

[Name] smiled, “Right, that’s why you rushed all the way here?”

Neteyam only laughed, heat rushing to his cheeks as he realized he’d been caught.

“And of course you can visit your best friend. You always do anyway.” [Name] rolled her eyes playfully, smiling at Neteyam once again.

Neteyam took a deep breath in, deciding for what felt like the millionth time whether or not he should go through with this. After a moment, he let out his breath and looked into [Name]’s eyes.

“[Name], I- you are my best friend-”

“As we have established.” [Name] smirked, cutting him off.

“Right! And we have been friends since I can remember…” Neteyam trailed off.

“Yes we have,” [Name] offered, sensing the hesitation in him.

“And…” Neteyam looked down at his hands, where he rolled his gift between his fingers.

“I want you to have this.” Neteyam held out his hands, palms facing up revealing what looks like an arrow head tied to a necklace string.

[Name] let out a small gasp, her eyes quickly flicking from Neteyam’s eyes to the gift in his palm. While [Name] didn’t know the full significance of this gift, she knew that this was an important part of Neteyam and their friendship. You don’t just go around giving your friends gifts of arrow head necklaces.

Beaming, [Name] gently took the necklace from Neteyam’s hands. As she admired it slowly, Neteyam took the time to admire her.

“Neteyam,” [Name] spoke breathlessly, looking up at him. “This is so nice! Thank you so much.” She continued before looking back down at the necklace in her hands.

“It’s the arrow head from my first hunt.” He admitted.

[Name]’s head shot up, two links in her head connecting, like pieces of a puzzle coming into place.

“From your first hunt… But that means.” [Name] hesitating, smiling softly to herself.

Part of her couldn’t believe it, that this was absolutely not happening. The other part of her was absolutely over the moons. She never thought this day would come.

Neteyam was worried for a moment seeing as she indicated no sign of a reaction, but then he saw the smile on her face as she looked up at him and all of his worries flew out the window.

“[Name], I think you are so wonderful, you have been there my entire life and I hope you are there for the rest of it. You are the most wonderful human beings I have ever met-”

“Slim pickings…” [Name] muttered to herself, trying to hold back the laugh at her own joke.

Neteyam rolled his eyes affectionately, “You know what I mean, but I really do hope we spend the rest of our lives together.” Neteyam smiled at her earnestly.

“Neteyam, you have no idea how much I have wanted to hear that.” [Name] quickly spoke before pulling him in a tight hug.

A hug to which Neteyam reciprocated immediately, a big smile taking over his face. Neteyam pulled her back to look into her eyes. Unspoken words passed between them as the smiled before pulling each other in for a kiss.

The kiss told all of the things they couldn’t speak themselves. Longing touches, unspoken promises, hopes and dreams for their future. Through all of it, they just hoped they would never be separated, as they almost never had before. And they prayed that Eywa would bond them for life.

A/n: Thank you for reading!! Let me know if you wanna be in the avatar taglist!

Master-list

Tag list:

@nyotamalfoy

[signanothername]

When the family life gets a little too rough and you scroll through tumblr to see your favorite artist’s work for the 3rd time today and to thank them for posting this lovely art that makes you feel better.

I genuinely love your art. Your art has inspired me to try and draw killer even though he looks bad because fuck anatomy, dude (in a gen neutral way).

I love you(/p) and your art so much, keep doing what you’re doing, stay strong, and enjoy the rest of your day and night. You don’t have to respond to this if you don’t feel like it, but you’ve made my life a hell of a lot better ever since I found your art./gen. 🖤

-middle child anon

(-p.s, don’t forget to eat and drink something)

Ooohhhhh I literally don’t even know what to say oh my goooddd my heart 😭❤️🌷✨

Like you have zero idea how much your ask means like genuinely, cause literally the only reason I post is just to make people smile or to make someone’s day

I love you too! /p I’m so so happy to know my art inspires and makes you feel better, and I genuinely hope i keep delivering <33333

And will do! You just made my day thank you so much

[ghostlychief]

First of all Hi! I so far have loved your other ghost fics and can’t wait to read more!

Secondly, I was wondering if maybe you could write something where the reader and ghost are like married (possibly have a child but that’s optional) and the 141 find out that ghost has a secret family and sees him being so soft with you and are just in huge shock (especially soap)?

Again love your other writing and completely understand if you don’t have the time to do this! Hope you have a nice day!😊

HELLO!! thank you so much for reading my other works, I'm glad you enjoyed reading them <33333 it always means a lot when someone says they love reading the fics you wrote, so thank you again. I hope you enjoy what i threw together for your request!!

-Lee

--

Phantom Pain

pairing: oneshot; ghost x reader

warnings; none really

wc: 1.1k+

--

Ghost rarely ended up in the hospital. If he did, you knew it was bad.

--

To task force 141, Ghost was an anomaly, an enigma. No one really could crack his code or figure him out. Even though he has been on the team for over seven years. The closest anyone has gotten to him was his team member Soap, but even then, Soap barely knew him.

For Godsakes, even his profile didn’t have a picture of him, it was just a blank spot where his face should be.

His teammates really only saw his eyes. They were a deep blue like the ocean. Turbulent, but held all the cards Ghost held. If you figured out what his eyes were conveying, you figured out him.

Looking back at it now, no one ever figured out Ghost, or what his azure eyes were saying. No one on 141, at least.

--

This mission was supposed to be an easy one. In and out. No casualties, no injuries. But things never seem to go to plan. Typical for task force 141.

Even though the team didn’t suffer any casualties, they did suffer quite a few injuries, Ghost being in the worst shape of the lot.

He had two gun shot wounds and a couple of lacerations on his arms and legs. Could be worse, you guess. But honestly looking at the state of him now, you would be shocked he wasn’t already dead, laying in a casket.

This is where you come in. The secret wife, partner of Ghost, aka Simon.

He always kept you hidden away from his world, never wanting to tarnish you red. But sometimes you had to step into his vicious world, tending to him in ways you never wished you had to. You didn’t mind the deep color maroon though. Maybe that’s why you found yourself drawn to Simon, like a moth to a flame.

It usually ended up with you and Simon in your shared home, you tending to his wounds in any way you could. For some reason the man hated hospitals, and avoided them at all costs, so you always tried your best to fix him up.

So, when you got the call from your local hospital that your husband was admitted and currently being operated on, you knew it was bad.

You immediately dropped what you were doing and drove fast to the hospital, hoping to catch Simon right out of surgery.

Your timing was near perfect, because by the time you arrived, and talked to the nurse’s station, he was already tucked away in his room, fast asleep but breathing.

That’s all that mattered - that he was breathing. Slow and steady.

You pull up a chair and take his large hand into yours, already noticing the usual warmth is lost, which makes you grasp his hand even tighter, hoping to transfer some of your warmth to him.

--

It’s hours later when you find yourself waking up. Your neck is sore and cricks as you lift your head. The bright lights of the hospital room cloud your vision for a second before your eyes adjusts.

You notice that you’re still holding Simon’s hand. You must have fallen asleep, your head halfway resting on his forearm and the bed.

When you fully come to, you notice Simon is awake as well, and he’s looking at you with a tenderness you only wish to see every time he comes home to you.

You now notice his thumb is tenderly stroking your knuckles, and he gives your hand a squeeze every once in a while, to signal to you that yes, he’s here, and alive. He’s alright.

“Hey baby.” Your voice carries across the room, travels its short way to Simon, who’s once again looking at you adoringly. His lips upturn slightly, something you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t solely focused on your husband.

“Before you ask, I’m alright.” His voice is soft, as if he’s trying to pacify you, quell you by the best of his abilities. Even though he’s the one who’s injured, he doesn’t want you to hurt.

He knows you hate it when he has a mission. He pictures you pacing around your shared home, willing him to come back to you, and he hates himself for it.

You let out a sigh, all too familiar with the scene playing out before you.

Now it’s your turn to squeeze his hand.

“I don’t know how many times I can watch you do this to yourself, Simon. Every time you go away, I always prepare myself that you won’t be coming back. And I just- I don’t want to think like that anymore.”

Simon shifts on the bed, “Come here.”

Even though you’re concerned about his injuries, you still settle yourself on the bed with Simon, his arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you down to his chest.

An accustomed position that you’ve missed recently. He’s been gone too long.

His familiar scent pulls you even further into him, and you bask in his warm embrace, only hoping it won’t be ripped away from you anytime soon.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, ok?” You feel him kiss the top of your head, and you tighten your arm that’s wrapped around his torso.

“Besides, you can’t get rid of me that easily, bug.”

 You can feel the smirk that draws up his lips, and you mentally roll your eyes at his statement. He was always so flippant about his life, yet you still can’t help but love him dearly.

You also know he purposefully played the ‘term of endearment’ card, which he knew would make you go easy on him.

You hum against his chest, “We’ll see about that. You know, after you get home, recovered and healthy.”

You just feel his rumble of laughter, and you smile against him. Glad that his humor hasn’t left him despite all the tragedies he’s seen throughout his career. He leaves another kiss atop your head, and his hand comes up to stroke your arm while you stroke his stomach.

You’re so caught up in your moment with Simon, that you don’t notice a pair of familiar light blue eyes watching you both through the glass window of the hospital room door.

They’re eyes that only hold curiosity, wishing to know what they are witnessing.

The owner of said eyes slips away before you or Ghost notice him, and he figures he’ll just have to causally bring it up to his colleague the next time he sees him at the base.

He imagines he’ll say something like, “Didn’t know you had a soft side, Ghosty.” He then pictures the punch Ghost would aim at his bicep, already feeling the phantom pain.

--

Ghost Masterlist

[zapreportsblog]

Girl I think we all need some poly ghostface where stu and billy are teasing the reader and talking about them like their not there, "i dont know...maybe if they asked ever so nicely for it, they would get what they want..." ;)) it can be smut or not idm. Love ur writing so much <33333

❝highschool detective on the case❞

✭ pairing : poly ghostface x reader

✭ fandom : scream

✭ summary : (y/n) is the new girl who just moved up from (hometown) she has a crazy fetish when it comes to serial killers having taken it upon herself to even solve unsolved murder cases - which she gets from her father. He was the top detective in his unit after all. Upon hearing about this ghostface killer she dives into detective mood grabbing their attention in the process

✭ authors note : I think we all are borderline psychotic when it comes to these two nibwits also thank you for requesting and I’m glad you’re enjoying my works so far :)

✭ slashers masterlist

Woodsboro High School buzzed with the energy of a new school year, and (Y/N) had just arrived, ready to start fresh in this unfamiliar town. As she stepped onto the campus, her presence stood out like a stark contrast to the other students.

She wore a leather trench coat that fell just past her thighs, giving her an enigmatic aura. Low-rise washed-out jeans hugged her hips, revealing a tattoo on her lower stomach. Her hair was styled in a pixie cut, and dark shades shielded her eyes, giving her an almost FBI agent-like mystique. Chunky boots completed her unconventional ensemble, and a crop top black vest shirt adorned with a rhinestone skull on the breast part added an edgy touch.

As she walked through the courtyard, students couldn't help but stare and whisper amongst themselves, wondering who this mysterious new girl was and what her story might be. (Y/N), however, seemed oblivious to the attention, her mind focused on something else entirely.

Reclining on a bench, she delved into the contents of her notes. In her lap lay a case file, weathered by time and use, filled with photographs, notes, and articles. It was the unsolved murder case from her hometown that her father, a dedicated detective, had entrusted to her once the trail had gone cold.

(Y/N) was determined to find answers and bring closure to the grieving families back home, even if it meant uprooting her life and starting anew in Woodsboro. The gravity of the task weighed heavily on her, and her fierce dedication to solving the case had become her driving force.

Throughout the day, students at Woodsboro High had been attempting to strike up conversations with (Y/N), but her terse responses and preoccupied demeanor made it clear that she had little interest in making friends. She was on a mission, and she had no time for idle chitchat.

At lunch, (Y/N) found a quiet spot to sit alone, her case file still in her lap as she reviewed the evidence once more. Lost in thought, she didn't notice Stu, one of her classmates, approaching from behind. He playfully wrapped his arms around her shoulders and said, "Now, what do we have here?"

(Y/N) stiffened at the unexpected contact but quickly composed herself. She turned to glance at Stu, taking in his appearance before responding with a raised eyebrow. "Aren't you a bit too old to not know about personal hygiene?"

Stu, looking slightly offended, discreetly sniffed himself and made a face. "Hey, I don't stink!"

Tatum, Stu's girlfriend, along with her friends Sidney and Sidney's boyfriend, also joined the group, curious about the interaction. Randy, another student, chimed in, intrigued by (Y/N)'s mysterious presence. "What's that you're reading?" he asked, peering at her lap.

In her usual blunt tone, (Y/N) replied, "A case."

The group exchanged puzzled glances, clearly taken aback by her straightforward response. Stu was the first to regain his composure, a mischievous grin forming on his face. "A case, huh? You're a detective or something?"

(Y/N) didn't provide any additional information, her eyes returning to the contents of the file. She was used to curious glances and questions, but her focus remained unwavering on her mission to uncover the truth.

Randy's curiosity remained unabated, and he leaned in closer, asking, "So, what's the case about?"

(Y/N) let out a sigh and put her notes aside, her expression serious as she shared a glimpse of her purpose. "I'm trying to solve a cold case from my hometown. It involves a young woman who was violently beaten and tortured."

Tatum raised an eyebrow, looking puzzled. "But if it's a cold case, why are you trying to solve it now?"

(Y/N) shrugged, her dedication evident in her reply. "It's just a hobby I enjoy."

Billy, who had been listening quietly, couldn't help but become more intrigued. He leaned in with a casual demeanor and asked, "So, you're into things like that, huh?"

(Y/N) met his gaze with a cool, unwavering stare. "Yup. I was raised watching the dangers of the world and even experiencing it."

The group fell silent for a moment, absorbing (Y/N)'s cryptic response. Her presence had added an unexpected layer of mystery to their lunchtime gathering, and they couldn't help but wonder about the secrets she held and the motivations driving her pursuit of a cold case.

Sidney, feeling a twinge of awkwardness, couldn't help but blurt out, "What kind of experiences are you talking about?" But she quickly realized the insensitivity of her question and immediately apologized, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

(Y/N) simply shrugged off the awkward moment, her demeanor unphased by Sidney's unintended bluntness. "No worries," she replied calmly before elaborating on her past. "I've seen quite a bit, to be honest. When I was three, I watched an unsub murder my mom right in front of me."

Sidney's eyes widened in shock, regret for her earlier question apparent on her face.

(Y/N) continued, her tone steady. "Then, when I was thirteen, I was kidnapped as part of a blackmail attempt against my father. He's a detective, you see. Since then, I've been to all sorts of crime scenes, helping him with his work."

Stu couldn't help but comment, "Wow, that's dark."

Billy, mumbling under his breath, added, "Wicked."

(Y/N) acknowledged their reactions with a nonchalant nod, as if her experiences were just a matter-of-fact part of her life. She had learned to cope with the darkness she had witnessed and embraced her role as an amateur detective, eager to make sense of the chaos around her.

Breaking the now oncoming silence (Y/N) decides to ask her own question, “So what’s fun around here?” Tatum taking it upon herself decides to reply back whiles filing her mails, “Not much honestly, though shopping is always on the table.”

But (Y/N) wasn't interested in the usual teenage pastimes. She leaned in, her eyes gleaming with curiosity, and clarified, "No, no, no! I'm talking murder cases here, blonde. Anything good?"

Randy, who had already labeled her as a weirdo, rolled his eyes, muttering, "Oh, no, not another weirdo."

(Y/N) couldn't help but give Randy a proud smirk, as if she embraced that title with pride. Sidney and Tatum, perhaps sensing the direction the conversation was about to take, excused themselves from the group.

Stu, always eager for attention, chimed in, "You know, Sidney's mom's murder was pretty wild. She was having an affair, and the guy must've gone crazy and slaughtered her."

(Y/N) listened intently, a crazed look in her eyes, and responded, "Yeah, now there's the good stuff. Tell me more."

Billy, with a hint of excitement in his voice, added, "There was also the murder of those two students not too long ago. It was pretty brutal."

"A murder, you say?" (Y/N) leaned in with an unsettling grin, her curiosity piqued. "Tell me about it."

Stu, relishing the chance to share a gruesome tale, went into chilling detail about the murder. "Well, my ex, Cassie, she was slaughtered. Her body was found strung up by her own organs in her front yard. It was... brutal. And her boyfriend, Derek, was found duct-taped to a lawn chair and drowned in the pool at her house. His intestines were out too."

(Y/N)'s eyes sparkled with a disturbing excitement as she listened to the horrifying description. She pressed for more information, asking, "Any leads on the killer?"

The boys exchanged glances and shook their heads. "No, not really," Billy admitted.

Randy added, "And Sidney, she was attacked a few nights after that. She said the killer was masked and wore what looked like a ghost mask."

(Y/N)'s grin widened at the mention of the masked killer, her fascination with the macabre evident. It seemed that the darker the story, the more it intrigued her. The group had unwittingly drawn her into their web of murder mysteries, and little did they know that her relentless pursuit of the truth would soon unearth secrets that would put them all in grave danger.

“Seems this town just got a little more interesting,'" (y/n) remarked with an eerie grin as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. She gathered her things and excused herself, leaving Randy to his own devices as he followed suit and left.

Now, only Stu and Billy remained alone at the table. Billy's eyes darkened, and a sinister glint danced in them as he leaned in closer to Stu. He asked in a hushed tone, "Should we go after her tonight?"

Stu, hyped up by the disturbing stories and (Y/N)'s unnerving interest in murder cases, couldn't help but share Billy's excitement. He replied with an eager grin, "Hell yeah."

(Y/N) returned home after a long day at Woodsboro High, finding a note from her dad, the detective, explaining that he would be back late, as usual. With a resigned sigh, she decided to unwind, slipping into comfortable sweatpants and a tank top.

She settled onto the couch, surrounded by an array of open books, articles, and her laptop, her research materials for delving into the recent murders that had captured her fascination. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the soft glow of her laptop screen.

Hours passed as she scoured the internet for any information about the brutal murders that had taken place in Woodsboro. (Y/N)'s determination was unwavering, her thirst for answers driving her to dig deeper into the dark mysteries of the town.

The hours dragged on, and fatigue began to creep in. Despite her best efforts, the weight of exhaustion overcame her, and (Y/N) eventually drifted into a fitful nap on the couch, her mind still haunted by the gruesome details of the unsolved murders that had consumed her thoughts.

(Y/N) woke up late at night, the room cast in darkness except for the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. She glanced at the clock, which read 10:00 PM. Her dad still hadn't returned home, but she was used to his late hours.

Feeling hungry, she decided to order some food delivery to keep her going while she continued her research. As she dialed her order, anticipation for a late-night snack grew. She gave the delivery address and hung up, ready to return to her work.

Just as she settled back into her research, her phone rang, startling her. She picked it up, and at first, the voice on the other end played it off as a wrong number. But then they began asking personal questions.

"So, do you have a boyfriend?" the voice inquired.

(Y/N), her curiosity piqued, retorted playfully, "Why? You trying to ask me out?"

The person on the other line let out a smirk, their tone suggestive as they asked again, "So, do you have a boyfriend?"

(Y/N) decided to tease them with an equally suggestive response, "Perhaps." She was intrigued by the mysterious caller and couldn't help but engage in their unusual late-night conversation.

As (Y/N) found herself engaged in this mysterious late-night conversation, her curiosity only grew when the person on the other end suggested, "Let's play a game."

"What kind of game?" she asked, her tone laced with intrigue.

The voice on the phone responded, "I want to know your favorite scary movie."

(Y/N) didn't hesitate to share her interests. "Well, I really enjoyed 'The Craft.' It's a fascinating blend of witchcraft, teenage rebellion, and a dash of horror. The story revolves around a group of high school girls who form a coven and use their newfound powers for personal gain. But as their abilities grow, so does the darkness that haunts them. It's a captivating exploration of the consequences of wielding supernatural abilities and the complexities of female friendship."

She paused briefly before continuing, "Another one I really liked is 'Thinner.' It's based on a Stephen King novel and tells the story of a morbidly obese lawyer who's cursed by a gypsy and begins to inexplicably lose weight at an alarming rate. The film delves into themes of karma, guilt, and the unintended consequences of our actions. The slow, agonizing transformation of the main character is both terrifying and thought-provoking."

(Y/N) went on to describe the intricate details of both films, her passion for horror movies evident in her animated discussion. She shared her insights on the characters, the plot twists, and the underlying themes, displaying an impressive knowledge of the genre. The mysterious caller on the other end seemed intrigued by her enthusiasm.

The person on the other end of the line, after inquiring about her favorite scary movies, pressed for her name. (Y/N), however, wasn't so quick to reveal her identity. "Why should I tell you my name when you haven't told me yours?" she countered.

A sinister chuckle came through the phone before the voice replied, "Because I want to know the name of who I'm watching right now. Nice top, by the way."

(Y/N), far from being scared, merely rolled her eyes and glanced out the window behind her. She smirked into the darkness and said, "So, this is the infamous killer of Woodsboro? Would've expected better, but then again, you're just a small-town killer."

The voice on the other end of the line grew audibly offended, and they began to issue chilling threats. They spoke of slicing her open, just like they had done to Cassie, and leaving her hanging for her father to find. The threats were meant to intimidate, to strike fear into (Y/N)'s heart.

However, she remained surprisingly unshaken. Instead of cowering, she chuckled, a mix of defiance and amusement in her voice. "Give it your best shot," she taunted, her bravado unwavering. "I'm not one to back down from a challenge."

The late-night conversation had taken a menacing turn, and (Y/N) was about to find herself entangled in a perilous game of wits and survival with a cunning and ruthless adversary.

The next day at school, (Y/N) arrived with an unusual cheeriness about her. Stu and the rest of her newfound friends couldn't help but notice her upbeat demeanor, and Stu was the first to comment, asking, "What's got you so cheery today?"

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, (Y/N) replied, "Oh, you won't believe this. I've got video footage of Ghostface trying to break into my house."

The revelation sent shockwaves through the group, their eyes widening in disbelief. "No way," they chimed in unison.

(Y/N), however, seemed nonchalant as she waved off their amazement. "Yes way," she affirmed, laughing it off as if it were just another everyday occurrence.

Randy couldn't help but express his surprise. "I'm surprised you're not dead," he remarked, his tone laced with incredulity.

(Y/N) shrugged, her explanation casual. "My dad had our houses revamped before we moved here. Custom locks, gateways, and cameras. No one gets in unless they want them to. It's like living in a fortress."

As the group absorbed this information, (Y/N) decided to take a teasing turn. She smirked and declared, "Oh, this is going to be fun. I haven't been hunted like this in a while."

The reaction from her friends was mixed, to say the least. Most were creeped out by her unusual enthusiasm, especially given the recent unsettling events. But Stu and Billy, the true culprits behind the Ghostface mask, couldn't help but exchange sly glances. Their nefarious plan was in motion, and (Y/N) had just unknowingly stoked the flames of their sinister game.

Billy couldn't resist adding a chilling remark, his tone laced with dark humor, "I don't know... maybe if they asked ever so nicely for it, they would get what they want."

“What’s the suppose to mean?” (Y/n) remarks and billy shrugs it off “Who knows maybe the killer is somewhere watching you, after all you can never be too careful.”

[darlingpwease]

My lovely wife you giving me ideas and thinking about imagining Yandere and omega Leon how breed bull he looks

hihi souffle~!!! <333 kith kith<33333

king's favourite

♡ unhealthy behaviour, animalistic behaviour, alternative universe, family making, mention of violence + blood, he has not yet lost powers, forced relationship if you squint, reincarnation themes if you squint; transmigrator!reader (or just isekaid), alpha-like beta!reader

♡ breeding / unprotected sex, rough treatment, nipples play (g.), blood play (r.), womb fucking if you squint, cum inflation if you squint, (spicy & messy)

How did they teach you there? "Get into the situation, understand and forgive"? "There is a spark of goodness in everyone"? "You just have to be patient"?

"We have to wait and everything will get better"?

You waited — many times — and even when you found yourself here, in your own body with several modified features; thought "at last I will live well, nothing is scary after death, I can start again," clinging to the chance to survive is not out of desperation at all, but from the fact that you have already seen similar situations before, using your skills and knowledge mixed with the underdevelopment of the surrounding world.

You don't know what happened here, — you don't want to know — but you're sure it makes you feel better.

After all, you, prepared by the modern world and by some incomprehensible effect caused by changes in your body, are ready for anything as long as your blood flows in your body. Undoubtedly, it is unusual for you in this new world, with these 'alphas', 'betas', 'omegas', only some deltas and gammas are missing, and already five letters from the greek alphavite have been collected, but you get used to it.

You're really getting used to it.

You are lucky to be an unremarkable beta, without this strange smelling dynamics, with these incomprehensible exchanges of smells and even stranger features — like a knot??? womb??? bite glands??? — and questionable courtship.

But no one seems to fall in love with betas.

And then you met him.

If you knew in advance that the betas, it turns out, are also quite attractive for some reason, then you would run as fast as you could from him and from his subordinates — but then you really thought that nothing would happen, "the worst thing is death". And it's not that what happened to you, when violet eyes collided with you and shone like billions of stars, was worse than death.

“Finally.”

But when the only thing you can do is agree, knowing perfectly well and seeing that your refusal means nothing if the 'king of Dark Fall' chose you. In the end, you were nothing more than a charming pet that was chosen from thousands of the same, probably even more beautiful and exciting — but for some reason it was on your figure that the purple eyes stopped and froze, with dilated feline pupils, when a strong slender hand grabbed your wrist, not letting you move away, in front of eyes an equally shocked environment, scorching at you rather than at him, asking themselves 'why are you' than 'what does his behavior mean'.

“Leon,” — he whispers hoarsely, squeezing your hands, not trying to penetrate your personal space, but also not letting you move away, glaring with such a burning gaze that your heart is beating loudly in throat from noisy fear and dull excitement caused rather by adrenaline and that strange aura of power around his body that you can't not react. — “My name. Don't forget it. You're mine now — I chose you.”

From his words, head is slightly dizzy, — or is it from a strange smell that surrounds his body, as if shouting to you that you have a handsome strong mate in front of you? — but you can only nod, realizing that resistance will lead to nothing. You have often seen this in fanfiction, you know what to do — and although this is not a dating simulator or anything like that, you are sure that the actions are not too different.

His eyes dig into your every feature, as if trying to get under your skin, while his hands imperiously but gently squeeze yours, intertwining long fingers with yours, restlessly squeeze and unclench.

A handsome and young aristocrat takes a person from the street as a lover? Isn't this the plot of Cinderella?

You must even be 'lucky' — food, bed and a handsome powerful person who seems to be passionate about you and enough free time. Even if you really are nothing more than a pet, doesn't that mean that you only need to perform your role well and manage your limited time wisely?

You must even be lucky — you think thoughtfully when blood drops on your cheeks.

Someone else's blood, of course — you are too precious; a couple of drops that unintentionally reach your skin while any sounds get stuck in throat. Not that your role is anything more special than a simple 'pet' — but even so, the reaction seems... excessive.

“I'll rip out the hands of anyone who does that again.”

It's cold in the hall, unusually cold, while the blood drips down, staining the floor, forcing the servants to step back restlessly, not even trying to wipe something or help.

“Is that clear? I don't like to repeat myself in such things.”

It's not the right time to ask about a walk — and from the looks of the servants, you can be sure that none of them will even try to approach you in the near future.

“I know you don't remember much...”

LEON begins in a soft, almost timid voice when you squeeze his thigh, climbing between them, and he allows, pushing them apart, obeying every movement and desire, even if you see how his ears, face and chest burn with blush, feeling your respectfully shameless touch.

“But, actually... I... we...”

He hesitates, as if trying to figure out how best to convey this idea to you — but when you gently rub his swollen hard nipple, watching his mouth, LEON blushes even more, covering his face with his hand, while the second grabs your wrist, forcing you to leave it on him.

“... Do you like what you see?”

Purple eyes shine like a cat's in the dimness of the room — his body is soft but strong, with elastic slender legs wrapped around your hips in an almost unbearably tight grip, and sensitive soft skin that easily trembles under your fingers, squeezing it until red prints remain. His purring comes from the chest itself, spreading through the body in hot waves, leaving dryness in the throat from the sight of his full arousal and intoxicating delight of his face, when omega's hands grab the sheet, with wide eyes and rounded mouth watching his smooth belly fill up, unable to see how you push, drawlingly teasing unbearably unbearable unbearably slow, not at all like before, as if his whole body was dependent on you, demanding more, stronger, until everything inside him was torn and destroyed, gnawed to the heart that beating in ears from drunken delight with spots in front of eyes.

His whole body is nothing more than a taut string under you, allowing you to dive deep inside, feeling a strong squeeze and hearing soft sweet purring mixed with quiet submissive moans — only to find yourself locked in a steel grip with strong legs that do not even allow you to move even a millimeter, leaving you deeply buried in the most intimate part that he can bare for you, eager to become as vulnerable and naked as it was before. His whole body is nothing more than a temple that longs to be destroyed, defeated, claimed, and when his pupils dilate like the darkness around, leaving only the noise of breathing and the sounds of contact not just bodily, but something more intimate, he looks not like a 'cute shy omega', but something that it is ready to devour you and make you a part of itself — or to become a part of you, but it is absolutely not ready to remain separate.

“D-Do– you– l-like– what you–... feel?”

His body is nothing more than a cozy nest; the perfect place where you can leave the puppies, bury the hot seed with them deep inside, filling the pliable, ripe, fertile womb with your thrusts which are echoed by the pounding of heart in your ears, nuzzling his so sweet-smelling neck, the aroma of which is mixed with the smell of blood on your back caused by claws scratching skin and looking for even more more more smell, stronger, faster, more, don't stop, just don't stop — his tongue burns like poison, licking intoxicating blood in return for the way you drive into his fertile ready-made body, eager to be breed, fertilized, rounded from your puppy, future king of Dark Fall, who will find a place in his body in need of this.

His nails scratch your hands when his stomach is rounded again - not the same soft, but elastic, easily taking everything inside when you gently lift up, assessing his body, wet with juice, semen and sweat, while tears are still flowing over his beautiful face, with a perfectly rounded mouth and trembling hips, not trying to hide none of the embarrassingly sweet traces that leave a strange taste in your mouth - especially at the sight of his thin pink lips with traces of your blood that he licks, looking into your eyes with his drugged, but aware of everything, for the first time so aware of everything for all the time that you have seen him.

“Why do you... didn't bite? Neck...”

Bites on the nipple — hickeys on the neck — prints on the waist — nail marks on the thigh — bare clean neck wet with sweat.

“... Mine?”

The pupils look steadily into yours, as if not expecting this question, and you can see how he seems to wake us up from a drunken delirium, realizing everything around.

His chest rises and falls several times, as if only now LEON realized what had happened, and a glance at the mog is thrown at the sticky wet mess between his thighs.

But when he looks up again, you don't see anything there but frenzied devotion.

“Yours — and you're mine.”

A bite from something seems too right and true — just like the pulsating mark of his teeth on your neck.

And although you are a beta, — you do not have the same ability to fertilize as an alpha, — the sight of his belly filled with you excites some base feelings in you.

[demoniccrowz]

whats the. emeralds one about!!! the one wip with tommy and sbi :33333

I just spent like ten minutes looking for this print to make sure I was ranting properly about it before I decided I literally remember it fine so anyway. Sir, we don’t take emeralds. (Tommy/SBI)

the basis: Tommy works the night shift at a bakery near the edge of the city. Between the hours of 12 am and 4 am, the only customers that come in are cryptids and monsters from the nearby forest. They pay very, very well. The bakery is probably run by Niki, though she’d be a background character, and probably not show up like. At all.

writing this after I wrote the other stuff: I accidentally wrote the first draft of what would probably be drug out into two chapters. It’s under the cut. My bad. Designs (also under cut) are subject to change.

Um, first night he meets Wilbur, a man with no eyes who tries to pay with an emerald. Second night, nothing happens. He wonders if he hallucinated everything. The third night, he meets Philza, a man with black wings and bird talons, who pays like a normal person but tips him a crow feather. He’s confused, but the crow feather looks nice. Someone told him crow feathers are bad luck, but… the feather gives him a warm feeling. Fourth night, Philza comes back. He seems very happy to see that Tommy has stuck the crow feather behind his ear. Philza tips Tommy several more feathers. Fifth night, he meets Techno, a man with tusks and pig hooves, who pays like normal but tips him a golden doubloon. I dunno, he probably gets run out of town at some point, once someone sees the crow feathers. Philza, Wilbur, and Techno rescue him from the mob. They steal him away. Found family occurs.

Tommy moved to the city a few weeks ago, and started hearing the stories almost immediately. Everyone he talked to warned him away from the woods, with tales of what happened to people who stayed out too late or who walked near the woods after dark. The city seems to almost have a curfew, though it isn’t explicitly stated anywhere Tommy can find. Yet, like clockwork, at 11:30 the streets are deserted. The busses don’t run. People are inside, whether at their homes or somewhere else. Businesses stay open, sometimes, but no one enters or leaves. The entire city holds its breath for five hours. Then, at 4:30, it’s once again bustling. Tommy doesn’t believe the stories, of course. It’s just superstition. He signs up to work the night shift (sometimes dubbed the cursed shift) at a bakery in desperate need of workers. It’ll be easy, he decides, to take the shift when there would be no customers.

Yet… there were customers. The first night, a man with tinted glasses and a brown trench coat walks in and orders a few loaves of bread. Tommy goes about his routine normally, until the man hands him a green gem for payment. He stares at it in shock, trying to tell if the man had just handed him an ACTUAL EMERALD. “Sir? We- we don’t take… emeralds.” Tommy looks up at the man, who takes the gem and removes his glasses the squint at it.

He has no eyes.

The man laughs, putting the gem back into his pocket. “Of course, of course. My mistake.” He gives Tommy a fifty dollar bill, grabbing his bag of things and leaving before Tommy can give him his change. Tommy stares after him. Maybe there is something to the rumors, he thinks as he stares at his shaking hands.

He tries to brush it off.

[bridgetotheskyyy]

chapter seven.

masterlist

Chapter summary: Things have finally come to a head for you, but you might just have an opportunity to redeem yourself and save your family from certain doom. Somehow. Someway.

Chapter warnings: blood, violence

Word count: 5.9k

A/N: Here's chp 7 and sorry for the wait! I had a lot of fun with this one <33333

Read on ao3 here:

You opened your eyes and found yourself in the heavens. 

Clouds everywhere, coasting by you, crowding you, supporting you. You sat up and swung your head around. Clouds in your head waned as the last few hours seeped through. Gaara … Gaara! You stood on wobbly legs, where you expected to tumble back to earth, and were stunned when your feet hit something solid. 

“Gaara!” You cried. “Temari! Hahaoya!”

Silence echoed back. Your mind reeled with the absurdity of your surroundings. Your gaze darted to and fro, desperate for familiarity. For something. Nothing. Only quiet clouds and light breeze. Where were you? What happened?

… Were you dead?

You placed a hand over your heart; no, a dead body wouldn’t contain a beating heart. What was —

A sharp gust of wind from behind. You shrieked and spun to see what it was. Nothing. 

But you were not alone.

“Hello?” You called out.

Your ears tuned in to a new sound: growling.

You retreated, somehow, into the lilac clouds as something emerged from the ones crested around you like hills. You shrieked and cowered as it came. It rose, rose, rose, until its head appeared and bowed to observe you. Lapis lazuli scales caught the sun, momentarily blinding you. Whiskers roped down like a mustache around sharp, pointed teeth.

You were not a fool. There could be no mistake: a dragon.

It appraised you in silence with its ancient eyes. “So,” it spoke at last, its voice deep and guttural, rumbling the world, “this is Boutoku’s descendant.”

Again you cowered. “What is this?” You asked, trembling. “What’s happening?”

“You presented the blood of Goro to my gates,” the dragon said. “In doing so, you requested entry into the oasis. My oasis.”

You remembered the tales: the first village head, Goro, had performed tasks for a god. 

A dragon. A dragon god.

“You are the god of the oasis,” You murmured.

“Very good.” The dragon leaned closer to examine you, its head overwhelming your entire vision field. “You may call me Ryuo. I am god and guardian of this place. You are a descendant of Goro, and so you will be tested, as all the other village heads have been in their time.”

“I’m not a village head! I — I only need permission to the oasis just this once! I —” You positioned yourself on your knees. “Please, just this once. I’m only the daughter of Boutoku, not a head, but you have to make an exception. My fiancée  — the Kazekage — he’s been poisoned! He’s gravely ill and I have to use the oasis’ waters to save him!”

“Silence, girl!” Ryuo shook the world. You were grateful to be kneeling. “Do you think me a fool? The Kazekage is now in my care. No harm will come to him until you complete your tasks. If you pass, you will be allowed to heal him. Do not underestimate him; he once housed the One-Tails, Shukaku. He is stronger than he appears.”

In his care … That calmed you somewhat. “But.” You blinked. “I’m still not a village head —“

“I heard what you said, girl. It makes no difference. You are his last surviving descendant. You will accomplish your tasks, or you will fail.”

You settled your hands in your lap. “I’m not a shinobi.”

Ryuo laughed, as though amused by your stupidity. “There are other virtues I hold in high esteem apart from physical strength,” he answered. “The trials will be fair.”

You stood, bringing yourself to full height. Prove yourself. This was your moment; to save Gaara and your family. Tasks. You had come this far. You wouldn’t back down now. Whatever it takes. Even if I don’t survive, Gaara has to. “All right. I’m ready.”

“There will be three trials,” Ryuo announced. “No more, no less. Each one will test a virtue. If you pass, the oasis will be fully accessible to you forevermore.”

“… And if I fail?” I either die or Gaara dies — or we both die.

“Then hopefully you live on to produce an offspring that is more to my liking.” 

On instinct, you cradled your stomach. “I … I understand.” 

The ancient dragon narrowed its slits. “Very well. We shall begin with your first task.”

As before, a maelstrom of wind and cloud engulfed you.

Snowflakes fell from a pale sky. One melted on the bridge of your nose, crowded the skin of your lips.

You shivered; the chill assaulted you, numbing your every limb and orifice. You inhaled, and the cold scorched your nostrils. Your breath blew to mist in front of your face. Your hands, numb from being buried in blankets of snow, trembled as you raised them to shuffle over your forearms.  

Where am I? Why — why is it so cold?

Your teeth chattered. You turned your head. You were, now, in a world of ice and snow. Mountains capped with white fell into hills cloaked in ivory. You struggled to stand on trembling, bluing legs. Once on your feet, you realized they were almost too numb to support you. 

You thought it could grow no colder — You were a fool. Snowflakes fell in excess. More. More. A flurry of white blazed past your eyes.

“I’m so cold …”

You turned your stiff neck; a child sat near you, huddled in their arms. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was a girl. She looked — she looked like a younger version of you. Her eyes, identical to yours, flicked upward, frost clinging to her lashes.

“You can’t be here,” You said, alarm singing through your numbness. “You’re too — small. You ca — You’ll — You’ll freeze.”

The storm grew worse. You reached up to find a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You tugged it away with the intention of offering it. No! Without knowing how, you knew without it you would surely die. But you stared at the shivering girl, her skin tinged blue. 

“Please …?” Her plea came out as a breathy hiss.

The wind sped up, whistling in your aching ears. Cold mated to your bones as the blizzard grew and blew past the two of you, dousing you in another level of frost.

You’ll die. You’lldieyoulldie — 

You closed your eyes, afraid you wouldn’t be able to reopen them. Maybe you were wrong? Maybe you wouldn’t die? Whoever she was, she would die sooner than you. Where were her parents? Where had she come from? Righteous anger provided temporary warmth. What parent would leave their child this way? You thought of the little being surely growing inside of you. Whatever the case, you had to parent her now. You couldn’t let her die.

“Okay.” You struggled to walk toward her, sure any second one of your limbs would snap and wedge into the snow. As expected, your knees gave, and you dropped beside the girl. You inched cautiously toward her, frighteningly aware of the stiff agony in your limbs. With a sharp yank, the blanket fell from your shoulders. 

“You’ll be all right now,” You said in your most motherly voice as you secured the layer around her. You hugged her to you. 

Her head fell against the crook of your shoulder, breathed a chilled exhale onto your already agonized skin. “Th—Thank you …”

You hugged her tighter; now you could share body heat. But soon you were buried in the snow, the blizzard besting the both of you.

“It’s not enough …” The girl’s voice was so weak it startled you. “I need … your ring.”

My ring? You frowned. Frost evaporated the liquid from your eyes — even more so as they rounded with horror. Your ring. Your mother’s ring.

“No.” You shook your head, not without effort. 

“You have to —“

“No!” You nearly flung her off you. She started at your sudden volume.

The girl’s hand reached up, little fingers curling in the frigid air. “Please. It’s the only — thing that’ll stop the — blizzard —“

“You can’t — have it!” You cried. “It’s …” It’s all I have left of her. 

You looked down at the ring. Its jewel had been spared, still visible in the rapid snowfall. On instinct, you covered it with your other hand, shielding it from view. 

But then you returned your attention to the girl. The snow would soon bury both of you alive.

“Please …” 

You turned the ring over, around, feeling the metal of the halo. Don’t give it to her! I have to. No! It’s all we have left! She’ll be gone if we — Mother would understand — NO! 

I can’t let her die!

You ripped the ring from your finger. It jostled into your palm. Tears already freezing against your face, you offered it to the girl.

She took it, hand trembling. “Thank you …”

And …

The winds stopped. As did the blizzard. A warmth came from the girl’s center, as though she grew a tiny sun inside of her stomach. Her core warmed you and warred off the cold. 

The land of snow was washed away, replaced with the familiar warmth of the desert. You looked down at the girl; still in your embrace, she emanated a solar glow. Her body turned immaterial. You could no longer grasp onto her as she turned to bright air and spiraled into the sky. 

She lingered above you, having grown wings the color of fiery embers, as though bewinged by a midday sun.

“Thank you!” she breathed in pleasant surprise. “And guess what? You passed your first test!” 

You looked around; the sea of the desert surrounded you. Home. 

“What do you mean?” You said. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Sacrifice,” came a new voice. Deep, guttural. “Kindness.”

The dragon god materialized before you. The little girl fluttered her wings and joined him in the sky, twirling around his serpentine form like a fairy.

“You were active in sacrificing your own comforts to shield my daughter from the cold,” the dragon said, for once sounding somewhat pleased with you. “You were willing to sacrifice that ring, even with its acute significance, putting your own feelings of grief aside. Well done.”

“I did it …?” Hope flared inside of you. Maybe you could do this? You bowed your head, and surely, the ring was still on your finger. 

“Don’t fret,” said the dragon. “I’ve no actual need for human jewelry, and neither does my darling,” he added with a nod to the effervescent pixie circling him. Despite her dramatic metamorphosis, she still looked eerily similar to you.

You stood and bowed to the dragon god with hands clapped. “Thank you.”

“Such manners,” the dragon god sounded impressed. “Thank you, little one.”

The girl smiled at you, wide eyes blazing the color of tangerine. “The next test is coming now. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Confidence mingled with hope in you. You nodded, determined for what came next. “I’m ready. Let’s go!”

“Very well,” the dragon said. “Let us begin!”

Wind and clouds gathered to carry you away.

You reappeared. Breeze swept sand into the air. Tiny shrub thistles broke up the monotony of the desert’s dunes. Nearby, a small bridge connected one canyon ridge to another.

It was quiet. You weren’t fooled; you took the time to absorb your surroundings. There was nothing, save for a small cave nearby. Danger tingled your skin. 

I’m gonna have to go in there. Under no circumstances did you want to, but what choice did you have? The second test would never start if you didn’t go. Nothing like that would be without purpose.

You strode cautiously toward the opening of the cave. The shadows within ate away at anything you could make out and plunged its interior into darkness. 

Snap.

You whirled. Froze.

A scorpion. The size of an elephant. It stood towering over you, its body beige and yellow, the colors of the desert. 

It lunged its pincers at you —

You shrieked, dodged; its claw latched onto the side of a rock. It reclaimed the appendage, taking a chunk of rock with it, as you ran.

You screamed. The sound of the scorpion chasing after you rumbling from behind. Devoid of ideas and desperate to get away, you sprinted toward the bridge. You gripped its rope, the scorpion’s tumbling growing louder, to balance yourself and kept running. The wooden plants were big enough to support you — wide enough to support your predator — and the creature followed.

You looked over your shoulder in time to see its stinger lunge at you. You jumped, reaching the bridge’s adjacent side and missing the stinger by only a few inches. It stabbed the desert floor before retracting. 

You had to find somewhere to hide. What part of you were not a ninja did the shitty dragon not understand? You ran for your life as the scorpion chased after you. You dodged another hit — tripped and fell. You squirmed to cover yourself in sand, a desperate attempt to camouflage yourself. 

Silence. A click of a pincer. You cracked an eye open; the scorpion flexed its pedipalps as it scuttled in search of you. You remained still, fought to level your breathing. Think, (Y/n), think. What am I supposed to do?

… All of this was strange. Despite how frightening they looked, most scorpions were more afraid of humans. If you stayed put and left it alone, perhaps it would just go away?

But it’s clearly not a normal scorpion. What if you were wrong? What if it took your head off? I have to risk it. There’s nothing I can do to fight it.

You propped yourself up, sand tumbling from your clothes in idle clumps. “Hey!”

The scorpion faced you, chelicerae clicking.

“Come and get me!”

It charged. You stifled whimpers as it neared on spindly walking legs. As it came upon you, your eyes widened — closed shut. 

Please please please. 

You willed yourself to sit there, doing nothing that could be confused with a threat. You didn’t need your vision; you could feel the arthropod’s closeness. Its proximity overwhelmed you with terror. Please work. Gods, please work. You thought of Gaara and your trembling lessened.

Silence. Click. Click … Click. You dared to open your eyes and saw the scorpion lingering. Seemingly satisfied with your obeisance, it crawled away. You watched it scurry, stinger relaxed, and burrow itself into the nearby cave. 

“Courage!”

Ryuo materialized before you, his cyanic form incongruous when the ashy desert served as his backdrop. 

“If I had tried to attack it,” You said, “I would’ve died, wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, certainly, yes,” the dragon said, confirming your would-be death as though it were tomorrow’s weather. “However, you overcame your panic. And, despite your fear, you faced the threat head on. Well done.”

“There’s one left,” You said somewhat breathlessly.

“Yes,” said the dragon. “Though, whether you find the final test more or less demanding than the second will be determined by your constitution.”

“Okay.” You stood, puffing out your chest, hoping the action would make you appear more prepared than you felt. “I’m ready.”

“I’m sure you are, little one.”

Both you and the dragon vanished.

A blink and you realized you had been returned to the clouds. Ryuo flew within them, reptilian scales catching the light as he encircled you with his massive breadth.

“This final test will be a riddle,” he said. “Solve it, and I will return both you and your precious Kazekage to your world.”

“A riddle?” You said, spirits lifting. “That doesn’t sound too hard.”

An amused rumble. “Your confidence is charming.” Ryuo settled in front of you, his serpentine body curling into a sitting position. “When you are ready.”

You nodded, thinking of Gaara and Temari. Kankuro. They all needed you to pull through. And you were so close. I’m almost done; if I can do this, I’ll be able to save Gaara … I’ll be able to talk to him again …

“Okay.”

“I often sit with siblings, 

though I am not restricted by space or time. 

It is quiet where I am kept, 

I am not loved by those inept. 

What am I?”

“There’s no time limit on this, is there?”

The dragon’s bellowing laugh shooed clouds away. “I am quite a patient host. By all means, we shall sit here until the end of time. ”

You nodded. “Can you … give it to me again, please?”

The dragon recounted the riddle. Afterward you sat in silence, thinking. 

I often sit with siblings … You thought of Hideo and your heart ached. No, no, you couldn’t be distracted by feelings now. You combed through every part of the riddle. You supposed your dragon captor had grown bored with you; he had begun circling you again, ill-content with your ruminating.

You called out to him, and he paused in the sky. “What did my father have to do? When his time came, I mean?” 

“Ah, Boutoku.” The dragon raised his horned head in memory. “He was quite the scrapper in his day. I was not convinced he would succeed. After all was said and done, I think the humiliation of being the only village head to fail propelled him forward in his challenges. For his first, I had him fight through an ocean of pins to reach a feather.” Another grumble indicated his pleasure with the memory. “Then he had to face a riddle of his own. I was surprised by how cerebral he turned out to be.”

This made sense to you, with the way Father strung words together as though they were taut strings on a cello. Perhaps Ryuo showed him the power of words? And his first task; having once been a ninja, he was much more durable than you. “And for his last task?” You asked.

The dragon god leered at you, as though gouging your response. A pause, then: “I challenged him to a battle.”

“You — what?” You imagined Father, decades younger, battling through dragonflame in the same sky you stood in. The dragon god whirling around him at lightning speed, baring sharp jaws as it descended on him … 

“Don’t look so shocked,” Ryuo said. “Clearly, he bested me.” The dragon moved about again. Recalling his defeat seemed to soured his mood. “Now, do you have your answer?”

“One more time?”

The dragon retold the riddle. You mulled over every word, examined every mental picture. Even the short breaks and pauses in between each line were considered.

The images coincided with your thoughts of Father’s battle with the dragon god. Along with Gaara. You and him on the platform, flying through the desert. They were from a different time, and they felt so long ago. It had all been so magical to you, like a fairytale …

Like a …

“A st — a book!” You said. “Siblings — other books! And where it’s quiet … that has to be a library! And inept, well, stupid people don’t usually read!”

The dragon bared down at you with teeth like endless rows of knives. “Is that your final answer?”

You considered this. It was the best answer you had, as you had disqualified dozens that had come to mind but didn’t ring true. “Yes.”

Clouds sat still in the sky as the dragon appraised you. He laughed — another skyquake. Clouds shattered. The horizon cracked like an eggshell.

“Fascinating, fascinating girl you are!” he said. “You are correct!”

You stared as the dragon bellowed, too shocked for joy. You had done it? Actually done it?

The clouds began to part to reveal the canyon beneath, a tiny blue isle beneath your feet …

“You have succeeded in your tasks, and so have been granted access to the oasis,” the dragon said. “Go on, then, and save your precious Kazekage!”

The sky broke and blew apart, as did the solid foundation under your feet — you fell.

And fell and fell.

You screamed. Ryuo laughed and rippled after you like an azure ribbon set free. Wind swept past your back and forced your limbs in front of your face. It crackled and whistled in your ears.

And then: darkness.

You cracked eyes open to see your hand closed around soft glass. Water crinkled close by. Quiet; peace reigned supreme. It was enough to lull you back to sleep.

Groan, a gasp for air.

Your eyes flew open. You sprang up. Gaara …! Your head swung to and fro; the oasis sparkled brilliantly blue before you. Its water caught moonlight and lay dazzling like a sheet of diamonds, but you paid it no mind. Your eyes darted until — 

Gaara was beside you, his heavy-lidded eyes slips of dull turquoise. 

“Gaara!” You scurried to his side. One hand resting on his chest, you leaned forward to place your ear by his parted lips to hear his faint breathing. “Oh, gods, Gaara …!” You faced the oasis and back to him. “We have to get you in the water,” You murmured, hoping you were not speaking only to yourself.

You gently tugged Gaara into your lap, one arm around his waist, a hand cupping the back of his neck. The two of you were situated at the center of a grassy patch you assumed was made possible only by the water. Could you just scoop water in your hands and feed him? No. Something told you it would not be enough. It would never be so easy. Nothing ever was for you. If he were submerged, there was no way this could fail. 

Water soaked your pant legs as you brought Gaara to the oasis’ shore. Already you could feel the oasis’ power surging through you as its water swirled around your ankles, rejuvenating you, rendering you stronger. With arms roped around Gaara’s shoulders, you got him in. Water submerged you at the waist as he floated with your aid. It crowned Gaara’s face. And gently — oh, so so gently — you began to let him sink.

With a deep breath, you followed him. Strips of moonlight breached the oasis’ depths. You embraced Gaara as his lips parted to admit water. Arms around him, you sank deeper, deeper, the pool’s depths deceptive. But you weren’t afraid. 

I know how to do this. I can do this. Because you taught me to swim, remember, Gaara?

You kept hawkish attention on Gaara. Water seeped into his mouth and glowed — forced his lips to shine, along with the inner crevice of his mouth. He swallowed, and the luminescence trailed down his throat. His brow wrinkled as though reacting to the foreign taste. The water x-rayed beneath his skin before fading.

You waited, prayed, held him close. Please work, please wake up. 

Lungs burning, you searched Gaara’s face for signs of improvement. You would not leave him; the pair of you would sink and drown before you let go. 

A second. Another. Gaara blinked and widened his eyes, their bright, beautiful turquoise breaking up the black of his lids. And he set them on you.

You grinned. Bubbles escaped from your mouth as you spoke his name. Gaara … 

His hands came to life on you. He caressed your face. You held him closer still and, with his help, swam to the surface.

With a loud gasp, you breached the surface. Gaara emerged a second later.

“Gaara!” You enveloped him in a hug, your face buried in the crook of his neck. “I did it. Oh, gods, I did it — You’re alive.”

“I am …?” Gaara said, rubbing the small of your back. “I saw you and — I wonder now if I’m still in that dark place, only dreaming …”

You drew back, smiling in a way you hoped was reassuring. “No. You’re okay now; I brought you to my village’s oasis to heal you.” 

And it healed us both, I think, you thought, feeling the water surging through your system. It felt as though you had never been injured in your life, could never be.

Gaara, now aware of where he was, surveyed the place. Recognition seemed to round his eyes. Your chuckle brought his attention back. His gaze feathered on you. “You saved me.”

It was not a question, but another realization among many. You nodded, blinking water away to see him better.

Gaara smiled, and the warmth of it proved as healing as the water. He cradled your chin, gazing at you like you were a miracle. “Thank you  …”

And just like all the weeks ago, in a cave away from the world, you and Gaara of the Sand kissed, creating an oasis all your own.

The oasis’ water didn’t cling to your clothes, instead evaporating the moment the two of you abandoned it.

With no time to waste, you recounted everything to Gaara. His face contorted with concern and alert at the sound of his village at peril — and his brother. 

“We must return,” Gaara said sternly, stepping away from you toward the center of the grassy plain.

“Yes, absolutely, just —” You brought your hand up to see the ghost of the cut there, thankful to be spared of its continuous bleeding. “My blood got me in here. It can probably get us out. I’ll open the gates and —“

Your breath hitched. Gaara had stopped. Head bowed, his gaze fixed on the grass. “So you were telling the truth,” he said. “… All along.”

“Yes, Gaara,” You breathed. 

“About everything?” 

“Yes,” You murmured.

Gaara raised a hand, clenched it. “And your feelings toward me … were real as well? Weren’t they?”

The reality — Gaara’s reality — dawned on you. Gaara, who had been lied to so much throughout his life. You were relieved to say: “Yes, Gaara.” You stepped forward. “I love you. My feelings were always honest. Always. I couldn’t live with myself knowing I was the thing that had killed you. I had to save you.”

Gaara let his hand fall. His gaze found you. “And … the child? Our child?”

You felt a two-part ache — for yourself and your fiancée. There was hope in his voice, and what you would say next would deflate it. Or worse. You had to answer carefully. “They were never able to confirm it. But I believe I am …”

Something new on Gaara’s face now: hope. The pendulum swung; a shroud came over it.

“I am sorry …” he trailed. “I should have —“

“Gaara,” You said. “I was sent to earn your trust and love and then kill you in the most dishonorable way imaginable. I wore poison around day and night. And I couldn’t tell you the truth. What else could you have believed once Kankuro found it?” You came to him and cupped his cheek. “Don’t do this to yourself. I forgive you. I just hope I’ve done enough for you to forgive me.”

Gaara’s hand met yours. A gentle smile, once you’d missed, graced his lips. “There is nothing to forgive. I look forward to spending the rest of my life thanking you.”

Relief washed over you, but Gaara gave you no time to enjoy the shower; he kissed you. When he set to pull away, you kissed him again.

“Now,” he said, holding your hand, “let’s not waste another moment while our village is in danger.”

His wording was not lost on you. You smiled and faced the water. “We should take some water with us, just in case. Who knows when we’ll be able to come back?”

If.

You shook the evil thought away and neared the pool, thinking of ways to obtain its water. But Gaara came and summoned his gourd. Genius. You scooped water into your hands and placed it inside the gourd to mix with his sand.

“Let’s go.” You strode to one of the walls encasing the oasis. You clawed at your scarred hand, re-traumatizing the skin there. At the first bead of blood painting a fingernail, you placed your palm to the wall, and, unlike your fiancée, were unfazed when it trembled.

“Gaara!”

Temari swung arms around Gaara as you both rejoined the party in the canyon. 

“It’s all right, Temari,” Gaara consoled her as she sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m okay.”

Hahaoya embraced you in turn. You were pleasantly surprised to find she smelled the same after all these years. “I knew you could do it,” Hahaoya whispered, voice dripping with pride.

You returned her hug. She brushed hair from your face as you drew away. You approached Gaara and Temari. Temari opened her misty eyes to see you there. 

“You! Come here —“

And the next few seconds blurred into surreality as Temari released Gaara and embraced you, planting kisses on your cheek.

“You did it,” she said. “Thank you, thank you so much …!”

You blinked reality back around you. A smile came to your face as you patted her on the shoulder. “You’re welcome, Temari. So welcome.”

Empty of any occupants, the gates to the oasis closed, leaving you and the party on the other side. Hahaoya led the group up the foot-worn path. The plan was thus: You and the other Sand ninja would abscond into the desert not to catch the attention of the Oasis village, and Hahaoya would assist in providing cover if necessary.

But with Gaara safe, none of that was your priority. Only one thing was: her story.

“Before I came to take care of you and your brother, I was your father’s caretaker,” Hahaoya began. “A nanny of sorts to him as well.”

She wears her age so well. “He lost his mind after Hideo died. You were there; he banished you after all that.” You glanced toward Gaara, who was staring straight ahead but, you were sure, was listening to every word. “He believes Gaara — that he — he killed Hideo.”

Hahaoya stopped in her tracks. She eyed you crookedly. “Certainly not.” She looked away with a loaded expression, as though she had never thought Father’s lunacy could go so far.

“Please,” You said. The group had stopped along with the two of you. Apparently, you were not the only one interested in the details. “Tell me what happened. You know?”

“Hideo’s final mission …” Hahaoya resumed walking, her vision cast low. “It had nothing to do with the Sand at all. He was called to address a conflict brewing in the Land of Rivers.” You noted the sadness in her face. “Your father worried about his taking the mission at all but sent him anyway; he didn’t want to appear weak, I’m sure, despite his doubts about the mission’s specifics. It went badly. There was an explosion, and — and we were never able to collect Hideo’s body.”

An explosion. Your innards recoiled. How many times would you have to hear about Hideo’s end and how he suffered? If this was the truth, it didn’t make his loss any better, only re-contextualized the horror. Hideo had simply perished in some other terrible way, by someone else’s hand.

“Then why did Father lie?” You asked under your breath, and even to you, it sounded naive.

“I’m sure Lord Boutoku was hysterical,” Gaara said. “A mental break from the loss.”

“Lord Kazekage is right,” Hahaoya said. “Losing a wife and son in such a short span of time … And who could blame him? Hideo, his pride and joy … When your father banished me, I knew he would only grow worse.”

“You weren’t angry with him?” You asked.

“No.” Hahaoya’s voice was hardly above a whisper now. “Only sad, and gravely for him. You forget, child: I raised him up as well. I know his foundations. So much responsibility. The village, the oasis and all its secrets. Hideo’s death was the last straw that caused him to spiral. Power has been such a curse for him. He was born cursed. His life is nothing but power plays and plots, and all the losses he’s suffered …”

“He wants the Sand,” Gaara intersected, “because he thinks if he becomes powerful enough, he will never be toppled. Should he succeed in procuring it, Sunagakure’s position on the world stage would render him invincible.”

You slowed your pace, searching Gaara’s face. “You think so?”

“It must have been a great burden to have so much power, yet lose so much,” Gaara said, his voice rich with empathy, as though he was intimate with this type of suffering. “I understand him much more now … Your oasis is powerful … It healed me when I should have beyond repair. Yet he could do nothing to save your mother or your brother. The humiliation must have been so severe, along with the despair …”

You thought about this. The past exhumed from the depths of your mind, seen in a way you had never understood it before. Father had fought a dragon.

And still, he wasn’t strong enough. He was never strong enough to protect what he loved most. 

“Listen to your fiancée, (Y/n),” said Hahaoya, “he is wise beyond his years.” She graced you with a soft smile. “I was sad for you, too, little one.”

“You never said you were a ninja,” You said. “I don’t even remember you in uniform or anything. How did you pull all this off?”

Hahaoya’s smile gained a hint of mischief. “After Boutoku banished me, I chose to stay close to the village and form a small group of those I could trust who could one day fight with me if the opportunity arose. With poor Hideo gone, you were the sole heir. I thought, one day, you might need me. And, surprise, surprise, that day came.”

The party emerged from the canyons. It was dead night. Dead quiet. Warm breeze stole sand from the tip of the dunes. 

“What will you do now?” You asked Hahaoya.

“I will continue to hold down the fort and try to take it from Boutoku’s men,” she said. “But you all must return to Sunagakure.”

“And we can no longer delay.” Temari opened her fan. “Kankuro’s still back there, and he’s fighting by himself.”

“And I won’t allow that,” Gaara said sternly. “Not anymore. Let’s go.”

You turned back to Hahaoya one more time, offering her a departing smile. 

“Thank you,” you said.

With a tilt of the head, she returned your smile. 

“Good luck, little one …”

Freed from near-death, Gaara acquainted you with the full extent of his power.

He crafted great diversions from sand: rainstorms of weapons descended on the outer borders of the Oasis village. Armies of animals tore apart the steady sand dunes, drawing out the ninja who had been lying in wait. The rest of you went the other way, making a clandestine trek through the desert before Temari deemed the party far enough away to take to the skies. Matsuri paired with Temari on her fan while Gaara conjured a platform big enough for you and him to share. 

You looked back one more time at your home, its exterior in chaos from Gaara’s sand creatures. Your home grew smaller as you headed toward your new one. 

“The moment we arrive, you find Kankuro and fight with him,” Gaara told Temari. “He’ll be exhausted by the time we get back.”

“Yes,” Temari said.

Matsuri’s expression soured. “Unless …”

“No,” You told her firmly. “No.”

Matsuri flinched at your tone before nodding, going quiet at Temari’s side. 

“What will we do?” You asked Gaara.

He didn’t hurry to answer you, looking out into the desert. “We must confront Boutoku,” he reached for your hand and took it in his own, “and we will do it together.”

You nodded. So, it would come to this. You wouldn’t deny that, in a dream, you had imagined facing him down, breaking away from his control.

You were only happy that, unlike in dreams, you would not be doing it alone.