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aquilapolariz · 9 months

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shame of the sea (portgas d. ace x reader)

Summary: You-and the stars and the ocean- bear witness to Ace’s secrets.

Notes/ Warnings: SPOILERS for Ace's background, follows canon, Ace flirts to cope and reader is nosy, there are probably some astronomy inaccuracies

Word Count: 2.2k | Read below the cut or on Ao3

Ace was on the edge of the deck, staring out at the night sky, the glittering stars gazing back at him. Behind him, Marco, Thatch, and you looked at him pensively, wondering whether or not he would accept the position of Second Division Commander. “He deserves it,” you whispered. “More than anyone here, he deserves it.”

Thatch and Marco nodded, their eyes not leaving the Whitebeard emblem on Ace’s back. But you, however, saw Ace’s fist clench and his shoulders tense. “Normally he’s filled with certainty, but I wonder what’s got him hesitating…” you trailed off, thinking out loud. You stared at his unclothed back. His broad shoulders, usually strong and poised as if only an earthquake could shake him, had fallen in defeat, his back hunched over in uncertainty.

“Who knows?” Thatched mused.

“Whether or not he takes it, he’s our only option. A damn good one at that. Who can say no to such an offer?” Marco added.

You fired back a reply mentally- Only someone who’s scared of the duties of the position. Someone who doesn’t think they’re worthy. Someone who doesn’t believe they deserve it. Under his loyal, reckless, and confident persona, what did he keep concealed?

Marco yawned, “Think I’m going to bed.” He raised his voice, “Ace! You got the night watch?”

Ace turned around, suddenly pulled out of his private conversation with the stars and back onto the wooden floorboards of the Moby Dick. “Yessir,” he said, flashing a relaxed smile.

“Think about it a little more,” Thatch said to Ace while turning to follow Marco into the crew’s quarters.

“Good night,” you said to the two of them. You slowly walked next to Ace, joining him on the railing of the deck. “You always seem sad when you think no one’s looking at you,” you said, an observation that you’ve taken notice of ever since Ace joined the Whitebeard crew. Despite that, every time since then, whenever his gaze would meet yours, his lips would curl into a smile. This time was no exception.

“Can’t take your eyes off me, can you?”

You ignored him, unfazed by his flirtatious remark. “Tell me- what are you thinking about, Fire Fist?” you asked sincerely.

“Just-” he scrunched his face. “I’m not sure about this whole second division commander thing.”

You hummed. “Well, if there are any concerns…you know you could talk to Pops about it.” Ace was never afraid to speak his mind to Whitebeard, both before and after he joined the crew. You wondered what was so heavy on his heart that he’d be afraid to speak to the man he called father.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to work up the courage for that all night,” he said, smiling sheepishly.

“You could talk to me too, y’know. What’s on your mind, Ace?” you asked earnestly.

“You,” he said without missing a beat.

You rolled your eyes at his deflection. “You have way more important things to be thinking about.”

Ace grinned, shrugging. But he wasn’t lying. He always thought about you- what you’d think if he told you about the shame he carries with him, what you’d say, what you’d feel. In his heart he knew that you’d never look at him any differently, but did he even deserve your grace? Did he deserve to live a life where you were okay, even happy, with his existence? Being offered the position of Second Division Commander dug up fears he thought he forgot, fears he never knew he would have. Did he deserve to lead, to have lives in the palm of his hand? What would Whitebeard think once he found out he was working so closely with his rival’s son? The questions ran on and on in his mind. He would look to anything for an answer: the sun, the moon, the ocean, the stars, anything but his own crew.

Below you, you watched the black abyss of the nighttime ocean, searching for your own answers, for anything to say to Ace.

“What happened to living with no regrets?” you said quietly.

Ace’s eyes widened. “(Y/N)...”

You turned to look at him, your eyes boring holes into his own. “Whatever is holding you back, will it be stronger than your regret?”

He swallowed. No, nothing would be stronger than his regret- he wouldn’t let it. Placing his hand over yours, he held it and squeezed, seemingly transferring his warmth to you. “I think…you just gave me the courage to talk to Pops.”

A mutual exchange, it seemed.

You sighed a breath of relief. “That’s grea-”

“Do you mind taking the night watch for a couple of minutes while I talk to him?”

“Wait, like, right now?”

Ace nodded excitedly. How could you deny him?

“Okay,” you told him as your eyes softened.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, (Y/N). For everything.” He let go of his hand from yours, taking his warmth with it- a sobering observation of what life without Ace would be like.

“No problem, Fire Fist.” Ace was already walking away.

He headed towards the Captain’s Cabin on the deck, opening and entering the doorway to where Pops resided. You stared above you at the night sky, waiting patiently for the sound of the door to open, remembering that just moments ago that Ace was in your spot, having a silent discussion with the constellations above. You could make out a constellation in the North: Hercules, the shape of a man kneeling. Was he attacking an enemy? Was he kneeling from exhaustion? From shame? Still, as the minutes pass, the thoughts drift to Ace.

What made Ace doubt himself? There were so many possibilities. He is the Fire Fist Ace, a seemingly divine hero to many- what unknown burdens could a man like him hold?

Tearing your eyes away from the constellation, you came to realize that the stars only raise more questions, rather than answering them. It’s no wonder Ace had stared at them so aimlessly, in the same way you did. You would only find your answers- and so much more- in him, not anywhere else.

“(Y/N)! Thanks for standing in,” Ace said from behind you, causing you to flinch a little. You turned around, leaning back on the port side of the ship.

“Had a good father-son talk?”

“A great one.” Ace put both of his hands on your shoulders. “(Y/N)...don’t tell anyone else yet- I want it to be a surprise. I’m officially gonna be the Second Division Commander!”

You mirrored Ace, smiling brightly, relieved and proud. “Ace, this is huge!” Pulling him into a hug, he reciprocated instantly, wrapping his arms around you, carrying you and spinning you around. In the silence of the night, it felt like you two were the only ones on the ship, the stars looking down fondly and waves applauding you. A burden seemed to be lifted from his shoulders and into the night sky.

Ace set you down, his smile never breaking. “Congrats, Fire Fist. You deserve it. More than anyone, you deserve it,” you told him, repeating what you had said to Marco and Thatch.

His jaw dropped slightly, but he quickly recovered. “Thanks Firefly. You should probably head to bed now,” Ace said kindly, knowing that you’re never assigned to lookout. “I have the night watch.”

“I should,” you bit your lip, “but I think we should celebrate your new position. A little pre-party before the actual party with the whole crew. Plus, I can’t leave you alone- it’s not often I’m on the deck at night.” You scanned around the usually bustling ship. “It’s peaceful.”

Doubt flashed through Ace’s eyes. It didn’t go unnoticed by you. “I told you already. You deserve it. Now, let me grab some rum!” You quickly turned to head down to the galley, quietly walking through the lower deck. You grabbed two bottles and headed back up, not wanting to leave Ace alone with his thoughts for too long.

“Here you go,” you handed Ace the larger bottle as he thanked you. “Here’s to Fire Fist Ace, the Whitebeard Crew’s Second Division Commander!”

You clinked your bottles together, a sound both of you knew too well. Drinking together, with just the two of you, felt more intimate, more sacred. The moon softly lit the side of Ace’s face, his smile looking even brighter in the dark.

“Why do you keep getting put on night watch? Doesn’t everyone know you’ll fall asleep in the middle of it?” you laughed.

“Good thing you’re here to keep me awake this time around.”

“You’re welcome, but don’t get used to it.”

“C’mon, you should join me on lookout from here on out,” Ace said as he pushed his shoulder against yours.

“Look at you, already spouting out orders as a division commander,” you replied as you pushed back.

“That means you can’t say no.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

Sitting on the wooden floor of the deck, shoulder to shoulder, between laughter and eye rolls, the two of you talked endlessly.

“Now, what did Whitebeard say to make you take the job?” you asked, liquid courage fueling your curiosity.

“Something like ‘we’re all children of the sea,’” Ace gave his best Whitebeard impression.

“Please, never do that again,” you took a sip of rum. “What made him say that?”

With every sip of rum, Ace’s lips were getting looser. “I told him something I never tell anyone.”

“And that is?”

Ace paused. Would you hate him if he told you the truth? Would you never speak to him again? But his thoughts stopped there, feeling guilty for thinking that you’d do something terrible to him. You disarmed him, but the alcohol made him feel even more exposed with nothing left to hide. He felt vulnerable, yet safe.

And so he decided to surrender himself to you.

He took a deep breath. “I told Pops that-”

“You don’t have to tell me,” you said, truly meaning it.

Your words struck a chord within him, confirming that you could truly do no wrong, only further enticing him to share all his woes with you. He admitted absolute defeat, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop it. “I want to. (Y/N), I am Gol D. Roger’s son.”

You noticed that, despite shedding his inhibitions, he still had the sense to choose those words carefully; it was I’m Gol D. Roger’s son rather than my father is Gol D. Roger.

You tried your best to hide your surprise, but it showed as soon as you let your jaw drop. “Portgas D. Ace?” you said questioningly, his name slowly forming on your tongue.

“My mom’s name. It was Portgas D. Rouge.”

You looked at him, silently urging him to continue. And so he did. Memories of being treated like the devil’s offspring, of being raised by a navy admiral were spoken into words, received by your nods, beckoning him to go on and on. “I don’t wanna regret anything. I just wanna live life the way I want and to feel like I deserve to live that way.”

Whitebeard’s cabin was only a couple feet away from the two of you. You silently thanked your captain. “It’s like Pops said, we’re all children of the sea. The ocean is… this great equalizer. You are you and…I like that, Roger’s son or not. M’glad Pops knocked some sense into you. Not only do you deserve the position, but you deserve to be here.”

“Heh, figured you’d say that,” Ace said.

You shook your head. “But you don’t believe me.”

“Can’t get anything past you.”

“Yeah, so there’s no use trying to.”

Ace took the final sip of his drink, only drops of amber coming from the rim of the bottle. “Thank you,” he looked at you, his gaze forcing you to hold your own on him, “for understanding me.”

Ace, the shame of the sea and burden of the brine, wanted to believe the silver-laced affirmations of yours; he wished the bullets of your words would penetrate his thickheaded skull and make him think he was truly worthy.

But they didn’t. And to him, that didn’t matter. He was just glad that you could be the one to justify his existence when he couldn’t bring himself to. He couldn’t complain.

“If only you saw yourself through my eyes,” you yawned.

Ace fell silent, reluctant to even look at you.

You let your head rest on the uncomfortable wooden deck and stared at the stars that seemed to shine brighter than they did before. Taking one last look at the constellation of Hercules, it was clear to you now that he was kneeling in exhaustion. Maybe tomorrow he would kneel fearlessly over his enemies, triumphant and sure. But for now, he only looked down upon the seas with shame.

“What did the stars tell you earlier?” you asked.

“I guess,” he tilted his neck up to see the Herculean pattern of stars, “they told me that I’m the one who decides what I’m gonna be.”

With no words to fill the void, you closed your eyes, the waves of alcohol and the ocean rocking you to sleep.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #portgas d ace x y/n #portgas d ace x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #one piece imagine #portgas d ace #ace one piece #portgas d ace x you #ace x reader #iz writes

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aajjks · 4 months

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BC!JK

he doesn’t want to? why not?

can’t he see that you’re a girl who can’t make up their mind to save their life, you’re clearly obsessed with your ex, you have a cat, you’re an over-thinker, and you have no social life. you’re everything a guy would literally hate and actively avoid yet here he is putting his heart out in the open and it has your name written all over it.

jungkook still likes you after all these years despite you both not ending on the best terms and it’s unbelievable.

you’re sure he’s seen and met so many other girls that are 1000% better than you yet here he is claiming to still have feelings for you. claiming that he can mend your heart and be the best man for you but only if you give him one chance.

he wants another shot at your heart. he messed up the last time but this time will be different because he’s different and neither of you are sure if you’ll see each other again if the answer is no.

“wow” you say a bit flattered by jungkook’s confession.

“i’m gonna cry a lot and i’ll probably want to be alone a lot too” you follow up but that doesn’t steer jungkook away because he understands how you feel.

“if you’re okay then…i’ll stay. i’ll call danielle and tell her to go back home. she’ll probably be mad but she’ll understand” you shrug before picking up your soaked bag and telling jungkook you’ll be in your room to freshen up and once the door of the guest bedroom closes, you don’t get to see jungkook being ecstatic that you decided to stay.

“hey danny, where are you?”

“i was just about to call you! i just left!!”

“YOU JUST LEFT?! danielle!!”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry!!”

“well, don’t worry about it. you can turn around, i’m staying with…with jungkook”

“……..huh?”

“i-i said—“

“I KNEW SOMETHING WAS GOING ON BETWEEN THE TWO OF YOU!! are you two fucking or something?”

“eww, danny no! he’s letting me stay until i get my own apartment”

“mhm, sure he is. you don’t have to sugarcoat y’know?”

“shut up, danielle. i told you it’s not like that. we’re just—“

“fuck buddies?”

“wha? no!”

“sneaky links?”

“danielle”

“mutual care bears…for now”

“PLATONIC, danielle. it’s platonic. plus, it’s only until i get my apartment. once i find a place in my budget then i’m gonna leave”

“whatever, now tell me about this break up”

“let me wash up first then we’ll talk, ok?”

“okay. you better call me back too!”

“i will! i will!”

you hang up the phone and open your soaked bag and just when this night, okay seriously, WHY is your night going left like this? most of your clothes are soaked from the rain and although it’s 100% your fault, you just can’t catch a break.

“jungkook?” you softly call for his name with hopes that he heard you and before you can call his name again, he’s at your door wondering if everything is okay.

“uh, i’m fine it’s just…do you have an extra pair of clothes i can borrow for the night? some of mine are wet from the rain”

Did you just ask him for clothes?

He doesn’t have any women’s clothes in his house that’s for sure so maybe he will have to give you his, which he is more than fine with, but… would you be comfortable with wearing his clothes?

“Uhhh yn I don’t have any female clothing here… would you like a pair of T-shirt and a pair of pajamas? They’re mine.” it’s hard for him to look at you without blushing. He knows that Your night is really bad, but his night is just right.

He will really get to witness you wearing his clothes.. a guy’s biggest fantasy is to see the girl he loves in his clothes….

And he’s about to experience that….

You will look so adorable in his large, clothes, and he is not going to let this opportunity go so before you can give him an answer he’s off to his room and he’s taking out his clothes, and like an excited boy, he’s running back to your room.

“HERE.” he literally throws the clothes in your hands, unable to hide his excitement, “go shower, do whatever you want and I’ll prepare something for us to eat… and I gotta go check on my dog… trust me he will not bother you.” he assures you because he just told him that you don’t really get along with dogs….

You will learn to love him that’s okay. And he knows that you’re really awkward with him…. So Jungkook just leaves you to your business before going back to his room and he is also taking a shower, and it’s a quick one because he knows he has to cook for you, so after he’s done he hurriedly puts on some clothes.

And while he was showering, he was literally beaming with happiness because you’re literally in his home… with him.

It’s like his wildest dream has come true.

Jungkook doesn’t really bother to dry his hair, soon he’s off to the kitchen. “Hmm what would yn like?” he thinks to himself, before deciding to just grill some beef for the both of you…

I mean, he doesn’t really know what do you like but he’s sure that you would love beef…

Honestly cooking is therapy for him… and he humming to himself, singing his heart away… that is until you call out his name

“Oh yes, yn?”

He turns around, and he swears to God that.. he’s forgotten how to breathe.

There you stand in all your glory- in his clothes. He cannot believe this earth.

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pastxlscorp · 3 years

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Bully! Mitsuya Fanfic (pt.3)

Chapter III: Abidance

✿ Word Count: 3.2k

✿ Pairing: Takashi Mitsuya x reader

✿ Topics covered: (Eventual) Enemies to lovers trope, Hakkai POV, Y/N POV, Mitsuya POV, tsundere-Mitsuya, bully! Mitsuya, fem. reader, minor manga spoilers, slight angst

Awakening from his slumber, he found that the woman was no longer taking up space in his bed. He heaved a sigh of relief, only to, unfortunately, see a message from an unknown number on his phone saying “Text me when you’re free ;)” Ignoring the text, he found he had a message from Hakkai and remembered that he had abandoned him to sleep with that damn woman. However, Hakkai didn’t confront him about it, but instead acted as if nothing happened.

🗨️ Hakkai: Is the party still on for today? (Sent 2:00am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: Yeah, sorry about yesterday. I wasn’t feeling my best, I should have let you know. (Sent 10:00am)

🗨️ Hakkai: No hard feelings. Ya feeling better now Taka-chan? (Sent 10:01am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: Not really, but it’ll pass. What’d you end up doing yesterday after I left? (Sent 10:02am)

Picking up on the subtle curiosity of Mitsuya’s text, it became clear to Hakkai that he did see him with you. As much as he admired Mitsuya, the anger building inside of him got the best of him. Therefore, in response, he chose a reply that he knew would get Mitsuya boiling.

🗨️ Hakkai: Caught Y/N outside of your class, had a wonderful lunch with her! She’s so nice, Taka-chan! Why are ya so mean to her? (Sent 10:04am)

Vigorous fingers typed in reply.

🗨️ Mitsuya: Why the fuck were you hanging around that slut? She’s just gonna try and get in your pants. What did she say to you? (Sent 10:04am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: Hakkai? Hello? (Sent 10:05am)

🗨️ Hakkai: Sorry Taka-chan, I’m back. She didn’t say nuthin bad, actually she was so sweet. She saw I was alone and we both had some tea together back at her place. Ended up sleeping over, I’m still here actually! (Sent 10:05am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: BACK AT HER PLACE? I told you, she’s just trying to get in your pants and you let her win! I can’t believe you let a whore like her win you over, Hakkai! Where the fuck is your brain? She probably was enjoying every minute of your sorry ass. (Sent 10:05am)

🗨️ Hakkai: Who said we slept together, Taka? (Sent 10:05am)

Silence enveloped the room.

🗨️ Mitsuya: Sorry… I just assumed that’s what you meant by sleeping over. (Sent 10:07am)

🗨️ Hakkai: Awh, it’s okie Taka, I know you were only looking out for me. (Sent 10:07am)

Absolutely, looking out for Hakkai. That’s what this was, that’s what he was doing. There couldn’t have been any other reason why he was so upset at the thought of you sleeping together. He was just being a good friend.

-----

┃ “Y/N!” the hoarse voice spoke to you, feeling the smooth cloth of his jacket pressed against your face as you bumped into him.

You looked up only to recognize Hakkai, kind thoughts flooding your mind, diminishing your anger stemming from your interaction with Mitsuya moments before. He grinned at you giddily, eyes relaxing any sort of tension left in your body. You slowly began to forget why you were mad and allowed yourself to indulge in his presence.

┃ “Good afternoon Hakkai! Waiting for Mitsuya?”

┃ “Mhm, you takin’ Designer 101 too, right?”

┃ “Yup! How come you aren’t taking it? You’re very fashionable, y’know?”

┃ “You’re too kind,” He giggled, his grin beginning to somehow grow wider on his cheeks as he raised his hand to pat your head.

┃ “I’m serious! Why don’t you join the class? It’s not too late, the second semester is about to start!” You eagerly pushed on, rejoicing in the positive energy he emitted.

┃ “ ‘m not really into making clothes, just showing them off...” He let out a hefty chuckle before getting cut off by you.

┃ “You don’t have to be good at making them! Some students choose to learn how to stylize different clothing and patterns, it’s all about the latest trends.”

┃ “Really?” He went silent for a few moments, smile morphing into a straight line as he contemplated your words carefully. Not to fret, as his smile quickly returned as he said: “Well then, might have to ask Taka-chan to help me sign up!”

You both shared a laugh and began to discuss the enrollment process in order for Hakkai to join the class-- if he were to drop another class, what class would he drop, or would he simply add it to his current schedule? While your conversation was nothing more than an innocent developing friendship, unbeknownst to you, Mitsuya had witnessed it all and declared it once more another betrayal. You were such a slut, flirting with anyone and everyone. Irrationality began to consume him-- instead of seeing your interaction with Hakkai for what it truly was, a genuine developing friendship, his brain refused to comprehend your behavior with other men. He never got to the level of comfortability you had with Takemichi, and he had lost the sense of ease you had with him to Hakkai and god, god did it piss him off. Unfortunately for that kohai, she was just another doll for him to play with just until he could get your attention again. Even a single drop of your attention, your attachment, it was enough to drive him for weeks just to be able to be near you again. Your kind words squeezing his heart tighter and tighter the more you spoke, your laughter ringing in his ears at a corny joke he told you during club meetings, it enveloped him into infatuation which later developed into a larger feeling. Such a large feeling over the progressing months that when he began bullying you, when your lack of presence and absences during meetings began to grow, an emptiness began to root in his heart, waiting for you to touch it once more and let it grow.

He could go on and on listing things about you-- the way he loved your sense of fashion, the way he loved your sense of humor, your compassion to helping others, your intellect that allowed you to read everyone like a book, everyone except him. Why couldn’t you see that he didn’t hate you? Oh, but that jealousy, the first time he’d admit that it was jealousy, it gripped him so tightly around his neck that it felt suffocating. Every shove, every clasp of your hand, your wrist, your chain, your chain, it made his heart shutter seeing that dead watery look in your eye, but your attention was like a drug that he just had to keep getting more of. It would never be enough to satisfy him, not until he could call you his and you would call him yours. He pitied using them, he really did, but he needed someone to satiate his needs. He was a womanizer, after all-- if one left he would just charm another into his bed. They all had high respect for Mitsuya, his intellect, his charm, his skill, and his kindness. Yet no matter how hard he tried, all those women, they were never you and they could never try and be you. He found that he no longer sought sex for his own pleasure anymore, but for your own, pretending so desperately that the one trembling out of pleasure beneath him was you. Imagining, no, fantasizing that he was making you happy and leaving you satisfied.

Upon seeing your interaction, he quickly left with his kohai for their own exchange, leaving Hakkai unfortunately confused as he waved you goodbye, patiently waiting for his friend to meet him. You were still on campus because you had taken additional extracurricular activities to build up your transcript to make up for your absences in Mitsuya’s Home-economics club. At first, you attempted to make it through the club meetings but he made every single one as unbearable as possible. The second semester, could it come any sooner? Hakkai, too focused on organizing his schedule with you previously, had failed to notice Mitsuya leaving with a woman. He waited, he waited, and he waited, coming to a good hour until he realized Mitsuya wouldn’t have left him waiting for this long without a heads up. He looked at his phone, expecting some sort of contact-- a phone call, a message, anything. All that awaited him was several unread messages from group chats and friends, none of them from Taka-chan. He sighed, placing his phone away just as he noticed your presence once more, planting a fake smile on his face to disguise his obvious disappointment. Unfortunately for him, his smile only instantly alerted you something was wrong.

┃ “Hakkai? Why are you still here, weren’t you supposed to be meeting Mitsuya?”

┃ His phony smile stood in place as tears began to fill his eyes. He croaked: “T-taka-chan left me. Do you think he’s mad at me for sumthin’, Y/N? I don’t ‘member doin’ anything.”

You instantly rushed over to comfort him, witnessing what appeared to be an intimidating giant become undone into a fragile teddy bear at the thought he had upset his best friend. Your disdain only kept growing for Mitsuya, first it was his lack of maturity during class, and now he had abandoned his best friend for whatever reason it was. Hakkai was a sweetheart, you couldn’t imagine what he may have done to upset someone. Therefore, you came to the conclusion Mitsuya had thrown a tantrum of sorts and took it out on him. It irked you, however, Mitsuya always remained respectful and loving to his best friend in addition to Yasuda-san, so you couldn’t help but raise your brow wondering what got him so upset for him to entirely ditch his friend. Pushing those thoughts aside, you placed all of your focus on bringing a smile back to Hakkai’s face, gently rubbing his back and placing your forehead against his temple as he crouched over in defeat. You desperately attempted to think of anything to cheer him up.

┃ “Ah, how about some tea?”

┃ “...Tea?”

┃ “Listen, I have absolutely no idea what you like and I want to calm you down so-”

┃ “Tea sounds good.” He said softly, a small smile returning to his face.

You escorted Hakkai comfortably back to your dorm, located on the east wing of the campus. Women and men could go to each other’s dorms, they just had gender-separated wings because it was just easier to contain the chaos if everyone was allowed to sleep with their girlfriend or boyfriend. The boys had their dormitory on the west side, thus you noticeably got some glances as you strolled with Hakkai. Mitsuya was always surrounded by Hakkai and Yasuda-san, so obviously most of your classmates were shocked to see you hanging out with his right-hand man. Were you both sleeping together? Ooh what a scandal (not). Although you didn’t mind the glanes too much, Hakkai on the other hand made sure to shoot down them all with a nasty side glare, quickly causing them to turn their cheek. It was a cute sight after all, seeing how you subconsciously had reached for his hand and began to rub gentle circles on it in order to ease him, which succeeded in doing so. Once you arrived at your dorm, you opened the door and gave him a show of jazz hands as you toured him around your dorm. Your dorm wasn’t the largest compared to his and Mitsuya’s dorm, which made him realize the privilege of not having a financially aided dorm. Your queen bed comfortably rested on the right side of the room, covered with a curtain and fairy lights on the wall behind it. Your desk was not too far away, maybe a good 15 feet across your bed, not too messy but not too neat. It was obvious you were working on something, as there were papers still out and scattered but the rest of the desk had the pens, pencils, and stapled papers sorted in a clean pile. Your pinboard was half-covered with your calendar, cluttered with small sticker reminders while the other half was your schedule, nicely decorated with washi tape sticking it to the board. Next to your bed was a wooden closet and you led him into the cramped kitchen that made him gasp, seeing how you make such a tight space so comfortable and presentable. You had a small glass coffee table in the middle, a small fridge cramped in the kitchen underneath a cupboard and next to a cabinet holding the sink on top. Next to that was a stove with a microwave on top, both color-coordinated black, contrasting the white of the room. You guided him over to the table and motioned for him to sit and he obediently did. Walking over to the countertop holding an old-school kettle, you used it to strain and brew the tea. Gleefully, you dropped a few ice cubes in his glass and carefully poured his tea and then your own, sitting across from him at the table. He took a sip of the tea you had placed in front of him, smiling not at the delightful taste but the awaiting face you had fixated, putting your hands under your chin waiting for a response.

┃ “This tea is delightful, thank you Y/N.” He said warmly and you basked in his praise.

┃ “Ah, sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the staring. I don’t… really get visitors. It’s nice to have someone over.” You replied, your face beginning to glow a light pink as your lips formed into a slight frown, embarrassed to admit how you had no friends.

┃ “Mm, I should be the one thankin’ you,” The softness in his voice made your crouched posture fix itself as you looked up to him. “You made me sum tea, opened me to your home, all ‘cuz I was sad and overthinkin’. You ain’t hafta do that, but you did anyway. I appreciate ya!” His iconic grin was now back where it belonged as his eyes glazed over you in pure adoration. You smiled in return, both returning to take a sip of your tea.

Hours passed and he was still at your house, you both gossiping and talking like old friends. You discussed your classmates, praising them and disapproving of the behavior of others. He began to confide in you about what he witnessed during his time as the second-division’s vice captain. You eagerly listened to him as he described to you his tales with his brother and his amazing sister Yuzuha, anything and everything was up for debate. At least, almost everything. Despite being the main reason he was so upset, you and Hakkai had not discussed Mitsuya’s treatment of you. He was mentioned in a few gang stories, but it seemed as if Hakkai was opting out of speaking about him out of respect for you. However, his head began to slump, implying he was tired. You grabbed your phone, which had been placed upside down on the coffee table, and looked at the time and saw it was well past midnight. You leaned over to rub Hakkai’s shoulder and you gasped when his head turned back upright, alert as if he just remembered something. Drunk on drowsiness, he began to speak:

┃ “Mmh, y’know Mitsuya used to talk about you a lot. Always went on about this pretty girl who was awfully sweet, really smart…” He trailed off, fighting off the sleep that clung desperately to his eyelids. “He never gave me a name but after club meetings when I woulds wait for him, he would tell me about his conversations. I always saw him looking at ya. What did ya do to make him so pissed off?” Although he had no malicious-intent in his questioning, it was enough to cause goosebumps all over your body.

┃ “I didn’t do anything, ‘kai. Really, nothing different happened that day. All of the sudden, the next day during his club he humiliated me in front of everyone and then made me stay after hours to yell at me even more.” You went silent for a moment, before your curiosity got the best of you and you questioned: “He used to talk about me? Are you sure?”

┃ Ignoring your question, he replied to your initial response. “You didn’t do anythin’ different at all that day?”

┃ You contemplated his question carefully, before realizing the one event that was an outlier to the rest. “I was waiting for my friend outside campus gates that day. He offered to wait with me but I insisted he didn’t, mainly because my friend had said Mitsuya wasn’t very fond of him so it was better if he didn’t see him.”

┃ “Who’s the friend?”

┃ “Hanagaki Takemichi.”

┃ The tired man in front of you took a full minute to process your sentence before bursting out and crying of laughter a few moments later. You looked at him, pure confusion coating your body as he continued to sob. Finally, after a few minutes, he wiped his eyes and sat back up, gleaming at you. “Well that’s your problem, Mitsuya fucking hates Takemichy. Probably spied on ya because he was worried, saw Takemichy, and boom-- he got jealous AHAHA!” He went back to crying of laughter, leaving you a few moments to yourself to process his words.

It was embarrassing to admit how Hakkai was half-asleep in front of you and somehow managed to put together your puzzle of confusion together months after said incident had happened, in under 20 minutes. However, you couldn’t find yourself disagreeing with his theory. Suddenly, Hakkai stopped laughing and looked up at you, all serious.

┃ “Now wait… that’s not funny! He’s been pushing ya around all the time just cuz he’s jealous of you being with other guys?! That’s fucked up! ‘M gonna beat his ass, Y/N! Just for you!”

You now began laughing, taking Hakkai’s hand in yours over the glass countertop and tapping it gently.

┃ “That won’t be necessary, ‘kai. How about we come up with a solution?”

┃ “My solution is beating his a-”

┃ “A non-physical solution.”

┃ He went silent for a few moments, looking away from you to the window to think. You could tell he thought of something when a smirk began to plaster itself on his face. “How about we test our theory?”

┃ “Elaborate.”

┃ “If that pain in my ass is done with whatever it is he’s doing, there was supposta be a party tomorrow. Not at our dorm, but our friend’s. You might have heard of him, Manjiro Sano?”

You responded with silence.

┃ “Mikey. The Invincible Mikey.”

┃ “Not ringing any bells.”

┃ “Brother of Emma Sano. Brother of Izana.”

┃ “Emma Sano is so nice!”

┃ “Captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang, Y/N.”

┃ “Oh.”

┃ “Point is, he’s having a party tomorrow. We could get some revenge, I bring you as my date~”

┃ “Won’t that make him angri-

┃ “That’s what revenge is.”

┃ “Why don’t I just talk with him?”

┃ “Has he tried talking to you?”

┃ “...no.”

┃ “I rest my case.”

Silence enveloped the room once more. It wasn’t an awkward silence, no, it was quite a comfortable silence actually as he patiently awaited your response and allowed you to process and think.

┃ “When is the party exactly?”

✿ tags: @haiq-trash @blackmysticalsimp @the2ndl @bren-heron @delicatejudgecopcowboy @skiwalkers

✿ a.n. // First of all, thank you so much for 102 followers <3 I appreciate the support being given to me! I would like to address one thing, however, please don't rush me to write! I've gotten very kind messages of support but others have been demanding more of me and it's important to remember that I have classes, chores, a social life, and many other things happening. I love writing but rushing me makes it unenjoyable and it won't be my best work. My goal for this ongoing fanfic is to post weekly. Just a little ted-talk there, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter though! I had such a fun time writing it :)

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honeyhenry · 3 years

Text

Captain Confusion

A/N: Inspired by this video that makes me weep with its cuteness! I just had to write this okay 🥺🥺🥺 This is in the same universe as Homeward Bound, which happens after this story. Feel free to give it a read after this, if you haven’t already! ALSO should note that the lovely @ohmygoodie is my Sy partner in crime and without them this fic would not be made possible :)

Warning: mention of operations/hospitals, and a whole lot of fluff!

It was a simple procedure and so it hadn't worried you too much, other than the usual fears when a loved one is under the knife while in the hands of trained doctors. Sy’s hernia had been authorised for operation only five minutes into the doctor’s appointment you had all but dragged him to, and scheduled for 4 days later. Not really much time to prepare mentally, but you knew it was necessary with your big bear of a man in pain. Despite the painkillers prescribed, he was walking with a limp and groaning in bed for all the wrong reasons.

In the waiting room, you and his Ma kept busy during the 45 minute wait by looking through magazines, talking about how the Captain’s quality of life will improve, and what kind of minor jobs you’ll have him do around the house while he’s recovering as you continue to work.

“I hope the recovery isn’t as long as some people have said. I know for a fact he’ll not want to be cooped up all day. If he’s anything, he’s stubborn” you sigh, knowingly.

Ma smiles, looking at you pointedly, knowing that she is in the presence of the only other soul who knows what is best for her son. “He knows better now that his health is his wealth. He’s got a lot more riding on being well now. After all, it’s not just him he’s gotta be there for anymore.”

“Yeah, I mean I always tell him, he’s not 25 anymore. Or even 30. I’ll need you to back me up, he does anything you say. I’m his equal, you’re his Mom.”

You both laugh a little, hers warm and kind, while yours tinges with the remaining hopeful nerves of an army Captain’s wife. You don’t like not knowing about your Sy, especially since you spent all those years apart, not knowing if he was safe, or even alive. The waiting, in any capacity, is the hardest part.

You’re flipping through a random tabloid magazine, when the surgeon in charge walks through to the waiting room.

“Everything went really well with Captain Syverson. He’s coming to from the anaesthetic and asking for his Ma?”

Ma grins before sucking her teeth between her lips watching as your mouth drops. You both move from the waiting area to follow the surgeon towards where your husband is resting. You speak under your breath, only wanting Sy’s Ma to hear you; “I hope he still remembers how to grovel after this.”

Ma enters the room with you following her, arriving only a couple more corridors along from where you’d last seen him earlier that morning. He may not have asked for you but you were going to see Sy whether he wanted it or not. A grand push of the door allows it to swing open, and suddenly there he is. A little disoriented but has a large dopey smile plastered on his face as soon as he sees his Ma. His heavy head lolls to one side as he rests it on the plush hospital pillow.

“Hey Ma” he groans out as she bends over her large son to give his forehead a kiss, taking his hand in hers. He spends a moment just gazing at her for a while, the love he has for her evident on his face, as she tells him that everything went well, and that he can go home tomorrow.

It’s only after this tender mother and son moment, that he notices you.

“Ma.... why ya bringing a beautiful girl here when I’m like this...oh god I’m not wearing underwear Ma!”

His feeble attempt at trying to cover himself means that you actually end up seeing far more of him than you expected. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, but it definitely hasn't happened in front of his own mother before. The whole situation makes you blush and giggle a little as you try your best to avoid eye contact with Ma. You can only imagine the look on her face, and you don’t want to get any more involved with Sy’s naked form than you need to right now.

Rather than put you and your poor Sy through any further embarrassment, Ma speaks up.

“Oh darlin’, this is y/n. You remember her, right?”

And while he’s listening - or at least pretending to listen to his Ma fussing over him again - he’s just staring at you, gazing in awe as if you were the one to hang the stars in the sky.

“You are.... so pretty” he slurs, making you break out a genuine smile that he mirrors, glad that he was the one to make you look even more pretty.

“Well thanks handsome. How do you feel?” you perch on the edge of the bed and hold his hand. To him, the gesture feels warm and inviting - even if he doesn't know you, he recognises something about you in the comfort that you bring.

“Feel like shit. Oh fuck i said ‘shit’ in front of the lady” he whines again, scrunching his eyes closed as hangs his head in shame. It looks like he might even cry with the realisation that he’s made such a foolish impression of himself. It takes Ma shushing him and making him take a sip of juice from his bedside to calm down, dabbing his face with a cloth when his juice spills from his mouth.

“Oh Logan Daniel Syverson...what did they do to ya?” she lightly scolds as she helps clean up the mess he’s unknowingly created around him. That’s your Sy, a hurricane of mess that somehow fits into order just how he likes it.

You giggle a little more at his shameful expression, before he refocuses, giving you his undivided attention once more.

“How is it that ya know my Ma and we’ve never met? Or have we? ‘Cause I think i’d remember a face like yours”

“Well...” you start, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear to let him see your entire face, hoping it would jog his memory. As you do so, the ring on your fourth finger glints in the hospital light, and for the first time since you've entered the room, he’s noticed.

“Oh...man...knew a girl like you would be snatched up already. Whoever has the honour of being yours is a very lucky man.” He smiles softly, a wistful look in his eye, while makes you realise that you can’t wait for the drugs to leave his system, you have to remind him who you are and who he is, right this very moment.

“Sy honey... we’re married. You’re my husband, and I’m your wife. I think the drugs are making you more than a bit loopy.”

It’s his turn for his jaw to drop, his eyes are unblinking as he takes in what you’ve just said. He turns sharply - more than his doctor would have probably liked - to his Ma, and then back to you, and then his Ma again, waiting for one of you to burst out laughing at the prank you surely must be playing on him.

“Wha-? A wife? I have a wife?” you nod and he exhales a deep breath of air in amazement.

“YOU’RE my wife? Really?” you nod again and Ma smiles at you as she watches the scene of Logan meeting you all over again.

“Am I still in the army? I’m a Captain ya know”

“You left just a few months ago. You still work in the local camps, of course. You like it there, and you’re home every night and most weekends.”

“Does Ma like you?” You don’t even get a chance to finish as he turns to his mother “Do you like her? is she nice? Does she like your new kitchen? I built it y’know.”

You knew when you met, dated, and married him, that Sy was a Momma’s boy. He loves his mother so much, that her opinion will always mean the world to him.

Ma nods “You two are the sweetest couple. She’s the best addition to the family, gives you a run for your money alright. She’s my new favourite.” You get a soft hug from her as she says this, with her wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. She’s always felt so grateful that her Logan found you, because my goodness did he love you ferociously, and he needed you in his life. You were the making of him, and the whole Syverson clan will forever be grateful to you for it.

"And where did we get married? If we really are married.” He continues his line of questioning.

“At the ranch, on your family’s land. it was such a special day. We had the reception there too. And we went to Italy for our honeymoon.”

Sy is basking in every word you say, praying it to be true, as if he could will it into existence if it hadn’t already happened, wanting badly to remember sunset kisses and italian food and beach days all spent with you. He perks up at the last thing you say, taken by complete surprise.

“Honeymoon?! Oh my god have we...ya know..?” A blush fades over Sy’s face, and even though you love his Ma, you really wish she wasn’t finding out so many details about your personal life today, like how your son rails you on the regular in many ways, and in many places. He must somehow remember or at least accurately imagine your past endeavours, as he grins like a little shit.

You smack his arm, lightly but with a firm hand.

“Be quiet, or the whole ward will know about our sex life” you threaten. “Yes we’ve had sex. i’d hope so given that we have a kid on the way.”

If Ma had had to deal with her son getting horny over his “new”wife, she was being fully compensated for it as she witnessed him fall head over heels in love with you, all over again.

“A kid?...Tell me ya not messing with me...are we really- I-” he swallows and his tears come even easier than before “We’re havin’ a baby?” With the sudden realisation, he turns to his Ma. “This beautiful woman right here’s havin’ my kid, Ma?” He looks between the two of you again, watching as you both nod and beam from ear to ear.

“You know you cried just as much when i told you for the first time too. i promise when the drugs are out your system it’ll all make sense again.”

Sy smiles, clutching your hand in his warm palm, almost scared to let go as the door is knocked and he feels you might be taken away. Instead, it’s a welcome visitor.

“Hey doc,” Sy greets the man who reenters the room, now freshly out of scrubs to visit his patient - who if anything is now simply love sick, no hernia to be found. “This is my wife, and she’s having a baby.” he looks back to you with a quirk of his eyebrow “My baby?” You roll your eyes and he confirms it; “my baby.”

“Oh, congratulations...again.”

The doctor’s evaluation and explanations don’t take long, and while Sy is being informed, you start rubbing your belly as a form of self-comfort. You will need to remind your child that while their father looks incredibly stern and impossibly large, he is silly and goofy and already loves them with his entire being. Over the course of the afternoon, Sy talks with you while the anaesthetic wears off. It turns out they had given him a pretty high dosage based on his height and muscle mass, so he would be out of action for a couple of hours at least.

“Oh, i have your ring” you pipe up before he starts getting too sleepy again, taking the thick gold band off of the necklace around your neck, placing it on his finger carefully.

“That feels better already” he sighs, as he begins to doze in and out of consciousness. Before he closes his eyes once more to rest peacefully, a small tear slides down his cheek, which you of course, notice. Sy has cried maybe 5 times in the time you’ve known him and three of those times have been in this very room.

“Honey what’s wrong? Are you in pain? i can call the doctor-”

“No i’m fine i’m fine i just-” he sniffs and tries to clear his throat from the sad, heavy pain he feels in his chest. “I’m gonna be real sad when I wake up from this dream. What if I can’t find you when I wake up?”

Oh your sweet, silly man.

“Bear it’s not a dream, I’ll be right here when you get up properly and we can go home and cuddle and I’ll heat up your favourite meal. I’ll be right there with you.”

“And the baby?” he asks, eyes wide. almost nervous to ask.

“Well they have to come too, they're with me. We can look at their pictures again so you can get reacquainted. And Aika will be so happy you’re back. We’ve been gone the whole day.”

“Aika!” your husband perks up, “Oh Aika, man....I love that dog..”

“I know you do bear, you just get some rest for now and then we can go home.”

Before you know it, he’s fallen back to sleep, his mouth wide open as he slumps against his pillow, completely out of it.

It’s dark outside when Sy opens his eyes again, watching as his Ma passes you a small herbal tea in the dimly lit hospital room. Technically visiting hours are over, but no one was going to argue with the Captain’s family. You smile, and he feels like he can finally relax, in your presence

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he growls lowly, and you look up at him from your phone, beaming in surprise, glad that your husband had woken up feeling a bit more like himself.

“Oh hello again” you smile and squeeze his hand, his slow blinking already indicating a much clearer mind, and that he knows exactly who you are.

“Again? What’d I miss?”

“The drugs” he stops you mid-sentence for a sweet kiss, acting as though a minute more without your lips would be the source of his downfall. “Mmmh, the drugs made you so loopy, it was the sweetest thing, Sy.” You grin as he pulls you up beside him on the bed.

He raises his eyebrows, clearly with no recollection of any of the past events. Yet still, he smiles.

“Yeah? How’s baby?” he holds you close to his side, wrapping an arm around your waist so he can cover your tummy with his palm.

“They’re great. Glad to have daddy back and sane.”

You swear that as you say that, he starts tearing up again, this time however he doesn’t let them fall. He was openly weeping earlier, but you won’t tell him that. Not yet.

“Damnit. Must be something in these drugs they got me on.”

“Mm-hmm sure bear.”

You stay close that evening, both curled up on a hospital bed that is already quite a tight fit for your husband alone. But as always, he makes it work. You’re half on top of him, both of you fast asleep, when the nurses come to do their rounds. Ma had left just after he had woken up, sneaking off into the night to let the rest of the family know how her most middle son is keeping after the operation. You’d cuddled and doted on each other until you’d fallen asleep, Sy following not long after as he bid goodnight to you and your precious cargo with a soft kiss to your lips, and protective rub of your stomach.

He counts himself more than lucky to have something so good, that it would pain him to forget. He was living the life that he’d been too scared to ever dream of, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

taglist: @ohmygoodie @michelehansel @la-cey @palaiasaurus64 @sassy-pelican @brandycranby

Masterlist

feedback / ask me a question here!!

#captain syverson x reader #captain syverson #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #dad!syverson #dad!sy #cavillary #my writing #syverson x reader

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kissingchoso · 3 years

Text

Adoration - Tooru Oikawa

Pairing: Tooru Oikawa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A very self indulgent piece about softdom!Oikawa.

Warnings: 18+ content, d/s relations, softdom!oikawa, subspace reader, consent asking, covering in cum, OOC oikawa (???? idk its my first time writing for him), it’s actually pretty soft.

A/N: lmao if you ever saw me say i’m not an oikawa fucker in my tags before, no you didn’t. that’s not me. wrong bitch. you can all thank the bestie cas ( @karasunosimp ) for encouraging this. i know she was waiting for me to finally convert, as well as other besties who wanted me to experiment with this fic. 🖤

You think you’re living in a pleasant dream once your boyfriend comes home. His heavy duffel bag is perched upon his shoulder, thick viens running down the lengths of his arms as well as muscles protruding through his skin. He looked pretty, even when the lines of exhaustion contorted his face. Still, he was considerate enough to greet you with a gentle, “Hey baby,” and a kiss to your forehead.

It’s not much, but he promises to show you some more loving post shower. It’s hard to deny when his breath ghosts your ear and he chuckles when your body goes slightly rigid from his close proximity.

It’s a short endeavor, regardless. Oikawa finishes his shower with just enough time before your eyes close for the night. It doesn’t matter that his hair is still damp or is the fact the steam from the shower clings to his bare chest when he looms over you.

He’s already rock hard by the time he’s on top of you, hardened dick rubbing against the exposed skin of your thigh. A gentle grumble sounds from a deep part of his chest before his lips are pressed against yours.

Sometimes you think its not fair to have such a pretty man like this. For you to be the only one to bear witness in his most vulnerable state while the rest of the world gets to watch him grow higher than ever. For you to be the only person to center him back to reality, to ease his worries, to let him fuck you silly as he exerts the remaining bits of his energy for the day. It’s poetic, really.

It doesn’t take long for him to have you naked, reluctantly pulling away from your warmth so he can strip you bare. There’s a slight sense of urgency as he’s taking off your clothes, hands heavily pawing at your thighs to spread them open for him.

“C’mon pretty, let me taste you. Think you can let me do that?” He waits, as always, for your consent. There’s always a mixture of light and darkness in his eyes whenever you two get intimate. As easy as it could be for him to take what he wants, he’d rather hear those filthy words leave your lips and watch as you bashfully turn away from his gaze.

Nonverbal answers are simply unacceptable, and you know this.

So why do you get choked up every time he looks at you like this?

All you could muster is a faint whimper, gently knocking your knee against his shoulder but the hold on your hips tighten, almost punishingly. “Ah ah ah. C’mon, y’know the rules. Don’t make me repeat myself,” the warning was clear, yet you know he had no fight left in him to punish you at all tonight. Despite the hardness in his voice, you can tell all he was looking forward to is hearing you cry out his name tonight.

“P-Please,” the kisses on your inner thighs are encouraging, hinting to what you desire most but denying you that bit of pleasure you so desperately desire. He can’t keep spoiling you forever. “Tooru, please eat me out! Wanna cum for you! Wanna be your good girl.”

He shushes you with a soft chuckle against your pelvic bone. “Music to my ears, baby girl. Don’t worry, daddy’ll take care of you~”

And he does! The same way he has you gripping the bedsheets with his tongue is the same when he’s finally fucking you on his dick. Bare chests against each other as he rocks his hips into you with a semi-steady beat. It’s raw, intense, and filled with broken versions of each other’s names.

He’s present the entire time, face buried deep into your neck as he loses himself in the feeling of your gummy and warm cunt. Dick drilling into you, using all eight inches to bury deep inside of you, hips angled at the perfect position so he is brushing against your womb with his tip. It’s absolutely intoxicating.

Oh, don’t be embarrassed when you cum too early. He’s kissing those pesky tears in the corners in your eyes, hips transfer to a gentle grind. “You’re good, sweetheart. You’re good. Hey, look at me.” It takes some coaxing, but when you finally manage to focus in on the chocolate eyes staring into yours, he’s greeting you with a smile. “There she is,” he cooes, rolling his hips against yours slowly.

“Hah, Tooru~”

“Think you can hold out for me, sweetheart?”

“Y-You didn’t-” it’s hard to focus on anything, what with the way his hips are involuntarily humping your heat. Control is slowly becoming harder for him to grasp, but he is doing his best. For you.

“I know baby, I know. I’m close though. Can I fuck you some more, hm? Just give me a couple more minutes” his question needs no begging. The response is immediate with the way you wrap your legs around his waist and start nodding that it nearly dizzies you. Another praise falls from his lips before he’s picking up his pace again.

For some reason, you’re more acutely aware of the balls slapping against your ass or the squelching sound that comes from between your legs whenever Tooru adjusts himself or the sounds of his moans getting louder the closer he got. The best part? It was all for you!

Pretty girl who he thinks about starting and ending his day. The one who puts all this trust in him, so much that he can freely do the things he wants with you with no hesitation. Even if it meant living with your dom with no issues or strings attached.

It’s true what he said, all he needed was a couple of minutes inside of your wet pussy before he was sitting up and pulling his hips back far enough so he could cover your lower body with his cum. It feels like fire against your skin, but you love it. All because it came from your special Tooru.

“Fuck, I love you so much Y/N,” he gently crooned to you.

“Love you too, Tooru~”

#🖤. thirst #🖤. oikawa #cw// d/s relations #oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #oikawa scenarios #haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu smut #tooru oikawa #toru oikawa #toru oikawa x reader #oikawa x fem!reader #i’m so— sick #i’m just gonna accept this crush while i’m ahead of myself 🤡#goodnight

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emeraldiis · 3 years

Text

Tied Hands Can’t Kill

A/N: welp, it’s finally here! Part two of Enough Trust for Us Both, enjoy!!

AO3 Link

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Summary: Bucky watches you, hungry eyes glued to your glistening fingers when you pull them out. His tongue comes out to drag across his lips, and you know what he wants.

Bucky’s afraid of hurting you, so you cuff him during sex. That’s pretty much the summary

Tonight’s date night. You have lots of fun things prepared: a nice dinner, a movie, several bottles of fine wine, and a shiny pair of vibranium handcuffs. The cuffs are out of sight, resting in your nightstand, but you still feel like they’re mocking you as you stir the spaghetti on the stove. Bucky’s out, meeting with Stark about some complicated feud with another country that you didn’t understand, and you’re anxiously awaiting his return. The noodles probably didn’t need to be stirred that much, but you need to keep busy. You have to keep your mind off of tonight if you want to make it through dinner.

You’re just setting out the plates as Bucky walks in. You’re greeted with a bear hug that nearly topples you over, and you manage to squeak out a warning before Bucky sends the tableware crashing to the ground.

Bucky steps back and holds you at arm's length, eyes softening as he gazes lovingly at you. “Sorry, doll. I missed you.”

You melt. A warm smile trickles across your face and you sigh happily. “I missed you, too. You hungry? I made pasta.”

As he inhales deeply, taking in the rich scent of your cooking, Bucky nearly starts drooling. “I’m starving,” he moans, making a beeline for the pot on the stove. You watch him go, rolling your eyes. Looks like you didn’t need to worry about filling his plate. With a shrug, you serve yourself, too.

Dinner is as good as you’d hoped it’d be. Bucky barely has time to breathe with how quickly he shovels food down his throat, mumbling compliments through a full mouth. You don’t mind his iffy manners; if he likes your cooking that much, then you’d let eat however he wanted. Even if that meant feeling like you were sitting across from a dog with a steak.

The wine disappears just as quickly as the food. You limit yourself to a few glasses, wanting a clear head for the night’s events, but Bucky does no such thing. Having an enhanced tolerance was both a blessing and a curse, you thought to yourself. On one hand, he could have as many glasses he wanted without worrying about getting a bit too tipsy, but on the other...you’ve seen him rack up one hell of a tab at a bar.

Finally sated, Bucky leans back in his chair and shoots you a grin. “Doll, I think I missed your cookin’ more than I missed you,” he teases.

A giggle bubbles up from your stomach. “I guess I’ll have to start ordering take out. Maybe it’ll make you appreciate me a bit more.”

“No,” Bucky whines, lips falling into a pout. “I take it back, I’m sure you’re better tasting than anything you can whip up in the kitchen.”

There it is again, that flirty side that you rarely get to witness. You try to encourage him, wanting more of that wicked mouth. “How about you see for yourself?” You pause, gauging Bucky’s reaction. When he holds your stare instead of looking away, you know you’re okay to keep going. “I, I have the cuffs.” Your face burns when Bucky’s eyes widen, like he hadn’t been expecting you to follow through on your promise. “You know, for later. If you want.” Your voice has lowered into something only a bit louder than a whisper, and you can feel yourself losing your nerve.

“Can we,” Bucky starts, pausing to swallow thickly. “Can we skip the movie?”

Your heart jumps, then picks back up its pounding rhythm. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears, can feel it drain all the way down to your stomach, and then between your legs. “Yeah, yeah we can do that.” Your voice sounds foreign, strange, through your ringing ears. You take another sip of wine, hoping to ease the anxiety. Nervousness swirls with excitement through your stomach. This is what you want, what you’ve been waiting for all these months, but now that it’s here? The butterflies feel like they have knives.

When he realizes that you’re frozen in place, Bucky stands, and makes it way over to you. You can tell that he’s half-hard in his black jeans, and your mouth starts to water. You swallow hard before rising from your chair and trying to step past Bucky, towards the hallway. He places a big hand on your shoulder, and you freeze again.

“Hey,” Bucky murmurs. He leans down to press his lips to the top of your head, and his breath tickles when it blows through your hair. “Breathe, baby. We don’t have to do-”

“No!” You say loudly, startling Bucky. Seeing his brow furrowed in worry, you force yourself to take a deep breath and collect yourself before continuing. “Sorry, I just...I don’t want to fuck this up. I want it to be good for both of us, so bad, and I’m scared you won’t enjoy it.”

With a stern look and a purse of his lips, Bucky gently grabs each of your arms and brings them around his neck. “Stop that,” he says, and your knees go to jelly when it comes out more as a command than a request. “Baby doll, whatever you end up doing, I promise you that I will enjoy it. I think you’re forgetting that I’ve dreamin’ about this, too.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “And you’ll tell me if I do something you don’t like?”

Bucky’s metal fingers come up to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face, and you close your eyes when the soothing cold of the metal touches your cheek. “I promise.”

You don’t make it past the doorway to the bedroom before Bucky has you up against the wall, kissing the life out of you. He’s still holding back, you notice, but this is progress. His metal arm is stuffed in his back pocket, keeping it away from you, but he’s using the other to support himself on the wall beside your head, boxing you in. You moan into his mouth, and Bucky pulls back instinctively. His pupils are blown wide and he’s panting, lips parted. “I think,” he whispers. “I think we need those handcuffs now.”

You’re quick to act, ducking past him to open your nightstand drawer and snatching them from their hiding place. The metal is so cold that it almost feels sharp, and you unconsciously hold the cuffs away from your body like they’re a dangerous animal. Something glints in Bucky’s eyes when he sees the handcuffs. He chews on his bottom lips, still standing near the entrance of the room. Deciding that he needs some...encouragement, you make a show of crawling onto the bed, making sure your skirt comes up just enough to reveal your black panties.

A growl sounds from behind you, and the bed dips as Bucky clambers on. He wastes no time in pushing past you, lying down and sliding to the headboard, putting his arms above his head obediently. “Someone’s eager, huh?” You laugh, scooting to the side of the bed to give Bucky more room.

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Don’t play dumb. You’re over here shaking that cute little ass in my face, how’s a man expected to resist that?” He wiggles his arms impatiently. “C’mon, sweet thing.” Now it’s you who needs encouragement. Bucky catches the uncertainty on your face and drops his arms to tug at the hem of his tight navy shirt. With a wink, he lifts the fabric up above his head, giving you an eyeful of those huge biceps and tight abs. The shirt gets tossed somewhere to the side, neither of you caring to notice where it lands.

A breath catches in your throat, and you shoot an apprehensive look to the cuffs dangling from your hand. Moving quickly before you lose your nerve, you slide over to Bucky and straddle his hips, then lean up to hook the handcuffs around his wrists. All the while, you keep a close eye on Bucky’s expression, watching for any sign of discomfort. You know that he probably has some pretty traumatic memories associated with being restrained; triggering those is the last thing you want to do.

To your relief, Bucky’s face stays open and trusting. He watches you with a rapt look, eyes lidded in arousal as you click the cuffs around the wooden headboard. “Don’t break my bed,” you with as stern of a voice as you can muster. Bucky bites his lip against what you just know is going to be some teasing remark. You stick your tongue out at him and sit back on your haunches, admiring your handiwork.

Bucky looks absolutely gorgeous. His arms are stretched up above him, and in his human arm the muscles ripple and bulge as he shifts. The look on his face is what kills you, though. He looks wrecked, lips bitten red and face flushed with a pretty shade of pink. You lean down to kiss him gently, grinning to yourself when he tries and fails to arch up and deepen the kiss. “Oh, baby. We haven’t even started and you’re already…” you trail off with a breathy sigh of adoration.

“Shut up,” Bucky shoots back, turning his head to the side as much as he can to avoid your gaze. “I-it’s been a while since I’ve, y’know.”

You immediately feel bad for teasing him. Wanting to kiss the frown off of Bucky’s lips, you place your fingers on the side of his jaw to turn his face back towards you. When he shivers, you trail a fingertip down his face, scratching a bit at the dark stubble there. Bucky trembles again, and you immediately press your mouth to his. Something in that kiss seems to set him off, because he wastes no time straining against his bonds and licking his way past your lips.

You moan around his tongue as it strokes yours. Now this is a proper kiss, nothing like those gentle pecks you had gotten so used to. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids when they fall shut, and everything in you wants to uncuff Bucky, to feel those strong hands grip your hips and pull you onto his cock. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought as your patience dissipates.

Reluctantly breaking away from the kiss, you slide down Bucky’s body until you reach the hem of his jeans. Your eyes flick back up to Bucky’s to silently ask for permission. He nods and blushes. Shaking fingers reach for the button, and although it takes you a few tries, you eventually manage to undo it. The sound of Bucky’s zipper being pulled down is deafening in the quiet room. Bucky sighs in relief as you relieve the pressure on his erection, and you nearly groan out loud at seeing the bulge in his dark red briefs. A loud clink startles you out of your daze, and you realize that Bucky’s straining against the cuffs, looking at you with desperation. “Please, doll. I’m done waiting.”

You can’t help but take pity on your squirming boyfriend. With a coy grin, you slide Bucky’s briefs down his legs and lower your head until his leaking cock is nearly brushing your lips. Bucky whines at you, and you flick your tongue out to catch the drop of precum beading at the tip. The reaction you get is explosive. Bucky cries out and arches up towards your mouth, metal arm whirring loudly as he struggles against his bonds. You place a hand on his hip to soothe him, but also as a warning to settle down before he works himself up too much.

Wide eyes meet yours, and then they close while Bucky takes deep breaths. He forces himself to relax against the pillows, jaw clenched. “Sorry,” he half-whispers. His voice sounds wrecked already. “‘M bein’ good. Can you...?”

It’s impossible to resist; Bucky’s so submissive, so willing to please you, and it’s driving you crazy. Taking a breath, you dive down to suck him into your mouth, fighting back a smile when his hips jerk under your hand. Fortunately, Bucky seems to have gotten a handle on himself. Muscles tense, he manages to keep from choking you as you let your jaw adjust to the stretch.

You breathe through your nose, sinking lower until you’re almost nestled against his stomach, then pull back, dragging your tongue along the bottom ridge. That earns you a soft curse, so you repeat the motion, soon getting into a steady rhythm that has Bucky groaning and pleading for more. Just once, you overestimate your abilities and have to fight back a gag, but that only seems to arouse Bucky further. You begin to swirl your tongue around the head on the upstrokes, and it isn’t long before Bucky’s pulsing in your mouth, ready to spend down your throat. “S-stop, fuck, stop,” Bucky whimpers. “Don’t wanna cum yet.” Despite his protests, Bucky’s hips twitch again and again in little aborted thrusts.

As much as you want Bucky’s cum dripping down your throat, you back off, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. “You ready?” You ask, already unzipping your skirt and pulling it off along with your dripping panties. You’re more than ready, so wet that you doubt you’ll need any preparation. Still, you lean back and dip two fingers into yourself just to check.

Bucky watches you, hungry eyes glued to your glistening fingers when you pull them out. His tongue comes out to drag across his lips, and you know what he wants. Feeling a bit shy, but wanting to drive Bucky even wilder than you already have, you slowly reach out your hand until your fingers are hovering in front of Bucky’s face; an invitation. One that he graciously accepts, eagerly taking your fingers into his mouth. Bucky’s eyes nearly roll back as he tastes you, soft tongue lapping at your skin like it’s coated in a priceless wine.

“Buck,” you moan softly. “Lemme ride you, I wanna cum on your cock.” Your eager hands are frantic, undoing the stubborn buttons of your blouse as fast as you can manage. Bucky instinctively moves to help you, growling when the cuffs halt his movement. You feel dizzy with power, head swimming as you look down at Bucky. You could do anything to him, and for a moment you’re overwhelmed by the realization that he would let you. All you want to do is make him feel good.

You slide the blouse off of your shoulders--Bucky’s eyes nearly bug out of his head when he sees that you’re braless--and bring your trembling fingers to caress the scruff at Bucky’s jaw. He leans into your touch, and you’re not sure which one of you is shaking worse. “Can I make you feel good now, baby?” You ask, voice a raspy drawl that sounds foreign to your ears. Bucky barely has the chance to nod before you start to kiss up his neck. Whatever response he had planned dies on the tip of his tongue as you drag yours across his skin.

Oh-so carefully, you reach under you to grasp Bucky’s throbbing cock and guide it to your soaked entrance. The second the head makes contact with your pussy, Bucky gasps wildly and jerks his hips up. He slips from your grasp as he manages to slip into your sex with little resistance. Your core clenches around the stretch and you moan raggedly. Fuck, he feels amazing. Thick and long and hitting every single spot that makes your toes curl.

You collapse onto Bucky’s chest with a whimper, trying your hardest to adjust to his size. Bucky nuzzles into your hair and murmurs words of encouragement, choked out praises. When your body stops feeling like it’s about to burst into flames, you brace your hands on either side of Bucky’s head and raise yourself up off of his hips. When you slide back down, both of you groan. You lift up again, and before you can make another move, Bucky shakes his head.

“Stay right there, doll. Keep those hips up for me,” he growls, and you don’t dare disobey. “I’m gonna wreck you, honey.” You’ve completely lost the upper hand; what dominance you may have had vanished the instant Bucky gave you an order.

You nearly bite through your lip when Bucky starts pistoning into you from below, each thrust knocking the wind out of you. He doesn’t start out slow, years of celibacy making him feral and desperate. You want to kiss him, grab his hair, something, but you’re frozen in place, helpless. Bucky snaps his hips into your ass with inhuman speed, and the obscene smacks of skin against skin sound like thunderclaps. It’s nothing compared to the sounds that fall from Bucky’s lips, though.

“Fuck, baby. Love how that p-pussy’s gripping me so tight.” Growls and groans interrupt his filthy praise, but it only makes him sound sexier. Gasps tear from your throat with every breath, and your eyes roll back. “Yeah, you fucking love it, don’t you? Look at you, taking my cock so good. You’re mine. ”

The more Bucky talks, the closer you creep to the edge. You can feel it in your stomach, coiling tight and hot. “Bucky, I’m, I’m gonna-”

“Oh, god. Cum on me, baby doll. I, ah, I wanna feel it.” Bucky’s hair is sweat slicked, sticking to his face. His brows are knitted tight together, betraying his confidence. You feel his hips stuttering, then look down at those cloudy eyes and know he’s close, too. The cuffs rattle and the headboard creaks, and that’s what does you in. Knowing that Bucky is bound, and he is still the one absolutely ruining you for anyone else.

A cry of “Bucky!” escapes your mouth as your head snaps back. Your entire body goes rigid as you climax, pleasure rippling across your nerves like tiny atom bombs. Bucky keens as he feels you clamp around him, and fights to keep his hips moving to work you through your orgasm. It’s too much, though, and he sobs your name as he spills inside of you, going slack against the cuffs.

Your shaking thighs finally give out, and you sag against Bucky. As both of you attempt to catch your breath, euphoria settles over you like a cool blanket. It was about fucking time. With how Bucky just fucked you within an inch of your life, you decide that it was worth the wait. Still, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t tease Bucky just a bit. “I think if that headboard can survive being assaulted like that, I’ll be just fine,” you say, voice still unsteady.

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” He wiggles his arms. “Can you get me out of these, though? I wanna hold my doll after making love to her.”

Your cheeks flush, but you roll off of Bucky to retrieve the key from your nightstand. With some fiddling, you unlock the handcuffs and set Bucky free. He stretches, loosening his stiff muscles, then pulls you back to his solid chest, stroking your tangled hair. “Thank you,” he whispers so softly that you aren’t sure if he actually said anything.

“Anything for you,” you reply just as quietly. You shift a bit to get more comfortable, and hear a crack. “Please tell me that wasn’t the headboard.”

Bucky glances up, then pats your head reassuringly. “It wasn’t the headboard.”

“Then what was it?”

“It was definitely the headboard.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel #mcu #tfatws #bucky imagine #fluff and smut

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christinesficrecs · 3 years

Note

Hey Christine! :D Hope you're having a good day, but I was wondering if you'll be able to recommend your favourite mpreg fics? Thank you so much for your time! :)

I’m so glad you asked! It was on my list but not everyone likes them 🤷🏻‍♀️ Anyways, I love the first one so much!! Also, Grimm’s fic has been deleted so the wayback version is linked or check the dropbox. Lastly, Dexterous_Sinistrous writes all the mpreg fics and they are ALL amazing! Find them here.

The Second Coming (of Werewolf Jesus) by lupinus, uraneia | 40.1K | Explicit

Stiles was enjoying his senior year until his crazy English teacher decided he made the best candidate to gestate Derek's kid. Now Stiles is a seventeen-year-old pregnant dude and he and Derek have to figure their shit out, because in nine months they are going to be tied together for the rest of their lives.

a mountain to climb by grimm | 126.4K | Explicit

"Don’t do it,” he mutters. “Don’t do it, please, don’t do it.”

But there it is, a soft pink line appearing right next to the control. Stiles’ legs give out from under him; he sinks to the bathroom floor, hands shaking, his entire body shaking. It’s hard to breathe, his vision blurring around the edges. There’s a knock on the door behind him and then it opens and Scott sits down next to him.

“I’m fucked,” Stiles gasps, tears prickling at his eyes. “I’m fucked!"

The Well of Living Waters by kalpurna | 30.3K | Explicit

King Derek takes a consort.

Ukochany by VincentMeoblinn | 34.1K | Explicit

Derek comes home to find a mail order husband and two amused betas waiting for him. When he realizes their prank was far from harmless he ends up saddled with a husband who barely speaks English but insists Derek is the love of his life. He's also determined to win him over.

Survival of the Species by Lissadiane | 19.3K | Explicit

In which Derek's pack is apparently stable enough to begin planning for the future, and somehow, the universe has decided Stiles is the perfect candidate to bear his alpha's children.

Settle Down by wearing_tearing, whatthehale | 153.1K | Explicit

Stiles is a struggling author barely making ends meet.

Derek is a successful architect whose biological clock is ticking.

Enter a surrogacy agency, two packs, and a particularly sticky and toe curling heat week and you get a match made in heaven.

No Vacancy by KaliopeshipsIt | 34.9K | Mature

"29-Year Old Omega (muscular/scruffy/perpetual sourface) Seeking for Alpha-Baby-Daddy. Might or might not be named Stiles"

Derek is an unusually muscular Omega with irregular heats and dumb luck.

Stiles is an unusually polite Alpha who forgets to leave his number.

Laura is a furious Alpha who wants to wear Stiles' balls on a golden chain.

Cora is a pragmatic Alpha who composes Craigslist ads.

From This Moment by SylviaW | 16.7K | Mature

After discovering Derek is pregnant, Stiles offers to be his “Pregnancy Buddy.” On top of the usual difficulties of carrying a child, Stiles has to navigate Derek’s emotional turmoil from the traumatic event that conceived the baby, and his own feelings that he’s developing for Derek.

Your Baby and Me by tearsandholdme | 134.4K | Mature

“Him, you recommended, and he seems fit for the job,” Derek said, handing the application to her flashing a charming smile. “Stiles Stilinski, he's going to carry my pup.”

Lunches, Knitting and Definitely Not Dating by attackofthezee (noxlunate)

So, I uh, managed to get myself pregnant.”

“You what?!”

“Got myself pregnant. Y’know, up the duff, knocked up, a bun in the oven, in a family way, eating for two, with child. I could go on Dad, really, stop me before I exhaust the list of pregnancy euphemisms. There’s still caught an 18 year STD, my eggo is preggo, building a person-“

“Stiles.”

I Still Believe by IAmAVeronica | 111.4K | Explicit

War is hell. Falling in love with enemy solider Derek Hale, secretly mating him, and then accidentally being left behind by him when the war suddenly and violently ends is a special kind of hell apparently reserved for one human omega Stiles Stilinski. But Stiles is determined to find his mate again, because Derek left more than just Stiles in a war-ravaged and werewolf-hating country - and with danger at every turn and nothing but Derek's gun and his own wits for protection, hell hath no fury like Stiles now.

Things We Lost by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 20K | Explicit

Who … who am I to wed?”

A small flash of guilt covered the king’s features before he was able to recover. “Your union will join the royal families—joining our family to the Hales.”

Dread and sorrow sunk in Stiles’ stomach as he closed his eyes.

There was only one Hale left unharmed by the great fire that nearly wiped out the entire royal family—the Dread Wolf of Triskelia, Crowned King Derek Hale.

monday i can fall apart but by friday i'm in love by tryslora | 5.6K | Mature

It's just past five in the morning and Stiles is barely awake, wearing only sleep pants that hang low below his pregnant belly, and he can't get the damned brand new jar of decaf coffee open. But he has a neighbor, and he's too tired to think that waking someone else up at this hour might not be the best (or politest) of ideas.

#asks #sterek fics #ficrecs #mpreg #pregnant stiles #pregnant derek #highonwhiskeyfumes

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dragonsareourfuture · 3 years

Text

Death Note/GN!Reader — PDA Preferences

⚠️some swearing and mentions of making out and stuff. Still sfw, but Matt’s mentions one or two suggestive themes. That’s about it~

One of my more recent scenarios for ya! I may or may not have accidentally written two entire paragraphs for Mello’s but it’s fineeee.

Mello

While Mello was spending most of his time in the Mafia hideout, he absolutely adored showing you off in front of all his goons. They’d whoop and whistle as he placed an intense greeting kiss to your lips when you arrived, and you could tell he was thriving from not only the attention, but also these powerful Mafia members acknowledging the fact that you’re with Mello, none of them can lay a finger on you without getting absolutely wrecked.

But, as his physical and psychological state dwindled after the explosion and the scar on his face became the first thing people usually saw, he started liking pda a lot less. It made him paranoid that he’d look like a fool cozying up to you when his face looked the way that it did, which led to irritation and then to him just avoiding PDA altogether. It hurt your heart to see him so...defeated, wondering where his bite went. So, if you start to initiate PDA, pointedly giving his scar some extra love, he would be gently eased back into his more confident nature, but it will take time and a lot of patience.

Light

Light thrives off of showing you off to the task force. It’s usually pretty innocent stuff since his literal father is there, too. He’s very adamant about convincing L that “yes, I do have human emotions and I am not a narcissist” so he’ll take every opportunity to hold you close, kiss you on the forehead, anything that clears him even slightly of being Kira. Oh, also because he loves you :)

L isn’t fond of the kind of pda where you two are eating each other’s faces in front of the task force or even really holding hands or cuddling. What he does enjoy is when you show him subtle displays of affection, such as calling him “sweetheart” or kissing his hair or forehead, and sometimes he’ll allow you to boop his nose.

He isn’t one for giving the affection in public, but sometimes he will take your hand, cup it in his own, and kiss your knuckles. This is usually used to say “hello” or “goodbye” nonverbally or to just show you that he loves you after a particularly hard day and the task force is still around so he can’t start complaining about them yet.

Matsuda

Having been teased and told to shut up constantly by his coworkers, finally having someone to flaunt provides a major boost to his ego. Whenever you’re together at headquarters he can’t help being all lovey-dovey. Pecking your cheek whenever he walks past you, writing you little notes and not being too quiet about it when passing them on to you, sometimes even encouraging you to read them aloud. This greatly annoys L and when Matsuda says that L’s just crabby because he’s single you have to grab Matsuda and book it outta there before L or Chief can chew him out.

Misa

Misa adores showing you off to literally anyone. She gets a real kick out of bugging Light and Ryuzaki with her ability to go outside and go on dates and do things with someone else without being handcuffed together. Y’know, those usual human rights that most people have. So imagine her delight when she remembers that she can annoy them by simply being cute with you in the same room as them! She’ll act like a koala bear, always latched onto you. She likes repeatedly pecking your cheeks and squishing them up as she insists you look like a “cute little pufferfish” when she does that.

Matt

He literally couldn’t give a shit who’s watching, usually it’s Mello (much to the blonde’s discomfort). Matt does not hold back. He’ll kiss you on the cheek, lean into you as he plays his games, or just fucking grab you and start making out. The Pope could be watching and he’d grab your butt. It literally doesn’t matter to him. In his mind, anyone who has a problem with it can fuck right off because he wants to show his baby that he loves them!

Also, Matt’s kind of a brat. He’ll tease you in public by embarrassing you with physical affection or, if you’re not easily embarrassed by that, he takes to seeing how far you’ll let him go with people around. Obviously you’re not feeling each other up in the middle of a store, it’s more along the lines of hugs, Eskimo kisses, burying his head in your neck or chest while claiming it’s too cold in the middle of summer. That kind of thing.

Near

Shy boy, super shy boy. What can he say? He’s never been the type to really do that kind of thing. Hell, he barely goes out in public to begin with. Although sometimes, though it’s not really “public” since only the SPK is around to see, he will sit by your feet like a cat as he huddles on the floor and plays with his toys. He doesn’t complain when you give him head pats while he does this, and at times if he really wants your attention he’ll place your hand on his head for you. And sometimes, if the stars are perfectly aligned and he actually gets tired, Near will place his chin atop your lap and close his eyes like a little puppy. It’s the sweetest sight, but treasure it when it happens because that is RARE. But that’s about as close to PDA as he gets. If there are more people than the SPK around to witness, it’s a no-go altogether.

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chaoticnerdsstuff · 3 years

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Do you have any Azutara head-canons or AUs?

Here’s an Au where I completely ignore the comics and Lok LMAOO

YES i do have HC'S (btw these aren’t in order)

Katara would be the one to be most supportive of Azula, and her most frequent visitor when they threw her in the… y’know.

Azula HATED Katara at first, She hated that this was the person to defeat her. She hated the fact that Katara always made time in her busy schedule to visit her. She hated that Katara was being kind to her. She hated that she was so sure that her brother was likely the one to convince katara to do this. But never once did she tell her to go away, did she try to push her away with insults? Yes. Did it work? No.

Katara only chose to help Azula because she witnessed her Mental breakdown, and it didn’t help that she knew of Zuko’s and Azula’s Homelife.

Katara was the first person to realize that Azula lost her bending(Headcanon of mine that Azula lost her bending for a few years after her mental breakdown)

It took them both years to realize they had feelings for each other and a few months to actually act on them.

Katara would often gush about Azula to Zuko, while he braided her hair. While Azula simply told her best friend, who is toph, that Katara was attractive and Toph made crude jokes that made the princess laugh her ass off.

After being released from her cell, Azula lived in the South Pole for a year, to her surprise she wasn’t beaten to death for what she has done to them in the past.

Katara and Azula often can’t sleep well, even before they get together if they are in the same place. They would end in each other’s arms for comfort.

Katara is able to read Azula like an open book, the same is for Azula.

Azula is the most awkward flirt Katara’s ever seen and she absolutely loves that about her. Azula gets flustered with a single compliment out of Katara’s mouth. Toph tried to do what Katara did and gave Azula a simple compliment, but all Azula did was call her a dumbass.

Azula is the most physically affectionate of the two.

Azula isn’t overly protective of Katara knowing what she is capable of but the same could not be said about Katara. If someone just gives them a look, she will take them down with her words, Azula loves it.

Katara is the one to encourage Azula to give her mother a chance.

When Azula and Katara play Pai sho, Azula does not care if the woman is her partner she will destroy her. Katara on the other hand doesn’t understand the game and somehow wins 90% of the time. Since then Azula swears Katara is not only a master in water bending but in strategic skill.

Katara is horrible at making Tea. Azula never tells her, when Iroh went to their house and was offered tea by Katara, he almost spat it out in an instant if it weren’t for Azula who was giving him a death glare. Azula refuses to admit that she loves Tea, just not katara’s.

Azula doesn’t mind if she’s a little or a small spoon, Katara usually prefers being big spoon.

Azula and Katara are both morning people! Even if they usually have all-nighters.

Katara practically babysits every time her girlfriend and Toph are in the same room

When they get arguments they both make each other Tea, sit in silence, then begin talking about what and why the topic upset them.

Azula regains her bending when she is in her late twenties but doesn’t use it unless necessary, Mostly uses it to show off to Katara and ZuZu.

Katara still gets nightmares of Azula screaming out flames, And Azula still gets nightmares of her time in that cell. They don’t talk about it until one of them begins shouting in their nightmares.

Azula asked for the permission of Hakoda and Sokka to marry Katara. Sokka knowing how much the woman changed gladly accepted her into the family. Hakoda and Azula got high together and Azula revealed how much she cared about Katara, and Hakoda gave her his blessing. Unknown to Azula, Katara asked for Zuko’s and Toph’s blessing, obviously, Zuko broke out into tears while Toph punched him and told him to get a hold of himself.

Aang officiated their wedding!! Zuko walked Azula down the Aisle and Hakoda walked Katara down the aisle as well.

Since Azula was the first to get married, Ursa often nagged her about wanting Grandchildren. It usually went like this “Mother I am a lesbian” “You can always adopt!” And they have three kids: Oldest is Lu Ten(Water bender), Youngest is Kya(Fire bender), and Eldest is Mira(Earth bender) :D

Katara and Azula get married in the Southern Water Tribe and just throw a party in the fire nation, much to Ursa’s dismay.

Since Zuko got his own dragon, Azula was jealous, so Katara gifted her a Polar bear dog, which was named Fikhar. Which Azula adored from the beginning

When Azula went to the southern water tribe to visit her girlfriend/wife she offered Hakoda and Sokka advice, which they almost always took.

Azula and Katara raised their kids quite oddly, 6 months in the southern pole and the other six months in the Fire Nation. This went on for ten years before they settled down in the southern Water tribe.

Azula was the cool aunt who gave Izumi all these gifts and candies while Katara was the one who told Izumi not to burn down the courtyard or play with her mother’s knives.

#kazula #Katara #Azula #azula x katara #master katara #Fire princess Azula #Zuko #toph beifong #fire lord izumi #Oc children #Hakoda and Azula would get drunk together #Platonic Tophzula #Sokka #hakoda #redeemed azula #azula deserved better #Ursa #uncle iroh #azutara

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beelsnack · 4 years

Note

Henlo!!! Just wanted to request MC getting surprised by the demon bros in the human realm! The bros miss MC a lot so they just surprise them and hang out for a bit :) it can be HCs! Thank you and I love ya work ❤️

Henlo!! Get ready for some fluff, my dudes.

I don’t know why, but this seemed better as short little headcanons as opposed to my usual scenarios.

-----

Lucifer

- He had expressly forbade any of his brothers from going up to the human world, because “they needed time to readjust.”

- But apparently Pridey McPrideface is exempt from his own rules.

- He does his research. If the human still lives with their parents or has roommates, he picks a night when they are home alone.This night is reserved for the two of them, and he will eviscerate anyone who gets in the way.

- Honestly, he wants to do some sort of grand entrance, but in the end, he simply knocks on the door.

- “Hello, my dear,” he takes their hand and kisses their knuckles. “I’ve missed you.”

- “Lucifer!” they tackle him with a hug strong enough to knock over a lesser demon. In his peripheral, Lucifer sees a neighbor stick their head out of the door and look around with a confused look.

- “You have nosy neighbors, I see.”

“Well, I mean, I did just scream ‘Lucifer...’”

“Perhaps we should go inside before someone calls a priest?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

- The two of them spend the night in their living room, just talking. They ask if he wants to go out somewhere, but he declines.

“This is the most relaxed I’ve been in centuries. I’m perfectly satisfied with staying in with you.”

- He hadn’t intended to stay the night, but it was near impossible to resist the offer. And that would end up being his downfall.

- He had forgotten about that stupid game that his brothers and the human liked to play, where they got pictures of each other sleeping. And, just as he couldn’t resist the temptation to spend the night with them, they couldn’t resist the temptation to steal a picture while he slept.

- When he arrived back at the House of Lamentation, all six of his brothers were waiting for him in the entrance hall.

- “So, where ya been, Luci?” Mammon sneered. “Ya couldn’t have possibly snuck off to visit the human after makin’ damn sure you told us not to do that, now could ya?”

“It’s not like our dear eldest brother to do something so hypocritical.” Satan said coolly, regarding Lucifer with a raised eyebrow.

“...I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” Lucifer huffed.

“’Hey guys! How many points is a sleeping Lucifer worth?’” Levi turned his phone around to show Lucifer a picture of his own sleeping face, with the human’s laughing eyes just poking out from the bottom corner.

“...Oh.”

He wasn’t living this one down for a while.

Mammon

- This sneaky little bastard straight up just climbs into their room in the middle of the night.

- You know, like he DIDN’T live in a completely different realm.

- The human damn near punches him in the face when he wakes them up.

- “Mammon, what the actual fuck are you doing?”

“Visiting, what’s it look like?”

“To my neighbors, probably breaking and entering.”

- They should kick him out, all they have to do is issue a pact command. But Mammon looks at them with his sad blue eyes and they just can’t bring themself to do it.

- “I got so used to ya...y’know...sleeping next to me.” he shuffled around like a kid waiting to get scolded. “It’s hard to fall asleep when ya ain’t there.”

“Shut up and cuddle with me, you big baby.”

- They stay up stupidly late watching vine compilations and talking until they straight up just pass out against each other. They stay like that for the rest of the night.

- And by rest of the night I mean until freaking noon the next day. And the only reason they wake up then is because Lucifer is blowing up Mammon’s phone.

- “Mammon, where are you?”

“If you’re out clubbing, be back at a reasonable hour. If you’re out scheming, don’t come back until you have something to show for it.”

“You better not have passed out in a gutter somewhere. We have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

“Mammon, please tell me you didn’t directly disobey an order and go visit the Human Realm.”

Four unread voicemails.

“Welp, you’re fucked.”

“Thanks, human, love you too.”

Leviathan:

- Social anxiety is a bitch and a half, so he just asks if he can come visit.

-Deadass just portals into their living room like “’Sup, I brought games, go get some snacks and get prepared to get rekt.”

- That’s it, that’s the visit.

- They decide to do multiplayer vs some other humans and they wipe the floor with them.

- “Eat it, normies, I’M the one playing with a hot person! Have fun in your moms’ basements!”

“Pot meet kettle, Levi.”

“I don’t live in a basement, though!”

“Fair point. Boom, headshot!”

- Levi manages to sleep over without repercussions solely because nobody is surprised if he doesn’t show up somewhere.

Satan

- Makes direct eye contact with Lucifer as he leaves the House of Lamentation and goes “Don’t wait up.”

-Times his surprise visit so he’s made himself comfortable with a book and a cup of coffee when they get home.

- They brought a friend over to study or whatever. The human sees him in the middle of the living room and just screeches “Satan, what the fuck?”

-The friend is like “Aight imma head out.” And like goes into witness protection.

- Satan comes bearing gifts of the newest installments of Devildom book series’ and a recording of the episodes of the crime dramas that they need to catch up on.

- They pause between each episode to talk theories even though Satan already knows what happens. Both of them feel proud of the human when they figure it out.

- Mammon texts Satan in the middle of the night in absolute terror.

Mammon: Satan you get your ass back to the Devildom right now!

Satan: Why?

Mammon: Because Lucifer is about to rip a hole through the dimensions to drag you back here!

Satan: That sounds like a Lucifer problem.

Mammon: It’s about to be a Three Realms problem!

- Read 2:09 AM

Asmodeus

- He just tells Lucifer he’s going to visit Solomon.

- And makes sure to tell him that if Lucifer decides to interrupt him, he will gladly let him listen to all of the naughty things they’re going to be doing.

- And Lucifer just straight up doesn’t want to deal with his shit so he lets it go.

- The human comes home to see Asmo stretched out on their bed scrolling through Devilgram.

- “Ugh, finally! You took forever!”

“Asmo? What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was planning on seducing you, but I absolutely refuse to have sex on a bed that moans louder than I do.”

- They go on a cute little cafe date and Asmo insists on going to all of the high-end fashion stores.

- “Devildom fashion trends always seem a few decades behind the human world. Honestly, it wasn’t until about five years ago that I could find a skirt above my knees! You would think a Realm full of sin and vice would be a little more up-to-date with provocative attire.”

- FASHION. SHOW.

-They spend an absurd amount of time trying on tacky jewelry and roasting it via Snapchat. Like, the employee showed up on Asmo’s story as they were kicking them out.

- They buy a bottle of liquor on their way back to the human’s place, get absolutely smashed and, depending on your preference, either have the giggliest sex ever or watch stupid beauty hack videos. Maybe both. Actually, definitely both.

- The next morning, Asmo does an Inter-dimensional Walk of Shame and no one is surprised.

Beelzebub

- Was going to lie about where he was going but felt guilty about it.

- So he just didn’t tell anyone.

-Knocks on the human’s door and immediately gives them the biggest bear hug.

- “I missed you, so I came to visit. That’s okay, right?”

- Beel wants to go out to eat, but the human flat out says no because they can’t afford to wine and dine the Avatar of Gluttony.

- They compromise by buying a crapton of snacks at the grocery store.

- Cashier: Must be a big party you’re having.

Human, grabbing a family size bag of chips out of Beel’s hand without even turning to look at him: Yup.

- They make themselves a blanket fort in their living room, watching movies and eating way too many snacks. Beel asks them questions about their family and their life up there. If the human has photos, he wants to see all of them.

-The human falls asleep mid-movie, slumping against his shoulder. Beel picks them up and tucks them into bed, planning on leaving to let them rest before they sleepily ask him to spend the night.

Belphegor

- Convinces Mammon to cover for him.

- Does this by going “Please, Big Brother?” and Mammon caves almost immediately.

- Pops into the human’s bedroom in the early hours of the morning and wiggles into bed with them.

- “Why am I not surprised?”

“Missed you too.”

- Human just accepts the snuggles and goes back to sleep. Belphie makes sure they have good dreams.

- If they have work or school, Belphie convinces them to call in sick and spend the day with him.

- Lots of naps and sleepy kisses. The chillest day ever.

- The human feels so relaxed that they almost convince Belphie to stay another night, and Belphie almost agrees.

- But Mammon’s ability to bullshit will only last so long, and Belphie knows he needs to go back before someone notices that his “afternoon nap” was going on 14 hours.

- “Come see me in my dreams, okay?”

#ask #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie

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owl-with-a-pen · 3 years

Text

Kara had been putting on a brave face all afternoon. Alex figured it would have been a little more obvious to everyone had it not been for the fact that they all were.

Each of them had been affected by the Phantom’s fear visions to some degree, but in typical Super Friends fashion, they’d found the remedy to those fears in each other’s company.

It almost felt too normal, gathering at Kara’s apartment, playing board games, eating and drinking, laughing and pretending that the last few weeks had been nothing but a bad dream.

Nothing was that easy, though, no matter how hard they tried. After all, it didn’t escape Alex that Lena had more than overindulged in her fair share of scotch since her arrival, or that Nia had practically remained glued to Brainy’s side the whole afternoon, fiddling with the life projectors beneath his shirt as they lay curled against each other on the couch. Brainy held her just as tightly in return, as though he was afraid to let her go. It was clear he was way more on edge than normal, hyper-aware of his surroundings, startling at just about any loud noise. So much so that the pop from the champagne cork earlier that day had very nearly sent him reeling right out of the room. After that, Alex had put the group on a strict twist off cap rule for any future bottles that were to be opened in Brainy’s presence.

Alex knew that Kelly had seen something awful there as well, but her girlfriend had been doing everything to keep the morale of the team boosted, instead assuring her that she was working through it on her own terms, and that she wanted Alex to feel comfortable talking to her about her own nightmare as well.

As much as Alex wanted to take Kelly up on that offer - right now - sitting there with her friends, drink in hand and her sister’s head resting on her shoulder… this was how she was getting by. She didn’t need to talk it out, at least not in that moment. Being in the presence of her family, feeling the soft fibres of Kara’s cardigan between her fingers, this was more than enough to keep her fears at bay.

But, she knew that Kara was struggling.

Despite the strength Kara was trying desperately to maintain, Alex could see the strain behind every smile. Even now she was home safe, decked in sweats and curled up under her favourite blanket, it didn’t take from the fact that whatever she’d seen in the Phantom Zone still lived within her. Providing all the comforts in the world wasn’t going to change that.

Still, having a chance to focus on family, junk food and stupid card games was at least beginning to alleviate some of the tension in the room. By the time day rolled into night, the laughter they shared together felt that much more genuine, and Alex was even able to goad Kara into a very competitive, high-stakes game of Trivial Pursuit.

Brainy and Nia won, not like the room stood much of a chance against a twelfth-level intellect who had also taken the opportunity of studying even more pop-culture references since his stint in 2009. But, with the alcohol running through everyone’s systems, the match had been closer than any one before it.

Eventually though, it was time for the Super Friends to head home for the evening. Well, everyone apart from Alex. She’d been pretty clear from the moment game night had been proposed that there was no way in hell she was leaving her sister alone that night.

If anything, Kara had seemed relieved at the idea. Alex knew she was still processing everything that had happened, but the horrors of that place were still fresh on her mind. Maybe she hadn’t been alone, maybe she had found family along the way, but that didn’t take from the awful things Kara had witnessed, even with her father at her side.

Alex wasn’t sure what to think of Zor-El quite yet. J’onn had given him a place to crash at the Tower while he gathered his bearings on Earth, and she knew he’d likely be contacting Argo very soon with the news of his survival. Kara hadn’t spoken much about her father since getting back, but then again, she’d spoken so little about her time in the Phantom Zone that Alex didn’t think it strange. She was looking to move past this.

They all were.

Just… moving past it wasn’t going to be as easy as they were hoping for. Kelly was already trying to encourage everyone into a group session to talk things out, although the bottle of wine she’d toted had probably made her sound a little too eager about the idea at the time. In any case, Alex hadn’t missed how Kara had shrunk into the sofa at the suggestion, or how quickly she’d diverted the subject before Kelly had a chance to go into any details.

She’d have to talk to someone eventually, and privately Alex hoped that Kara might let her in. Since Brainy and Nia had gone back in time, Alex couldn’t help but fall back to those years when she’d left Kara behind for college, how anchored she’d still felt to her sister’s life even from miles away. There were times she’d blamed Kara for everything in her life that wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t take from the moments, however small, where things had been just that.

Perfect.

The longer Kara had spent in Midvale, the more she’d opened up about her home world. Alex had found the topic all kinds of uncomfortable at first, serving as yet another reminder that she was responsible for this alien tween that had somehow stumbled into their lives, disturbing her otherwise normal existence. But, Kara had been able to fill every one of her stories about Krypton with such wonder. Even when she hadn’t been fully confident with English, she’d still managed to describe her planet with such passion that Alex could even imagine those great glass spires for herself, could see the vast cities that glimmered in the distance from Kara’s old bedroom window.

Kara had never managed to get through one of those stories without crying.

Alex could still remember clambering over to Kara’s bed in the dead of night, bundling her adopted sister in her arms, expecting it to feel so alien, so wrong. But, it hadn’t. If anything, it had been the most natural thing in the world.

She’d whispered to her then, rocking her, telling her oh so gently that everything would be okay.

Kara had believed her every time.

Now, though?

Now, Alex wasn’t so sure.

Once the party disbanded, neither one of them had the energy to say much to each other, but that didn’t matter. Sharing one another’s space was more than enough. Assuring Kara that she wasn’t alone tonight - that was enough. It had to be.

When Kara headed to bed, Alex set about making herself comfortable on the couch, curling beneath the duvet that Kara had left out for her.

She didn’t remember falling asleep, which only made it all the more alarming when she was suddenly jerked awake some hours later.

Alex’s throat was dry, and there was a crick in her neck where she’d been lying awkwardly across the sofa’s arm. She groaned out, raising her hands in a half-assed defensive stance that would have been way more threatening had she actually had a firearm to grab a hold of and not a medium sized throw pillow.

“Alex?”

Kara’s voice, trailing feebly in the dark. Alex blinked, finding her sister’s bright eyes staring at her in the dim setting of the apartment. Even with no visible source of light, they still managed to shimmer, like tiny beams of sunlight had been captured within her irises.

“Hey,” Alex managed, clearing her throat with some effort. She frowned, reaching for her sister’s arm. “Are you okay?”

Kara’s lips trembled into a weak smile. “I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted.

“Figures,” Alex said, noting the state of her sister’s hair. It was tied up into a messy bun that had clearly fallen victim to Kara’s violent tossing and turning habit. Alex forced herself into a half decent sitting position, glancing towards the kitchen. “What d’you think, will tea and honey cut it?” she asked, feigning a dramatized yawn. “Or, do we have to pull out the big guns?”

Kara’s smile widened. “Oh, big guns for sure.”

“Hot cocoa it is.” Alex grinned. “You can boil the water.”

---

Ten minutes later, Alex found herself sat on Kara’s bed, legs crossed as she nursed her piping mug of hot cocoa, enhanced with a generous splash of whiskey. Kara did the same, taking a sip before she closed her eyes, leaning her back against the head rest.

“Oh Rao that’s good,” she murmured.

“Y’know, I think I’ve even improved upon mom’s recipe,” Alex mused. “The student becomes the teacher, or whatever.”

“Don’t tell Eliza that, she’ll kill you.”

Alex pulled a face. “God, never. She’ll take that recipe to her grave.”

Kara chuckled, sobering slightly. She pressed her lips together, staring down into her mug. “I missed this,” she murmured. “When I was… trapped there… everything felt so bleak. Like the world was trying to suck the happiness right out of me.” She shuddered, tightening her grip around her mug. “I tried to hold onto happy memories, the taste of my favourite foods, anything that’d keep me grounded. But, the longer I was there, the more I thought I’d never find that happiness again.” She breathed out sharply, forcing a smile. “That I’d never taste hot cocoa again.”

“I can’t imagine what it was like,” Alex said softly. “I mean… we were only there for a few hours and look how badly it affected us. You were there for weeks and I—” Alex choked, shaking her head. “Things got pretty bleak here, too. And, well, let’s just say I didn’t need a Phantom to start losing hope.”

“Alex-”

“It’s not your fault,” Alex said automatically. “So don’t you dare go apologising for this.”

“I- I wasn’t.”

Alex gave her sister a pointed look.

Kara’s face fell. She shifted uncomfortably, drawing her knees up towards her chest. “Okay, maybe… so maybe I was. But- I don’t know what else to say, Alex! I am sorry. Sorry any of this happened. That we lost each other.”

Again.

“We always find our way back,” Alex said firmly, pressing the warmth of her mug against her chin retrospectively. Her lips curled. “That might as well be the Danvers’ sisters motto at this point, right?”

Kara snorted into her own mug. “It’s got a ring to it.”

“We could make t-shirts.”

“Okay, that’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“But you kinda love it, right?”

Kara’s nose crinkled when she grinned, one of those classic Kara smiles. So simple, so easy, as though she wasn’t holding the weight of the world on her shoulders at any given moment.

It didn’t last long, but when Kara looked back up at her, Alex thought that a little of the pain behind her eyes had begun to ease.

Then, Kara yawned.

Alex’s smile faded. “Okay, you really need to get some sleep.”

Kara bit her lip, glancing away. “I know. I just…” She blinked with a sudden revelation, turning back to Alex in the same motion. “Would you stay?” she asked impulsively, patting the sheets at her side. “Here, I mean. While I sleep? Like old times?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” Alex said, already scooting over towards the empty space. “Of course I will.”

---

The last time Alex had laid in Kara’s bed, she’d been alone.

When the wound had still been fresh, her heart was so heavy that Alex had needed to feel Kara there with her somehow. She’d used the spare key to get inside, curling up beneath her sister’s sheets, still smelling of Kara’s watermelon shampoo, and hugged her pillow close to her chest, burying her face into the soft cotton.

Now, Kara lay at her side, and yet Alex still had to fight to prove to herself that this was real. That Kara was home.

She hadn’t told anyone about what the Phantom had showed her just yet - not even Kelly. To think how terrified she’d been of not being the first face that Kara saw, that somehow her stubbornness might ruin everything, that to get Kara back, she’d have to sacrifice herself, because it was her job as the older sister. Even when she’d faced those fears, when she’d chosen to let herself go to keep Kara safe, it didn’t take from the horrible all-consuming vacuum that had surrounded her. The unforgiving, ice cold chasm of space that had crushed her body the moment she’d been pulled from the ship’s sheild.

But, when Kara had barrelled through that door, Alex had seen her light at the end of the tunnel. When Kara had wrapped her arms around her, nearly forgetting her own strength, squeezing the breath right out from Alex’s lungs, her fears had all but evaporated alongside it. Instead, she’d only hugged her sister tighter in response, whispering nonsensical reassurances into Kara’s ear as she’d crumpled beneath the weight of everything she’d seen, breathing heavily into Alex’s throat.

Now, Alex ran her fingers through her sister’s hair, tugging the elastic out so that she could knot the blonde strands into loose plaits. She’d taught Kara how to braid her hair in a similar fashion when they’d been kids, playing with her hair for hours in front of the mirror, going through every style she could think of in some of her mom’s old magazines. Alex had never been a big fan of dressing up, but Kara had been so excited to learn about Earth fashion and Alex had been seldom to disappoint.

It wasn’t long before Kara relaxed into the gesture, her back curving against Alex’s chest as she sank deep against her pillow, pressing her face into it with a soft exhale.

Alex didn’t know what kind of nightmares Kara had faced the last time she’d fallen asleep, but she vowed that she’d do everything in her power to give her sister the peace of mind she deserved.

When Kara finally began to doze and soft snores escaped her lips, Alex wrapped her arms around her front, burying her face between her sister’s shoulder blades.

She was warm in her arms, solid and real. Alex could feel every rise and fall in Kara’s chest, could hear the steady rhythm of her pulse beating against her forehead.

The girl of steel had always needed to appear unbreakable to everyone, but what people rarely thought about was how that so often extended even to Kara Danvers. After all, it would be Kara Danvers, not Supergirl, who would be turning up at CatCo in the next few days, pretending as though she’d been out getting the scoop of the century.

No one outside of her family knew what she’d been through, and so none of them would offer her the proper time she needed to heal.

And, as much as it hurt, Alex knew that by tomorrow, Kara would already be flying around National City again, reassuring the world that Supergirl was still there for them all.

But, in small moments like this, Kara could at least let her guard down. She didn’t need to be anyone’s saviour right then. She was Kara Danvers, Kara Zor El. And at the heart of it, she was still Alex’s little sister. No matter what happened, nothing would ever change that.

Maybe she couldn’t protect her sister from whatever tomorrow brought with it, but she could make damn sure that not a single nightmare touched her tonight.

That would have to be enough.

#supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl season 6 #danvers sisters #kara danvers #alex danvers #kara zor el #6x07 #my writing #this might turn into a whole fic for mini chapters surrounding a bunch of character interactions in the aftermath of 6x07 #mostly because i rEALLY want to explore every angle of that SO. BAD.#so. if i do get the time for it stay tuned i guess.

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hibiscusangel15 · 3 years

Text

Rumors

Day 22 Prompt: there’s been talk about us

Summary: Rumors chased after Ichigo and Rukia their entire lives. People liked to gossip about their appearances. About their statuses. It was always the trivial matters that rubbed others the wrong way.

And then came the rumors about the nature of their relationship. For Day 22 of @ichirukimonth 2021.

Rating: Gen/K

*Also crossposted to AO3 and FFN!

If you like my fic, please consider buying me a coffee!

We fear that which we cannot see.

“Hey, have you heard?”

“That Kurosaki kid—”

“Yes, that Kuchiki girl—”

“No way! A delinquent joining our class?”

“Of course that untalented recruit is a noble. It’s the Kuchiki influence. I thought so, too!”

Rumors chased after Ichigo and Rukia their entire lives. People liked to gossip about their appearances. About their statuses. It was always the trivial matters that rubbed others the wrong way.

And then came the rumors about the nature of their relationship. A bit surprising, to be sure, but not altogether unexpected, given how petty gossip hounds could be. Just another bored rumor passed along the mill that would eventually be forgotten and replaced with something new.

They both denied it as firmly as they could. It never satiated others’ nosy appetites for long.

All those rumors fell away when she was whisked back to Soul Society. They were the last thing on his mind when he and the others fought to rescue her. He’d forgotten about them completely until she and the other Shinigami showed up during the next semester, unannounced, and the rumors started up again.

It didn’t help that she was living with him now, either.

“What’s the deal with you and Rukia-chan anyway?” Isshin asked while helping his son with the dishes. The girls were having fun getting to know each other upstairs, so he figured he’d step in.

Ichigo threw him a peeved side-glance. “What do you mean? She already told you she has no money or relatives here to help her.”

“So you volunteered to take her in without a second thought, huh?”

“You expect me to let her fend for herself?” The defensive edge in his voice made Isshin pause.

He smiled as he took a dish from the rack to dry. “No, of course not. You’ve always been the type to stick your neck out for someone in need. Why do you think your mom and I named you Ichigo?”

Ichigo said nothing, just continued washing dishes. If one good thing could be said about his punk of a son, it was the fact that he never flaunted his inner strength.

“You’ve never really had many friends growing up. For the longest time, the only friend you had was Tatsuki-chan and then Chad. Everyone else was too scared to try and talk to you. So I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there this year and making a bunch of new friends, Ichigo.”

His son’s face softened.

“That being said, you never answered my question, my son.” Isshin’s eyes sparkled with a single-minded pursuit. “Could it be you don’t trust me enough to tell me the truth? Or is it that you're too shy?”

That all-too-familiar scowl returned to Ichigo’s face. “What the hell’re you talking about, Dad?”

“There you go, dodging the question again! I’m talking about Rukia-chan! Is she, y’know, your girlfriend?”

“My...girlfriend?” A dish slipped from Ichigo's grasp and shattered into pieces.

“Aw crap!” he swore, stooping to the floor. “Sorry, Dad!”

Before he could reach for the largest piece, Isshin gently pushed his son's hands away. “Let me handle this, Ichigo. I don’t want you hurting yourself. Go get the trash can.”

“Dad, it’s no trouble. I can get it.”

Isshin paused. “To be honest with you, son, my joints ain’t as spry as they used to be. I probably can’t get up right now even if I wanted to.”

“Oh, what? You’re such an old man,” Ichigo said as he pushed himself up.

At that moment, Isshin slipped a small pill into his mouth. Urahara’s gigai tech might have been impressive when he was first gifted the thing, but damn was it getting more and more unresponsive as he got older.

After Ichigo cleared the shards away, Isshin let his son finish washing the dishes. It was the easiest way to trap him there, at any rate.

“Anyway,” he began again, “what is Rukia-chan to you?”

His son hesitated, brown eyes darting around as if he could pull some bullshit excuse from the murky dishwater.

He covered it up with yet another scowl. “We’re just friends. Sorry to disappoint you and Yuzu.”

“Aw, c’mon, Ichigo! Your sister and I are just curious!”

“You guys are way too keen about my nonexistent love life. Why don’t you two get lives of your own?”

“You kids might not understand this since you’re so young, but when you become a parent, your life revolves around your kids! That means your life is my life, too!” Isshin clenched his fist. “So c’mon, Ichigo! Tell me everything! Don’t be shy!”

“I’m not being shy. Quit bugging me.”

“Oh?” Isshin’s eyes gleamed. “Only a truly shy man would be so cold! Come now, my son! Confess your deepest, darkest secrets to your father!”

As soon as he tried to embrace his son, all turned black as his face rammed right into Ichigo’s elbow.

* * *

The girls upstairs heard a loud crash and Ichigo’s infuriated cursing.

Karin frowned at the floor. “There they go again. God, it’s so exhausting living with them. Sorry, you’re just going to have to deal with them for the time being.”

Rukia slapped on an innocent smile. “Oh, I don’t mind! I think a lively household is kind of fun!”

Another crash thundered through the house as the two men continued brawling away. Karin sighed. “Fun, huh?”

“I just hope they remember to clean up after themselves! I’d hate to clean the kitchen again when I already did it last weekend!” Yuzu said.

Rukia had heard their muffled fighting before when she hid in Ichigo’s closet. To actually bear witness to the Kurosaki family’s antics was another matter entirely. Compared to the piercing silence of the Kuchiki household, this was a much more comforting change of pace.

“Now don’t take this the wrong way, Rukia-chan.” Yuzu fidgeted on her bed . “But…um….”

Karin tilted her head back with a loud sigh. “She wants to know if you and our stupid brother are dating.”

“Karin!” Yuzu shouted, scandalized.

“It’s what you wanted to ask her since she arrived, right?”

“Dating?” Rukia repeated. “No, we’re just friends!”

“Just friends, huh?” Karin muttered.

“Yes, of course.”

“So you say.”

“Karin!”

“I’m just saying it’d be way more interesting if all this was some elaborate ruse for Ichigo to introduce his girlfriend to the family is all.” She flopped back onto her bed, letting her legs swing freely over the edge.

“That certainly would be more interesting, I suppose,” Rukia conceded. “Unfortunately, that’s not true. No offense to your brother, but he’s too honest to think of doing something like that.”

The three paused when Ichigo’s booming sneeze echoed up to them from downstairs.

Karin smirked. “Friend, girlfriend. It’s all the same to me, I guess.” She pointed a finger at Rukia. “You and I might get along swimmingly once you drop that nice-girl act and be yourself, though.”

Rukia blinked. And here she thought her human girl schtick would work here, too.

The smile that crossed her lips was softer, more natural this time. “You and your brother have the same instincts, I see.”

“I’d say I’m better at reading people than he is. He’s a big dope.” Karin waved dismissively.

Yuzu’s warm smile grew. “Whether you’re just friends with Ichi-nii or something more, I’m still glad to have you in our home, Rukia-chan! It’s nice to have more girls in the house for once!”

Rukia dipped her head. “I’m grateful that you’re letting me stay here without questioning my motives. I hope I won’t be a burden to any of you.”

“If you can keep my brother and my dad in line, you’d be more of a help than a hindrance,” Karin said. “Anyway, Yuzu tends to snore and fuss in her sleep, so I hope you can deal with that, too.”

Yuzu flushed and threw a pillow at her sister’s bed. “Karin! I don’t snore!”

Siblings showed the oddest resemblances to one another from time to time. Karin's teasing grin was so much like her brother's that it made Rukia smile in return. Ichigo then barged into the room and plunked himself on the edge of her bed to hang out with them. They all talked about their day and mocked each other in that special way only siblings could. It was warm and exasperatedly caring.

All those silly rumors that once passed around Karakura High about her and Ichigo dating would definitely escalate if anyone saw her living with him. It didn’t matter to her either way.

For once, she'd found a place where she didn’t have to worry about being judged. Rukia could dare to be happy. She dared to relax and laugh along with them. The Kurosaki family treated her like she belonged, and that was enough.

* * *

“Wait, they live together? Are you sure?”

“Of course! Kojima-san went to their house the other day to bring Kurosaki all the homework he missed, and he told me that Kuchiki-san was the one who answered the door! And she took it from him on his behalf! Like she was his girlfriend or something!”

“No way someone as pretty as her would be shacking up with a guy like that, right?”

“I don’t know. You remember how she climbed in through the third-story window and kicked him in the face and smacked him around? If anything, I feel sorry for Kurosaki.”

Now those rumors couldn’t be helped either. Rukia needed somewhere to stay, and like a little pest, she wormed her way into Ichigo's home and his everyday life. And with his month-long Vizard training going on, he wasn’t exactly around to put a stop to them.

The rumors really started to get out of hand once Ichigo, his friends, and all those weird kids who joined in the middle of the semester disappeared at the same time. No one knew where they went, or if they were even alive.

Some theorized that they had all dropped out to form a street gang. Others proposed the idea that Kurosaki and Kuchiki-san had eloped and invited all their friends to the wedding. All of which were extremely ridiculous, but who was to prove them wrong? Certainly not the subjects of the rumors themselves.

Oddly enough, both Asano and Kojima were the first to dismiss any rumors they heard. They seemed less enthusiastic about it, like their friend’s love life was no longer a fun puzzle to work out. They hung a lot more around Arisawa, who was equally morose and exhausted with it all.

Of course, this only fueled the wild rumors further. Perhaps they were bummed out that they weren’t included in whatever escapades Kurosaki and his other friends got involved with.

Then Kurosaki returned. Without any of those weird friends of his. Without that odd Kuchiki girl by his side.

Kurosaki Ichigo became a recluse, even among those he once called friends.

Perhaps they’d broken up. Maybe she had to move away.

The mystique of their relationship died down pretty quickly after that.

It was not until May of their final year of high school did rumors about Kuchiki Rukia returning circulate around the school. Someone claimed to have seen her hanging around Karakura again. With how eagerly Kurosaki cancelled the rest of his sports team contracts to leave school earlier, it seemed more and more plausible.

Inoue Orihime’s own confirmation that the Kuchiki girl was indeed back only fueled the flames. Apparently, Kuchiki Rukia and all the new kids had to move far away all of a sudden. No, they weren’t all a weird family. No, she would not return to Karakura High.

As for the rumor covering Kuchiki Rukia and Kurosaki Ichigo’s relationship status, Inoue, Arisawa, and Kojima were all tight-lipped on the matter. Despite their best efforts, Asano Keigo was not all that great at keeping secrets, and it only took a bit of pressure for him to crack.

“No, they’re not dating! Can you believe that?” he’d screech at anyone who would listen. “I swear, I’ve tried so hard to hook them up, but nothing I do works! Tell me, what’s a guy gotta do to help his dumbass friend score, huh?”

* * *

Rukia was in the middle of writing up a report when Ichigo decided to show up for an impromptu visit. Admittedly, it was nice catching up with him, but it did wreck her entire work schedule for the day.

Well, perhaps wreck wasn’t the right word for it. She didn’t mind his company. She just normally finished up faster than this.

The odd look her brother threw her when she requested that they be left alone put her off. It did not help that she had flushed when Renji raised a tattooed eyebrow at her before he left, nor the fact that the servants hushed their giggles when Ichigo looked over his shoulder at them.

“Hey, is something going on around here?” he asked after catching the latest servant stifling a smile as she passed. “The servants have been whispering to each other all day.”

That’s because you decided to barge in so blatantly like you live here, you fool, she wanted to say.

Rukia shrugged affectedly. “People like to talk.”

About us, to be precise.

Ichigo scoffed. “People are always talking about me like I’m some kind of freak because of my hair. I’ve never cared all that much about gossip. It’s all bullshit anyway.”

She set her brush down on the inkstone. “I see. You too, huh?”

“Too?” he repeated, finally looking over at her.

“You heard Nii-sama explain why I was adopted into the Kuchiki clan, correct?” She took his silence as a yes. “The Kuchiki name is a prestigious one, but that notoriety does not come without its costs. The moment I was adopted, I was immediately placed in Squad Thirteen despite never having graduated from the Shinigami Academy. I was deemed a product of nepotism, and the other squad members hated me for it.”

Rukia shut her eyes. The memory of Kaien’s warmth flickered in the back of her mind. That would be a story for another day.

“It may seem ridiculous to you, how such a thing could hurt me.” Her smile did not reach her eyes.

He shook his head. “It’s not ridiculous, Rukia. What’s ridiculous is all the stuff people assumed about you. They don’t even know you.”

“No,” she said. “But even worthless rumors can start to take their toll once enough of them build up.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m gonna change that.”

Her smile fell. “How so?”

“We’re friends,” Ichigo said without any hesitation whatsoever. “So anyone who talks shit about you gets the business end of my sword.”

“A little extreme, don’t you think?”

Ichigo snorted but said nothing else.

To alleviate the tension brewing around him, she teased, “And what rumors about yourself have you heard lately? I’ve heard quite a lot. I’ve even been asked to confirm a few, on occasion.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Rukia turned the various rumors over in her mind, struggling to find the best way to spin it. A joke perhaps? Could he laugh off something like this?

No, Ichigo would probably get embarrassed and storm off to find the cretin who started these unsavory rumors in the first place. She would assume such talk was unbefitting of those who served in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, but apparently she was mistaken.

“Nothing much. Petty gossip.” She continued writing her report as if such matters didn’t concern her at all. “About you and I, mostly. What we are to each other.”

Ichigo scowled. “Not this again.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“It’s like people don’t have anything else to do with their lives. Stop trying to live vicariously through us already.”

Rukia paused. “Live vicariously?”

“Yeah, it’s like when people try to experience stuff through—”

“No, I know what it means. But what did you mean by that?”

The moment he met her eyes, she understood. There was a frantic, helpless gleam to them, but even so, he did not dare look away.

It was not a challenge, but more a question. It was a plea. His confession.

“Oh. I see.”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to…. I mean, it’s not…. This wasn’t the way that I wanted to….”

Ichigo put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. When he finally sat up straight again, he looked her right in the eye. “Rukia, do you want to go out with me?”

“Oh?” She leaned her head in a hand, the corner of her mouth tugging up. “Are you sure you want to prove those rumormongers right?”

He scowled. “This isn't about them! I told you, I don’t give a shit about what other people think. It wasn’t the rumors that made me like you.”

“What a bold thing to admit.” She covered her mouth in mock surprise.

“Ugh, shut up! It’s hard enough to say as it is.”

Rukia began to laugh. “You’re so strange, Ichigo. I like that about you, though.”

He tried and failed to hide how red his face had become. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.” Her smile became more genuine then as she reached her hand out to his. “I am happy you asked. Although, I hope you know that it is uncouth of you to drop in on a woman unannounced. According to what I read about courting in the World of the Living, it is also customary to have a chaperone along with us on our dates.”

“Yeah, that’s been outdated for centuries now. What the hell kind of books are you even reading?” he scoffed.

“How rude! And here I was, excited to ask Nii-sama to accompany us for our first date!”

“What? Don’t bring Byakuya into this!”

Their silly bickering echoed all throughout the courtyard. Even still, they did not let go of the other's hand.

* * *

"Hey, have you heard?"

"That Substitute Shinigami and Lieutenant Kuchiki are dating?"

"Why is this news? Weren't they already a couple?"

"Ah, I see! So I was right all along."

Years and years of speculation, only to have the confession be far more mundane than they hoped.

The funny thing about rumors was, once they were confirmed, they lost their appeal extremely quickly.

Another rumor soon came to take its place.

"Kurosaki Ichigo is a noble? No way!"

"Sure, he looks a lot like Lieutenant Shiba, but isn't he just a human?"

"You sure he didn't just marry into the Kuchiki family?"

And so it goes. And so the rumors circled back once again.

If you can say that your heart doesn't change

Then that is strength.

No, nothing can change my world.

The only time a petty rumor is actually one hundred percent true lol. But I mean, it's not hard to disprove with the way they're always looking at each other.

I suppose this fic can kind of fit in the same AU as Home and Clearing Away the Rain. Maybe consider it a prequel of sorts, if you like!

Thanks for reading! Until next time!

#IRMonth2021 #Day 22: there's been talk about us #Ichiruki #OTP: Black Sun and White Moon #Kurosaki Ichigo #Kuchiki Rukia #Kurosaki Isshin #Kurosaki Karin #Kurosaki Yuzu #Bleach #my fanfiction

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eideticmemory · 4 years

Text

FINE LINE | SPENCER REID

Two decades and two children later, you and your ex-husband learn to navigate the world of co-parenting.

Word Count: 2,604.

Warning: Daddy issues, mommy issues, angst, drama, romance. Love to see it.

You could feel it. The light illuminating your face, touching it with a gentle heat that made your eyes flutter open. Your head felt heavy, as if your neck was attempting to support the weight of a canon ball. You rested your skull on the back of the chair you sat in, eyelids dropping just above your irises. Just in the distance, you could make out a cinema screen. Large, blurry, projecting a bright white screen.

Her image appeared in the center of the square, perfect, in place, still. But you could make out the grin on her face. Watching her dark red lips release the words, “Hello, sleepyhead.”

You could just barely muster up the strength to part your lips, pushing out a small gust of air. It was hot and made your mouth feel like it was on fire.

“H—“

“Oh,” she interrupted you, gently, quietly. You jumped at the feeling of her touching your arm, her palm tight around your forearm. She was cold, freezing, but you could still feel warmth radiating off of her. “I’m afraid you can’t stay too long this time. It’s time to wake up.”

“Hm?” You whined. “Mm?”

“Wake up,” she repeated. “C’mon, wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake u—“

“Up!”

You jolted, violently, harshly, your eyes springing open to reveal the usual sight of your bedsheets.

“Mom, wake up,” an exasperated voice sounded from beside you, the words catching your attention instantly. Tightly.

“Huh?” You mumbled, flickering your eyes up to the figure at your side, sitting on your bed, looking at you with a concerned stare. “Hm?”

“Are you alright?” Eden asked. Sunlight shone on her face, giving her the appearance of an angel. Sent to wake you, pull you back into reality. “What were you dreaming about?”

You let out a long sigh, as if you could even begin to explain your subconscious mind to your 15-year-old daughter. “Oh, y’know,” you whispered, sitting yourself upright and resting back against the headboard. “Just...lions, and tigers, and bears.”

“Oh my,” Eden responded, her big brown eyes concentrated on your face.

You chuckled underneath your breath, and let out a quick huff. “Oh, shoot, is your brother up?”

“He’s up, he’s dressed, he’s fed, and reading the Illiad.”

“Oh?” You stepped out of bed, pulling the duvet over your legs to reveal your pajama pants. “What happened to War and Peace?”

“He finished that yesterday.”

“He gets quicker every hour,” you shook your head.

“It’s a genius thing,” Eden shrugged. She fiddled with the ends of her hair, watching the strands brush over her fingers as she chewed her lip. “Hey, mom?”

“Yeah, kid?” You replied, standing in the bathroom mirror as you began to get ready for the day.

“You—you know dad, right?”

You stopped in your tracks, any and all movements coming to a halt. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you spun on your heels, slowly, until you came face to face with Eden. “Uh . . . your dad?”

“Yes.”

“Tall? Long, brown hair? Hazel eyes? Has a birthmark on his right thigh?” You listed, toothbrush hanging from your mouth.

“Ew,” Eden cringed. “Yes.”

“Never met him in my life,” you shrugged.

“Mom.”

“Kid,” you tilted your head, face softening as you realized how nervous she was. “What’s up?”

She sighed, ducking her head down to avoid eye contact. “I invited him to my sweet 16.”

“Oh.” It came out like reflex. You said the word before you could fully process the information.

“Are you mad?”

“No—huh? E,” you rushed to sit beside her. “You don’t have to hide inviting your father from me—you—you don’t have to invite your father at all. He’s always welcome to visit on your birthday. And of course he should be at your sweet sixteen.”

“Really?” Eden questioned, eyebrows raised. “So, it will be a nice day? A nice party? Everyone will be nice to everyone?”

“Yes, yes, girl scouts honor.”

“Good,” she nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“Oh, babe,” you murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It—“

“Mom!” A shrill voice struck both of you with fear, coming out of nowhere.

“Yes, my love?” You directed at Emerson, watching him fidget with his hands in the doorway. His shaggy brown hair covered his face slightly and his button up was tucked into his khaki shorts.

“My chess tournament starts soon, are you coming?” He asked.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world, kiddo. You and your sister go downstairs while I get dressed.”

They’re obedient, your kids. Kind, driven, smart — with an average IQ of 187.5. The could take over the world if they really, really wanted to. But they don’t. They just want to go out for pizza, and get their twenty dollar allowance every week, hang out with their friends, focus on school, and . . . to see their father. You solemnly set your toothbrush down in the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror — tired, worn out, nauseous from another . . . dream? Nightmare? You’re not sure, and frankly, you don’t want to think about it.

So, you pushed on. You got dressed, fixed your hair, used light makeup to cover your exhaustion. Stepping out into the bedroom, your eyes quickly fell on your cellphone — the device laying on your bedside dresser. Hands on your hips, you shook your head, telling yourself not to do it. It’s not necessary, it’s overbearing to even think about.

Then, you remembered who you were dealing with here. And you rushed over to picked up the phone.

“[y/n] Reid,” he beamed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I heard you talked to E,” you whispered, pacing back and forth in your bedroom.

“I did,” Spencer confirmed. “She called me the other day.”

“To invite you to her birthday party.”

“Yes.”

“And are you planning on coming?” You asked.

“Of course I’m planning on coming. It’s my daughter’s sixteenth birthday.”

“Right, right, it’s not like you missed her fifteenth, or thirteenth, or her twelfth, or her actual birth, or anything.”

“[y/n]—”

“Listen, I didn’t call to argue, or even talk,” you sighed. “I just called to tell you that this party isn’t an option. You will be here Saturday at 10 o’clock sharp, you will help decorate, you will spend time with your children, and you will make this the best damn day Eden Reid has ever had. Understood?”

“I have to help decorate?”

“Spencer—“

“I will be there. 10 o’clock. I will help decorate, I will spend time with my children, I will make this the best damn day Eden Reid has ever had. I understand.”

You released a quiet huff, like your lungs couldn’t stand to hold the breath any longer. “Thank you.”

Spencer let out a soft, sad laugh, “Haven’t done that in a while.”

Chess gives you anxiety. You understand it. You can conceptualize it, and even play it. Well. But the bubbling in your stomach every time you witnessed a game — particually one where your eight year old son is playing — comes back to haunt you again and again. You don’t worry about Emerson, he can take care of himself. He’s like his father in that way, the game is in his blood. But the tension, the speed, the risk. It made your breath lodge in your chest, and every so often, you had to sigh to regain control.

The only thing that could pull you from that stress is Em. Emerson Derek Reid, the little half smile on his face when he wins a match. It makes the three hour tournaments worth it. Watching your boy play against college level students who have been playing all their lives. Yeah, so has he.

He jumps off stage in an excited state, rushing towards you with open arms. “You’re a tiger, kid!” You exclaim. “You killed it.”

“Thank you, thank you,” he shrugged. “It’s really my opponents’ fault, they wouldn’t know a queen from a rook if it was looking them in the face.”

“Ooh, cat fight.” E remarked, causing Em and you to laugh.

“Hey,” you said. “Since you’re both already out of school today . . . wanna play hookie?”

“Mom? I am shocked!” E gasped, trying hard to contain a laugh.

“Oh, c’mon, we never get to hang out anymore since you guys started these college classes and my business went up. I’m off work, you’re already out of class, let’s just do it. Let’s go shop and eat and hang out and I will write you guys an excuse for tomorrow, okay?” You rambled, putting your hands to their shoulders.

Em and E looked at each other, and after a minute, they looked up at you and nodded.

Your very, very favorite people on the whole planet.

You took them to the mall. Bought Em some new clothes, but he wasn’t really interested. You and E did most of the picking. He sat in the corner of the store reading and only participated to try on outfits you guys had picked out. You both squealed and told him how cute he looked, and he scrunched up his nose. Just like . . .

And then you bought E some shoes, some vans. There was a huge sell, and she fell in love with everything she tried on. And you fell in love with seeing her happy so you ran up a bill.

“Okay, which one of us is dying?” E said as you sat at lunch. Em bursted out laughing.

“Wha—neither of you! I just wanted to spoil you guys. You kill yourselves all week with school, even though it’s summer. And I never see you, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” Em hummed, an unconvinced look in his face as he eyed his sister. “I bet someone died.”

“Em!” You exclaimed, E’s laughter blending in. “God, you guys are morbid.”

“Our parents both worked in the FBI, we’re basically trained,” E giggled.

Just then, you got a call. Work. Fuck. You stood from the table and stepped outside, excusing yourself first.

“[y/n].”

“Can we close the Pickett case tonight?”

“Raven . . .”

“I don’t want that boy in that house for one more second. [y/n], I will send you more of my notes, but . . . read them, read them. You will understand. Please.”

You sighed, “I’ll be there at ten. If you are not there at ten . . . I’ll wait for you. Let’s do it.”

“Thank you! Thank you, thanks! Bye. Sorry. Bye.”

You took in a deep breath and shook your head.

Nothing was going to spoil your lunch. Not today.

The car ride home, the three of you vibed to music. Your kids knew every word to Fleetwood Mac’s discography and it was your greatest accomplishment. They even developed their own dance routine to Dreams when they were younger.

Your very, very favorite people on the whole planet.

You pulled up to your house, and as you approached the driveway, you saw a familiar car parked out front. Your stomach flipped, caved in, skipped, hopped, and jumped.

Words can’t even described what it did when you saw him.

Sitting on the porch swing.

“Dad?” Em exclaimed loudly in excitement. You parked in the driveway, eyeing Spencer the whole time.

“Dad?” E said quietly, confusion in her voice. “Did you—“ She directed at you, interrupted by her brother hopping out of the car.

Em ran up to Spencer, and his father scooped him up in a quick motion, spinning him around and kissing his head.

You let out a quick huff, turned to E and smiled, “C’mon, go say hi.”

You followed E out of the car, and watched as she tip toed towards Spencer. She suddenly skipped and jumped into Spencer’s arms.

“Hey, dad,” she said.

“Hey, kid!” He replied, before putting her on her feet. “Your hair is getting so long!”

“Yeah,” she twirled her hair and laughed. “What are you doing here!”

“I wanted to see you guys . . .” He turned to you. “And your mom, who’s quiet as a mouse.”

“Hello,” you shrugged, giving him a kind smile.

“Are you staying for today, dad?” Em asked, tucked under Spencer’s arm.

“I was actually hoping to stay until Sunday, if that’s okay with your mom, of course.”

Your very, very least favorite person on the whole planet.

“Please, mom? He can be here for my birthday!” E pipped.

Em. E. Em. E. Those big, pouty eyes of theirs staring you down. “You can stay in the guest room,” you told Spencer.

“Is that close to your bedroom?” Spencer smirked.

“Heh,” you huffed. “Don’t push it. You can stay upstairs.”

“Yes! C’mon, dad! I made a new model that I wanna show you!”

Later that night, you made the kids pasta. It was one of your finer cuisines, taught to you by an old friend, and they asked for it all the night, especially when they needed to study.

Spencer wandered into the kitchen after getting settled upstairs. “Woah! I thought we could go out for dinner, huh? My treat?”

“We would, dad,” Eden said. “But we both have tests tomorrow. Calculus and Physics. Maybe tomorrow.”

You set their plates down and looked up at Spencer. You walked over to him, eyeing him knowingly as you led him out of the kitchen.

“They’re nerds,” Spencer laughed.

“They’ve also both got an eidetic memory. It’s gonna take them all of three minutes to study, then they’ll be all over you again,” you told him, walking out onto the back patio.

Following you, Spencer closed the door behind him, isolating you two on the porch.

You sat down, plopped down, and looked up at him, “Why are you here?”

“Subtle.”

“Spencer.”

“I mean it, you should be a federal agent.”

“Spencer.”

He sighed heavily, “I have some things I want to . . . handle.”

“Here?” You asked.

“Yes,” he hesitated. “I haven’t been enough a part of the kids’ lives—“

You rolled yours eyes. Yeah, you knew that.

“I want to fix that, to have a real relationship with them.” He continued.

“You’ve always been able to,” you shrugged. “You get distracted.”

“Work,” he muttered.

“Always is.”

“And . . .” he whispered, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and the ground.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “And?”

“I — I want to fix my relationship with you.”

Huh.

“I want us to go to therapy.”

Huh.

“Wha—“ You stuttered, rising from your seat. “Spencer, what?”

“Not couples therapy. Nothing . . . romantic,” his voice cracked. “But we can’t keep acting so . . . poorly around the kids. They’re smart, they notice things. They always have.”

“Spencer, how are we gonna go to therapy? You’d need to dig up Freud himself and have him work on us full time.”

“I just think we need to talk,” he murmured. He stepped closer to you, breathing deeply as he towered over you. “Will you please just think about it?”

You stared him in the eye, let out a heavy exhale.

Spencer.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reidxreader #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #mine #fl

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razrbladekiss · 3 years

Text

Tyrants | Chapter Seven - Fix You

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

WARNINGS: Gun talk, mentions of murder, The usual SOA shit.

An almost unsettling fog blanketed Charming tonight, amplifying the sinister aura that’d been drifting through the town since Stahl had made her mark.

Since June Stahl had made it her mission—her whole purpose—to destroy the Sons Of Anarchy, and anybody that laid in her path.

She was doing a damn good job of that, too.

Isla wasn’t sure what her hasty arrival would mean for the club, but she knew that it wasn’t going to end pretty. She was aware that the bitter agent was just as stiff-necked as Clay, and wasn’t going down without a fucking fight.

Which, a fight, the Sons could do. It was whether they’d all make it out alive that Isla couldn’t predict.

She wouldn’t want to put her money on it either, actually.

“Any word on Bobby?”

“No.” Gemma’s sigh was sad, exhausted. “Rosen swung by just after you left with the she-devil. Said there’s a witness in a safe house willing to testify against Bobby and Ope in court. And if he does stick to his word, they’re going down for murder.”

Choosing to ignore her comment about Tara, Isla continued to pace the room. She held her cell tightly between her pink fingertips, hoping it’d light up and vibrate with a call from Jax, or Tig, or even Happy.

“Shit.” She hissed, mindful of the fact that there was a sleeping baby in Wendy’s arms and any offensive sounds would rouse him in an instant. “Did Clay tell you what their next move was?”

“Yeah. But I don’t think you’re gonna like it, sweetheart.”

She didn’t have to be privy to the plan to know that their next move involved one witness, three men, and a handful of shrapnel bullets.

“Jax know about this?” Almost concerned, Wendy asked. Isla’s ears perked up at that, too, because she wanted to know.

The VP was brutal, he was domineering and harsh when he had to be, but he wanted minimal blood shed. He didn’t host that same massacre mentality as Tig or Clay, and he definitely didn’t desire the sick thrill of gunning down a witness being protected by the fucking ATF.

“I’m assuming that he doesn’t.” The blonde uttered for Gemma after noticing that she was taking a painfully long time to respond. “Clay sent Happy, Tig, and who else? Juice?”

“Not Juice.”

“Did Clay go?” A little bit condescending, like she already knew the answer, Wendy asked. She rocked Abel back and forth as she did so, penetratively glaring at her ex-mother-in-law.

Isla swallowed thickly, stuffing her cell into the back pocket of her jeans when she realized what Gemma was trying to say.

Clay never did his own dirty work—it was always the Sgt. At Arms and whoever else was willing to get the blood on their hands. And her father, the forward-thinking, strong-willed Scotsman, never shied away from a task of this nature.

“It’s okay.” She spoke aloud, elucidating her innermost thoughts. “It’s fine. They’ve got Hap—he’s never been caught before—he knows what he’s doing.”

“And Tig, too. Y’know what he’s like.”

“Yeah.” Reflectively, she spoke. “At least they’d go through with it if my dad couldn’t.”

“You saying that your old man is weak?”

“No.” Isla spat at Wendy, glaring at her. “I’m saying that he has a conscience. Hap and Tig are a little bit hasty with the trigger and don’t tend to think before they execute somebody.”

In agreement, Gemma nodded.

“But it’s gotta be done.” She concluded, sitting on the arm of the couch. “The witness has gotta be dealt with—even if Jax doesn’t know anything about this.”

She felt her heart constrict at the thought of nobody telling the Vice President about their plans to get rid of that man.

The man that had the power to take down Opie and Bobby, and leave a club without their brothers.

Two families without their fathers.

And though it was inherently wrong to commit murder, Isla had been brought up knowing that the Sons got rid of their problems by planting bullets in the skulls of their enemies.

It was bad and immoral, and she couldn’t think of a way to excuse it to anybody on the outside. But to SAMCRO, it was habitual. It was what they did because it worked. Every single time.

“Wait a second.”

“What’s the matter, baby?”

Isla pulled a hand through her hair. “How is Clay so sure that they’re not gonna get caught? Y’know, ‘cuz this witness is being protected by the ATF—“

She was cut short by a delicate, albeit firmer than usual, knock at the door. Isla piqued a brow when Gemma got up to answer.

“They’ve got it covered.” Was all she managed to muster out before she went to see who’d decided to turn up at that hour.

Isla’s brain was doing cartwheels. She was nervous, she was pissed, but, most of all, she was upset that Chibs hadn’t told her where he was going tonight.

She snapped herself out of it, though. When Gemma scoffed as she opened the door and trailed back to her spot on the adjacent couch, Isla’s interests had been roused.

“It’s kinda late for a house call.” Her eyes rolled.

Tara trailed in behind her, feeling uneasy at the mere sight of the SAMCRO Queen and Jax’s ex-wife—but Isla being the only friendly face eased her a little bit.

“I was on my way home from work. Just thought I’d stop by and check in.”

“That’s sweet.” Isla smiled at the brunette, offering her the space next to Wendy. “Here.”

“It’s okay, I’ll stand—“

“No, I insist.” She protested softly, getting up. “It’s been a long day for you, sweetie. I’ll sit by mama bear over there.”

Gemma snorted, trying to figure out just what had happened between the pair for Isla to suddenly be so kind and considerate toward the woman she loathed for the best part of a decade.

But she was drawing a blank, because she realized how stupid that would’ve been to wonder—she was just like that. Nothing had to happen for her to be that way.

Isla was the kind of woman that Gemma wanted to be, while simultaneously being her exact double. She was a cleaner, kinder, brighter version of the matriarch, though she hosted that flicker of something that’d tie her to the battle axe that raised her.

And maybe calling the woman a “battle axe” was a little bit harsh, but it was true—on almost every single count.

Gemma was strong-willed, stubborn, martinent, and she took no shit from anybody. Isla wasn’t like that. She wasn’t a doormat, and she didn’t let people walk all over her, but she never went out of her way to demand respect.

Even though she’d been brought up to know she was better than the other women that lived among the Sons Of Anarchy.

“Is he here?”

“Does it look like he’s here?” Gemma’s lips twitched.

“No, I just…I guess I miss him, you know?”

Wendy nodded, tending to a fidgeting Abel. “Yeah, I do.”

Isla looked between the pair—sadly. She watched two of the most important people in Jax’s life sit side-by-side, meditative and wondering about the positions they had both been thrust into.

He had lived two completely different lives with each woman, and she was grateful to say that she had been present in both.

But to see Jax struggle—to see his heart break twice—was too much for Isla to think about, really.

She had watched Tara walk away, right out of his life without a second glance or even a second thought. And it was painful to discern. Painful to know that her best friend had lost the love of his life because she felt that she was too good to stick around for him.

Isla knew that wasn’t the entire truth, and that Tara was just doing a good thing for herself. But, at the time, she was young and stupid and extremely closed-minded when it came to the people that wronged the ones she loved, and all she wanted to do was hate that woman.

She’d grown up a lot since then, though. Isla was a different person entirely—a better version of herself—and she understood each reason behind every last thing Tara did when she did it.

Even if Jax’s mother couldn’t get to grips with it—couldn’t think about trusting her—Isla could.

It was a little bit difficult now, however. To see Tara and Wendy in the same room—trying to coexist peacefully in Jax’s life—was hard.

The lull was boisterous. The sheepish silence was deafening, and the thwacking of Isla’s heart against her chest was vociferous enough to be heard by Gemma across the way.

It was a position she didn’t want to be thrust into, but she wasn’t willing to get up and leave had anything been said.

She sat beside the older woman, watching her watch them like a fucking hawk, until her phone vibrated in her back pocket.

Isla shifted, pulling the cell from the denim and flipping it open.

Janet: Can u make it in for 9 tomorrow morning?

Her eyebrows pinched together, looking up a little confused. Isla swore that she sent Janet a text message that told her she wouldn’t be able to work in the morning.

She couldn’t miss Donna’s funeral. She didn’t want to, either.

“Who is it?” Gemma spoke inquisitively, peeling her eyes away from the conversion between Wendy and Tara.

“My boss.”

“Janet?” She nodded. “What’d that bitch want?”

“For me to work tomorrow morning—”

Gemma turned to her, grimacing. “But it’s the funeral. You told her that, right?”

Once again, Isla bobbed her head while fiddling with the buttons on her cellphone.

“She’s not gonna let me take another day off.” Her throat hitched at the realization. “I’m just gonna have to go with you, ignore her calls, and tell her that I didn’t see the text she sent to me tonight.”

Lying to and ignoring the woman that paid her at the end of every month, the woman that had helped her financially for the last five years, wasn’t what Isla wanted to do today.

But it was the only way she could pay her respects to Donna, she thought.

“You’re not gonna go in, right?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m just gonna call her after the funeral and apologize—“

“Don’t apologize.” Gemma chastised, knitting her eyebrows together. “If she can’t understand that you’ve got a funeral in the morning that you can’t miss, then she can go to hell—“

“Alright, Gem.” Her chuckle was hearty as she put her hand against her purse, pulling it to sit against her shoulder.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m gonna head home.” She rose to her feet smiling over at Tara and Wendy. “It’s getting late and we’ve gotta be out early tomorrow.”

“Alright, baby.” The older woman stood with her, pushing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Call me when you get there?”

Isla smiled, pecking her cheek. “Of course.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” She directed toward Tara—not particularly giving a damn if Wendy would be there or not.

The doctor simply smiled and nodded, giving her the answer that she not only wanted, but needed. She needed her there by her side in the morning. Isla feared she wouldn’t be able to get through it without her, actually.

But she was dreading the day. To see those men hold themselves together—to see Opie strive not to crumble—was something that she didn’t want to have to witness tomorrow.

So many funerals had she attended, so many friends and family members had been seized from her reach throughout the course of her life, but she hadn’t seen anything like this before.

She hadn’t ever seen a friend lose his one true love, the woman that brought him unintelligible happiness and two beautiful children to cherish with his entire being.

She hadn’t seen Opie suffer so much before. The man that was strong and willing and would hastily blow shit up with little to no regard for consequences, was disintegrating before her very eyes.

And Isla didn’t fucking know how to help him cope with that. She didn’t even know if she could help him to cope with that.

Her anxiety was still present on the drive home, too.

Even after getting into bed and recounting the events of the afternoon, Isla was still nervous as to what’d happen next. Because Clay’s reaction to Bobby getting arrested didn’t inspire much confidence, either.

And the way that Piney had disappeared earlier to seek vengeance, to hold a fucking pistol to the head of Laroy Wayne—the man that allegedly played a role in the murder of Donna Winston—was also prickling away at her thoughts.

Something was going to go wrong, wasn’t it?

No matter how well thought out their plans might’ve been, or how seamlessly they carried out the crime, something always went wrong. Somebody was always caught out, or hurt, or just felt bad about what they were doing.

Isla could’ve written that shit, now. After so many failed hits, failed attempts, and unfortunate events, Isla was almost a pro at predicting what the future would entail.

Almost as if she’d manifested it by merely thinking, her attention was piqued by the hastening roar of a motorcycle engine—clearly pulling up to her place.

It was wonderful to know that Gemma hadn’t decided to follow her home tonight, but the rough din could’ve led to any of the others.

She hoped it wasn’t Jax, and she really hoped it wasn’t her father or Happy.

As she slid out of bed, Isla reached for the pink robe with the daisies on it that rested against the back of her bedroom door, and shrugged it on over her silky pajamas.

It was great that she lived in such a small house, really, because she was able to get from point A (her bedroom) to point B (the front door), in a matter of seconds, or before the person outside got angry that she was taking too long.

He hadn’t knocked the door yet, but she knew that he was about to.

Isla rummaged around the little bowl beside the entrance for her front door key, suddenly realizing that she had way too many of them—her house key, a key to her mailbox, keys to T M, keys to her dad’s place, her car keys, she had somebody’s bike keys, too.

The little chain that hosted a few pieces of metal, a cherry keychain, a tiny motorcycle, and an old beaded bracelet that Chibs had given to her for safe travels, was hastily being shoved into the lock and twisted counterclockwise.

“How’d you know I was out here?” Tig asked from about a foot away, barely visible to her as the streetlights were out, for some reason.

“Literally couldn’t hear myself think over the sound of your bike.” She chuckled, leaning against her door frame. She squinted, trying to focus on him—but it was no use. “What’re you going here, Tigger?”

He stepped further toward her—reluctantly. The dim glow of her living room light suddenly illuminated the space a hell of a lot more, hitting Tig square in the face as Isla shifted a little to her left.

Her heart clenched.

“I need you to play nurse again.” Bashfully, he smiled.

There were tears of pain trickling from those crystalline hues, his left hand firmly planted against his ribcage, and she suddenly heeded the dried blood underneath his nose, his lips, and a bruise forming against his cheek.

“Tig…” Her words broke away from her tongue, the lump in her throat constricting her airways because seeing him so beaten and exhausted hurt her.

“You should see the other guy.” He tried to joke, but the humor was lost on her.

Lost on him, too. He didn’t think it was funny, but he hated the way she was looking at him.

“Sorry to bring this here.” Tig sniffed harshly, squinting as the pain suddenly started to hit him. “I’ll—uh—I’ll go—“

“No. No, you’re not going anywhere.” She stated firmly, stepping out of the house and down the path. “You’re gonna come in, I’m gonna fix you up, and you’re gonna tell me what happened.”

“Isla…”

“Please, Alex.”

Tig couldn’t help that little smile pulling at the corners of his lips, always liking that she’d say his name so softly. Anybody else referring to him that way would’ve gotten a swift kick in the fucking gut—but she was different.

Isla was a comfort. Always had been.

He stepped inside, following closely behind her as she made a beeline for her bathroom. But she instructed him to sit at the dinner table, stifling a laugh at the way she tried her hand at being the authoritative figure.

She’d even told him to help himself to the Jack Daniels she kept for when Chibs called ‘round.

“You’re so lucky dad taught me how to treat wounds.” She called from the end of the hallway, shuffling across the carpet in a pair of sparkly pink slippers.

“I know.” He agreed, thankful. “He did a good job, too.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.” Isla smiled, putting her first aid necessities atop the table. “But don’t tell him that I’m about to ask you to take your shirt off, or else he’ll beat the shit outta you.”

“What?”

“Take your shirt off.” She smiled again, gesturing to the part of his body that his hand had subconsciously taken purchase against. “I’m not tryna make you do a strip tease for me, Tig, I just need to see if you’ve got any cuts there or if it’s just a bruise.”

“I think it’s just a bruise,” he mused, shrugging off his black zip-up, and starting to unbutton the cotton shirt adorning his torso.

Isla bit her bottom lip as she fiddled with the tube of antiseptic cream, wondering how she would broach the topic. She wanted to know what had happened—because whatever it was clearly did not go to plan—but she didn’t want him to think that she was trying to force it out of him.

“See.” Tig ran his hand over the red marks, lines, and the small flecks of yellow surrounding his rib cage and lower abdomen. “All good.”

“Not all good.” She halted him as he tried to reason with her, furrowing her eyebrows. “Where did they come from?”

Nobody could lie to her. Ever.

Nobody had to lie to her, really, because Isla Telford tried not to ask any questions—but she was worried tonight.

Worried about Tig and the various messes that he’d found himself entwined in over the last day and a half. Worried that he was in trouble, that he was tormenting himself over something out of his reach—his control.

She was just worried about him, really.

His sigh was throaty, hurt palpable. “You want the whole truth, or the dumbed-down version?”

“The whole truth.” She retorted instantaneously, letting him button his shirt before she started to clean the blood from his face. “And don’t try to lie to me, because I know you too well for that.”

Like last night, he felt pathetic. He felt that twinge of vulnerability poke through again, and he hated it.

He hated the thought of Isla seeing him this way—in pain, downtrodden and exhausted—and he hated the thought of her knowing that whatever it was he did today had gotten to him so much.

“The witness that was gonna testify against Ope. Me, Hap, and your old man went to go ‘n handle him,” Tig sucked in a deep breath when the alcohol pad nicked at a cut he was unaware of.

“I know about that part.” Easily, she followed on. “So what happened? Was he too fast?”

His head shook, an airy chuckle escaping his lips. “He was a she. A teenage girl—“

“Jesus, Tig.” Almost disgusted, she took a step back. “You didn’t…”

“No.” He reassured her, letting her soften a little bit before coming out with; “but me and Hap were gonna.”

“You’re kidding?”

If there was one thing that Isla knew SAMCRO did not do, it was kill women. Ever.

There had been accidents that saw innocent girls caught in the crossfire—last night, for one—which was inevitable. But the club never went out of their way to end their lives.

“Wish I was, Isla.” Tig’s eyes watered, but she didn’t do anything. She didn’t say anything, either. “I dunno what's happening to me.”

I don’t either, Tiggy.

“I was gonna put that bullet in her and if it wasn’t for Jax—“

“Jax was there?”

“He stormed in after someone must’ve told him we were gonna off the “man” that saw Ope and Bobby kill Hefner at that complex.”

“Oh.” She nodded along, cleaning out the wound she had literally only just fixed yesterday.

But the cogs inside of her brain were slowly turning.

“Oh…” Isla quickly looked down at him, piecing the puzzle together. “Tell me he didn’t do this to you.”

He winced as the whiskey left a searing trail down the back of his throat, barely making eye contact with her before she snapped.

“Tig! Talk to me—“

“Alright, fine! Yeah, he did this!” He raised his voice at her, watching anger flit across her delicate features. “He held his glock to my goddamn head and I was ready for him to pull the trigger, but he didn’t.”

She blinked at him, uneasy at the thought of what Jax had started to morph into. Who he had started to morph into.

“We ended up fighting and I got a few hits in, but the asshole punched me in the fucking face and threw me onto a table—that’s probably where the bruises came from.”

“And this was because of the girl, right?”

“Right.”

“But Happy and my dad were there, too…Why did Jax beat the shit outta you?”

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t,” she grabbed the tumbler from his right hand so he couldn’t silence himself with anymore alcohol, and put it atop the table.

“Because he stormed in when I had the gun to that kid’s head, and I was gonna pull the fucking trigger.” He recounted, sobbing as he spoke.

She was seething. Oh, Isla was fucking furious—but she didn’t want to spook him after this, because he was unpredictable and really unstable. She didn’t want him to do anything stupid.

“It’s alright.” The damp pad was discarded, tossed to the middle of the table when she grabbed gently at his chin and forced him to look upward. “You didn’t kill her, I’m assuming Jax handled it some other way, and you’re outta the blue, okay? It’s fine.”

Maybe Isla was so quick to forgive him for something that he didn’t do because she was also toiling with the idea of coming to terms with an act just as—if not more—treacherous than Tig’s.

She seeked that reassurance, that “it’s okay” talk from somebody after what she had done with her best friend, but she knew that the only person that’d give it to her was Jax. Because he was also trying to accept it.

The guilt was hefty and Tig knew all too fucking well what that’d entail, but he had no idea that Isla was suffering that same thing, too.

“You didn’t know the witness was a kid. None of you were to know that if Rosen didn’t specify.”

“But I was still gonna do it.” He added. “After I found out she was a kid, I was still gonna kill her.”

“But you didn’t.”

He was making it difficult for her to get through to him.

“It was horrible and I know that what you were going to do was bad, but you weren’t the only one there, about to do what you had to for your brother.” Isla’s thumb ran softly underneath his lower lip, hoping the tears welling in her eyes weren’t about to fall to the apples of her cheeks.

Because that’s all that Tig was doing. He was doing this for his brother. For the man that had already sacrificed so fucking much for his club, he deserved every last sliver of prosperity and protection that SAMCRO could offer.

And, perhaps, Tig wanting so desperately to pull that trigger was a way for him to solidify the fact that Opie wasn’t going to be sent away—wasn’t going to suffer more after his wife had been “mysteriously” killed. But Isla simply saw that as him wanting to do an inherently evil thing that’d see the greater good ensue.

Looking past the fact it was a teenage girl, however, was something she had to work on for the sake of her own fucking sanity.

“Thank you.” Tig broke the silence, getting to his feet. He towered over her a little bit as he did so. “See you tomorrow—“

Isla didn’t have enough time to think about what she was doing, but that phrase triggered something inside of her. She grabbed at his hand as he went to slip away, looking up at him with that almost heart-wrenching innocence of hers.

“I did something bad, too.” She blurted, letting her tears fall freely. “I can't say what I did, but it was bad and I regret it every fucking day because I can’t sleep properly, and it’s the only thing on my mind, and I just—“

He silenced her when he wrapped both arms around her trembling frame, holding her impossibly close to his chest as she weepeed into the navy cotton, and he gradually moved a hand upward to twist into her hair.

“It’s alright, baby, let it out.”

Mentally, he commended himself for being the one person that Isla trusted enough to confide in—to crumble before. But it was also sickening because the woman was so fucking stubborn and rarely ever shed a tear in front of a Son.

Chibs was the only one that saw her like this, really.

He felt horrible. Not because she was so upset but because she had so obviously been harboring that emotion, that pain and anguish and she didn’t know how to express it without crying.

“I’m scared, Tig.” Isla mumbled sadly into his chest, trying to sniff back the horrid emotion but failing miserably.

“Of what?”

“Myself. And these stupid things that I can’t stop thinking.”

“Thoughts are normal.” He reassured her, running a hand up and down her back. “Intrusive thoughts are normal. Don’t you worry—“

“You can’t tell me not to worry, because that’s gonna make me worry.” Her words were plied in a weak laugh. “And when I worry, I cry—obviously.”

“Don’t cry.” He chuckled, too, using the pad of his thumb to brush across her cheek. “You’re too pretty to cry this much.”

“And you’re too much of a mean old man to be this comforting.” Tig feigned offense, gasping dramatically at her words. “So, what was it? What pulled at your heartstrings so much that made you think you had to try and make me feel better?”

“It’s my good deed for the day.” Her lips curled upward into a grin when his expression softened.

“Do you think you can extend that good deed?”

He grunted, nodding. “Suppose so. What’d ‘ya want me to do?”

“I was just gonna ask if you’d stay with me again tonight.” All irreverence in her tone had melted away, promptly replaced by a borderline debilitating sincerity. “You don’t have to because we’ve gotta be out early for the funeral tomorrow, and that’d mean you’d have to leave earlier to get yourself fixed up, but—“

“I can leave a little earlier.” He cut her short, still swiping at the tears that wouldn’t quit flowing from her eyes. “If you get your ass up and ready before eight, you can leave with me too.”

“Yeah?” Hopefully, she asked. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Tig confirmed, slinging his arm over her shoulder when she pulled away and pointed toward the end of the hall. “And I guessed that you didn’t wanna head to the garage alone—and Gemma would probably beat the shit outta you if you were late—so if you come with me, you’ll be on time.”

Isla just hummed, thankful for the genuine intentions behind Tig’s actions. He was sweet when he wanted to be.

“Where am I sleepin’?” He asked with a little grunt, a twinge of pain prickling against his ribcage. “I’ll take the couch—“

“Oh, shut up. You’re not sleeping on my couch after getting your shit rocked.”

Tig glared at her, but she simply raised an eyebrow. She gestured to her bedroom.

“Y’know, if we keep spending the night together then people are gonna get a little suspicious.”

“Eh. Let ‘em.” Isla stated offhandedly shimmying her shoulders out of her robe, and throwing it onto her vanity stool as she got to her room. “I don’t care what Gemma thinks.”

“Not so much Gemma.” They shared a knowing look, but he followed her into the room and sat at the edge of her bed regardless.

Isla sighed, sitting beside him.

“If you’re worried about my dad because of how he was this morning, then you don’t need to be. I think he’s just a little bit spun out after last night, and feels bad for Ope—‘cuz, y’know, he’s been through this too.”

Tig’s heartbeat hastened to an almost debilitating tempo, wondering how Isla knew the similarities between Diane and Donna. But she blew those thoughts right out his brain when she built on her response.

“He lost his wife and was left with a kid,” she pointed to herself, “and didn’t know how to navigate this life without the woman he’d depended on for so long. It’s just heavy at the moment.”

“Yeah,” he shook his head a little, looking at his hands bunched together in his lap, “you’re probably right about that.”

“It’s all that it is. He’s just feelin’ it a little more than what we are.”

I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Isla.

“Anyway.” She perked up a bit more. “If you wanna freshen up, I’ve got some shampoo and lotions that don’t smell like roses in the bathroom—and I think there might be some razors in one of those cupboards, too.”

“You gonna join me?”

The tips of her ears began to blaze, stippling heat across her cheeks and down to her neck until she could almost feel how red she was getting.

Despite knowing that was a joke—the habitual banter shared between them—it still forced a feeling to swell in her stomach.

A feeling of something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Maybe tomorrow.” Isla chuckled at the playful pout tugging at his lips, urging him to step into the en suite before she physically fucking exploded.

He grabbed a towel from the pile, walked in, and shut the door behind him, and she threw herself against the top of the comforter with a groan.

At what point had Tig’s harmless flirting turned into something more for Isla, she wasn’t entirely sure. What she did know, however, was that she was definitely enjoying it a little bit too much now.

And that would complicate things, she was certain of it.

But she strived not to let it get to her, and slid underneath the unkempt covers for the second time tonight.

When Tig emerged from the bathroom, he was thankful to see that she’d covered herself up because the tiny crimson cami and shorts combo was killing him.

He wasn’t able to pinpoint just what it was that’d made him feel so differently about that this evening, but he knew that he wasn’t able to get the image out of his fucking head.

“Was that nice?” She asked from the left side of her bed, barely opening her eyes as he stepped onto the carpet.

“It was.” Tig answered softly, picking his jeans up from the ground.

“You can’t seriously be wearing those to sleep in?”

“I’ve slept in more uncomfortable outfits.”

Isla huffed out a breath, gripping the covers and pulling them back. “Wait here.” Begrudgingly, she left the bed again and traipsed toward the cabinet at the end of her hallway.

He watched her saunter away, heeding the crow tattoo on her lower back that he’d never noticed before. He wondered who she’d gotten that for, and he also wondered if anybody even knew about that—because he certainly did not.

“These are clean, you can wear them.” She threw a pair of pajama pants at him from the doorway, hoping he wouldn’t make a face.

Cautiously, he held them out in front of him. “Whose are these?”

“Nobodies. I just learned—from Gemma—to always keep spare shit at my house. Like the shower stuff and razors, and I’ve got things for whoever might need them.”

He smiled, forgetting that she was so thoughtful.

Tig unzipped his pants and slipped into the checkered cotton as Isla rummaged around the bottom drawer of her closet, pulling out a couple of pillows.

“You do this a lot?” He quizzed, getting into bed. “Take care of us guys, I mean.”

“Not really. Only when one of you needs it.”

He nodded, taking one of the two pillows from her.

“Aside from stitching you up two days in a row, the last time I took care of somebody was when Jax and Wendy split and he let her live at his place.”

“He never said.”

“‘Cuz Gemma would go nuts if she found out that he came to me and not his mommy.” She chuckled, settling beside him before flicking the lamp off. “And he only stayed with me for a couple weeks because he didn’t wanna sleep at the clubhouse.”

“So you were harboring Jax from her, huh?” He nudged her, prompting Isla to shift closer to him.

“I guess so.” She joked back through a yawn. “I felt bad for him because she’s such a hardass sometimes. He just wanted somewhere to stay, and somebody to keep him company that wouldn’t ask an abundance of overbearing questions.”

“And you were that somebody.”

“Yup. I was.” Tig turned onto his side to face her. “And I liked it because I hate being alone. It was nice to have somebody around.”

“You? Not wanting to be alone?” Sarcastically, he let out.

Had he not already been hurt, she would’ve slapped the smugness off of his face for that comment.

“What’s that all about, huh?”

“The being alone thing?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know, really.” She mused quietly, pursing her lips. “I think I just got used to being around my dad, and whenever I wasn’t with him I was with Gemma—and I didn’t move into my own place until I was twenty-three, so…”

“So you always had somebody.”

“Yup. I guess I have some attachment issues.” Isla chuckled, silently thanking him for not ridiculing her the way she thought that he might’ve.

But Tig was always so thoughtful when it came to her, and he probably wouldn’t have been able to find it in himself to make fun of that sentiment.

He had his own issues, too. He wouldn’t dream of mocking that she didn’t like to be alone.

“Is it Jax’s?” He asked out of nowhere in reference to the crow. “The tattoo you got.”

Isla froze. She didn’t know that he’d seen it tonight.

Only Tara knew about that. Only Tara knew about a lot of things, it seemed.

“No.” She rasped, hating the way her words became lodged at the back of her throat.

Tig raised a brow. “Whose is it? Is it Juice’s—“

She snorted at his words, and he smiled because he had finally gaged a more positive reaction. Her smile—though barely visible—was most certainly as beautiful as ever.

“It isn’t anybody’s. It’s just a SAMCRO crow.” The smile was weak, now. Faded and pained, but it was there.

She wasn’t lying, but it felt like there was more to the story than what she was letting on, and he was happy with the answer that he’d gotten. So he didn't push it.

“Would you ever get a crow for someone?” A question that he never thought he’d be asking Chibs’s daughter, but a question that he had to acquire an answer to.

After mulling it over for a few seconds, Isla nodded. She laid her hand atop Tig’s that was resting against his pillow, and flicked her eyes upward to meet his gaze as he yawned.

“Maybe one day. But, right now, I’m happy knowing that my little tattoo represents my dedication to the club as a whole—not just refined to one person.”

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