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direnightshade · 3 years

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Okay, I am sitting here imagining all the brushing of hands, secret glances, lingering motions, angsty kisses in the rain out in the garden. I want REGENCY/SLOW BURN. I need it. You need it. We all need it. I would like it with....I want to say Sackler but I think it may be too chaotic. So I will let you choose Sackler of Kylo. I am going to sit here like a small child before their birthday for this...

We do need this, and I never knew that I needed it until you filled my head with it. It’s all I’ve thought about for days, Marie. DAYS. I got a little carried away and, uh, this one’s coming in just a little over 3k.

“Have you heard the news?”

The gentle clink of a porcelain tea cup can be heard as it is settled back down onto its designated saucer. To Marnie’s left, Shoshanna hides her smile behind the rim of her own cup as she tips it back to deposit a dainty sip of the still hot tea into her mouth. Your gaze shifts back and forth between the woman and you shift rather uncomfortably in your seat, brows furrowing in both confusion and mild amusement at whatever it is the two of them are keeping from you.

“No,” you reply, albeit a little more forceful than you’d initially intended. “What news?”

Both Marnie and Shoshanna exchange knowing glances and growing smiles, the looks earning a huff of exasperation from you.

“Out with it…”

“There has been talk,” says Marnie in her typical haughty tone, always so pleased with herself to be the first to know the county’s business, “of a certain someone returning from London.”

There’s that knowing look again, and almost immediately, you find yourself sitting a little straighter, your demeanor a little more lady-like as if preening yourself for the aforementioned someone who hasn’t even shown face. “A certain someone,” you ask, though try as you might, you simply cannot hide the hint of eagerness that shines through the question posed.

“Oh, please.” This time it is Shoshanna who speaks up, once again reaching for her cup of tea. “Do not dare to think either of us to be so foolish as to not know that you are well aware that it is your precious Adam who will be returning.”

A long stretch of silence follows her statement, and for a moment you find yourself at a loss for words, merely left to stare at her in disbelief whilst she sips her tea, quite unbothered by the revelation. Of course it was Adam. Who else could it have possibly been?

The moment that your mind reels and catches up with a very specific descriptor used to describe him your mouth opens to protest, but in true Marnie fashion, she is one step ahead of you.

“Alas, he is no longer hers, is he, Shosh?”

Immediately, your eyes shoot over to where Marnie sits still casually sipping her tea as if she hasn’t just dropped a very large and important nugget of information. Your face heats and your chest tightens at the thought, and yet…

He was never yours to begin with, this you know.

The two of you had merely grown up together; you were nothing more than childhood friends tethered together by an affable bond between two families. When he had come of age, Adam left both his family and you behind in search of work opportunities in London where he had, or so you heard, become even wealthier than he had been prior to his departure. And now…

“He most certainly is not,” Shoshanna replies, now setting her cup down one final time, its contents now completely consumed. Her hands begin to smooth the fabric of her dress, the motion languid whilst she speaks. “I heard that he has become betrothed to a Baroness who is undoubtedly much more well-to-do than anyone at this table…”

An undignified snort escapes Marnie, the sound quickly dispersed by another sip of her now rapidly cooling tea. “Well-to-do financially,” she says once her sip has been consumed. “I heard that Mr. Sackler is rather unhappy.”

“Unhappy?” The word falls from your tongue embarrassingly quickly.

The two women sat across from you both smirk in that abhorrently annoying way they do. “Aye,” says Marnie. “She is a pretty young thing with a wealth one could only dream to have, but alas, I have been told she simply cannot keep a grasp on his heart.”

“She never stood a chance, did she,” interjects Shoshanna. “Not when it has already belonged to another.”

You swallow thickly, eyeing both of the women before you. “There is another?”

Unexpectedly, both Marnie and Shoshanna burst into a brief bout of laughter. “Oh, do not be daft, my dear,” Marnie says once the laughter has faded away. “Do you not recall the summer in which he left for London?”

Once again, Shoshanna interjects. “How he watched you so wistfully from his carriage…”

“No,” you reply almost immediately. “You must be mistaken.” And yet… You find yourself hopeful that these words will ring true.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself this evening.” Marnie’s smirk remains in place whilst she speaks, and like Shoshanna, her cup also now stands emptied. “You are attending the ball for his return, are you not?”

You nod slowly in silent reply, your own cup of tea long forgotten and ice cold.

The second hand of the longcase clock that is displayed in the foyer of the manor in which the ball is taking place now strikes half past seven upon your arrival. A number of guests have already begun to convene in the manor’s ballroom and when you, too, join them you are immediately flanked by both Marnie and Soshanna.

“He’s already arrived,” murmurs Marnie.

“I should hope so,” you reply instantly, “this is his home after all.”

“You look quite the treat,” Shoshanna shoots back, ignoring your quip. “I imagine Adam will undoubtedly agree.” There is a pause, and then a soft gasp as her hand reaches out to grasp your upper arm. “Speaking of which…”

She nods to your right, and when you turn your head, you’re greeted by a sight that steals the breath straight from your lungs. Standing a head taller than most of the others in this room is none other than Adam who, certainly judging by the way he is weaving through the crowd, has noticed your presence as well.

“Is he…” Your question trails off into silence, the words barely a whisper whilst you maintain eye contact, unable to look away from the man who is on a mission to reach you.

“On his way over,” asks Marnie. “Indeed it would seem so.”

Marnie and Shoshanna exchange glances and offer their good lucks and goodbyes, quickly leaving your side to disappear into the crowd before you so much as have the chance to object to their all too sudden abandonment. With a quick pivot, you turn around only to collide with an audible ‘oomph’ into a solid wall of muscle. Two large hands lift in immediate response to grasp your upper arms, steadying you on your feet. Your heart leaps in your chest at the contact and though your eyes begin to lift to look at the man who’s stopped you in your tracks, you are already fully aware of whom those hands belong to.

Slowly, your eyes trail upwards past the black wool vest and the gold buttons that keep it held snugly in place across a body that is much broader than the last time the two of you had crossed paths, past the golden colored ascot that is wrapped around a muscular neck, and further up to a face that looks so similar and yet so very different. His face is framed by dark sideburns that barely manage to peek out from the hair that has grown so long since you had last spoken, the strands appearing so soft in the warm glow of the room that your fingers twitch at the thought, at your longing to reach out and feel for yourself. His eyes, however, are the very same as what you had remembered them to be; still a lovely shade of hazel—honeyed you’d told him once.

Your lips part just as you feel the slip of his fingers from the skin of your arms, and just as it did when he’d left for London, your heart aches yet again.

Softly, your name falls from his own lips in greeting, a pleased smile taking root. “You look lovely tonight, though I will admit I did not think I would have the pleasure of your company this evening.”

A soft smile now touches your features in automatic response to his statement, one which holds so much surprise in the tone. “Yes, well, you were my friend once. I would be remiss if I did not join in celebrating your homecoming.”

The pleased expression on Adam’s face falters only a fraction, but just enough for you to take note. “Are we not still friends?”

There is a lingering moment of silence between the two of you, hesitation preventing you from responding quickly enough, and then: “Friends do not leave one another without so much as a goodbye. Friends do not fail to allow their communications to cease abruptly. So no, I do not suppose that we are.”

He can sense it, the hurt that your tone carries. It is as obvious to him as the melody of the piano that plays in this very room. Adam’s mouth parts, no doubt to provide some sort of explanation, but no sooner has his mouth opened than his name is called from nearby. He turns and you peer around his stocky frame only to find a young, pretty blonde who has now managed to grasp his attention, flagging him down to join her and the three gentlemen she’s convened with.

I heard that he has become betrothed to a Baroness…

...a pretty young thing with a wealth one could only dream to have…

You watch, helpless, whilst Adam leaves you once more, this time to weave his way through the crowd to approach the woman who is undoubtedly this Baroness Marnie and Shoshanna had spoken of so eagerly earlier in the day. He leans in, pressing one kiss to her left cheek followed by a mirrored kiss to her right. It feels now—while you are doomed to watch this unfold before your very eyes—as if your heart has physically cracked, splintering into tiny shards that you are certain may never mend.

Pivoting on the balls of your feet, you turn with the intention of making your exit, but just as your earlier move had been thwarted by Adam, so too are you stopped this time, now courtesy of Marnie.

“Surely you are not leaving so soon.”

The expression that you wear sours which only encourages her to roll her eyes and loop her arm around your own, leading you away from the room’s entrance.

“A valiant effort I will admit, however, you owe everyone a dance.”

You scoff indignantly. “I most certainly do not. Not you nor anyone else. I never agreed to a dance.”

“No,” she counters, only releasing her hold on your arm once she has positioned you to her liking whilst others in the room line up beside you to take their respective places for the dance.

The music in the room shifts and the sounds of a flute now join in with the piano. Across from where you stand is none other than Adam and beside him, the blonde, but like you, he seems to be equally focused on what’s standing across from him.

He swallows harshly and your fingers flex within the elbow-length gloves that you wear, and only once the tempo of the music picks up do you—along with everyone else partaking in the dance—take the hands of those that flank you and begin to step in tandem with the melody in one large, conjoined circle.

When the beat of the music shifts once more, the hands that you grasp now release themselves from your hold, and you turn to your nearby partner to reach for them, clasping one of their hands behind their back and the other behind your own. The two of you twirl and twirl. Your head swivels with each turn, eyes seeking out the familiar hazel. When you finally spot them, you find that not only is he much closer than you had anticipated, but that he, too, has sought out your gaze.

The two of you carry on like this, switching from partner to partner, never once breaking eye contact with one another until…

“I never thought you the dancing type,” Adam says good-naturedly, the corners of his mouth curling in a smirk when the two of you finally manage to pair up.

For a fleeting moment, your lips press together in display of your displeasure—a stark contrast to the sudden and rapid beating of your heart which now pounds against the interior of your ribcage. Gently, Adam glides the pad of his thumb against the back of your knuckles, pulling you from the thoughts that you have begun to lose yourself in.

“I most certainly am not,” you protest. “I can assure you that I did not come here for a dance.”

“Then why did you come here?” There is an edge to his voice, one that—dare you say—sounds hopeful.

His hands grip yours a little tighter and...has he gotten a little closer? You inhale a breath that sounds much like a soft gasp whilst the two of you continue to move in perfect unison.

“I… I came here because I—”

But there is no time to finish your sentence. Just as the song has continued so, too, do you and Adam move onto others, once again doomed to watch one another from afar.

It is two days later when your paths cross again. The sun is shining overhead, the sky is blue, and the flowers have all bloomed to fragrance the garden with their magnificent scents. The only dark cloud that has come to ruin a perfectly good day is that which comes in the form of one Adam Sackler.

He strides so confidently out of the home’s back entrance and into the garden where you stand, a hand delicately caressing the velvety texture of a rose’s petal. He looks, much to your chagrin, every bit as enticing as he had two nights ago, though his golden ascot has since been replaced with one that is blood red. It suits him, you think to yourself before dispelling the thought from your mind.

“What are you doing here,” you ask, the words leaving you in a rush as the rose slips from your grasp when you turn to face him.

“I have come to speak with you,” he replies, stopping short of where you stand in order to keep a respectable distance between you.

“You must be mistaken.” Your head shakes firmly, jaw set and resolve steady. “I did not send for you.”

“No. No you did not, and yet I am here.”

“Why?”

It is obvious in the way that he reels that the bitter tone in your voice has taken him aback. He is silent for a brief moment, lifting a hand to pull the wool felt top hat from his head, exposing more of his flowing mane in the process. “You left in such a hurry the other night. I did not have a chance to bid you a good night.”

The noise that you make is one of indifference. “How mirthful coming from the likes of you.”

“Enough,” he bites back.

Your hands work along the silken fabric of your dress, making vain attempts to smooth the fabric in an effort to keep yourself occupied as you gather your thoughts and debate whether or not to allow them to tumble from your lips.

And yet…

Tumble they do.

“Word spread rather quickly upon your return...of your engagement.”

Adam has the audacity to look shocked at your words.

“You asked me the other night why I came. I had hoped that they were wrong. But then I saw her…”

His brows furrow as if trying to comprehend precisely what it is that you are telling him. His mouth opens and closes only to open again, but before he is able to formulate a cohesive sentence, you continue to let the words flow so freely.

“And yet you had the nerve to look at me so fondly...so...so wistfully, I—” Your words trail off as your head shakes fervently, eyes averting his piercing gaze.

It is now that Adam seizes his chance, taking a step towards you, followed by another. “You are mistaken.”

Your gaze snaps back to his, eyes narrowing as if to decipher whether or not he is telling you the truth. Another step is taken towards you, and grasping his hat firmly in one hand, he reaches for you with the other. This move, however, is one made far too soon. You take a step back, dodging his grasp and halting his movement entirely.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Do not presume to come here and make a play for my heart when you are with another.”

“You are mistaken,” he says again, much more urgently this time.

“Do you love another?” The question leaves you in a rush, and for a moment, there is only silence that follows.

But then…

Adam takes another step forward followed by another and another until finally he is mere centimeters from where you stand. The hat has long since been discarded onto the grass, his hands reaching out to frame your face.

“No,” he says firmly and with conviction. “I love only you.”

He leaves you with no time for a rebuttal; his lips meet yours softly at first, but when you reach to grab the lapels of his coat, fingers curling into the fabric, the kiss quickly becomes much more urgent.

When you are finally able to part from one another, your faces remaining close, your gaze lifts to look at him once more. “But what about—”

“My love, do you always make it a habit to listen to such gossip? There is no one else. There never has been.”

A smile stretches across your features, a mirror of the one that is now displayed so prominently on Adam’s face, the dimples you remember as a child coming to light once more. He leans in yet again to press his lips tenderly to your own.

Finally, at long last, the love you had feared to be unrequited all these years is finally yours.

#Ask #mariesackler #Adam Sackler #Sackler #Regency!Sackler #Adam Sackler x Reader #Sackler x Reader #Regency!Sackler x Reader #Regency Romance

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pinkmirth · 3 years

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𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸!𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗯𝗻𝗵𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀 𝗵𝗰𝘀: 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗲𝘁

[𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀]- 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲𝘀: 𝗯𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗴𝗼𝘂, 𝗸𝗶𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗺𝗮, 𝗺𝗶𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘆𝗮, 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗼, 𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗼𝗸𝗶, 𝗸𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗶, 𝘁𝗮𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗶, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗮𝘄𝗸𝘀

❤︎

𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟮 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲:

❤︎

𝗯𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗴𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗮𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗸𝗶;

•he was getting some spicy food at a street market one day after school. •you then went up to him randomly, asking what would be a good food to get since you were new to japan. •his face practically reddened at the sight of you, but he merely clicked his teeth, saying that he couldn't help you because his taste is extremely spicy. •you responded with a laugh, saying that you were more than capable to handle spice. •you both ended up eating and chatting together as you ate. •well, you did most of the talking as he nodded and grunted in response half of the time.. •nonetheless, you found his company very enlightening, so you asked for his number successfully.

❤︎

"excuse me?" a strangely accented voice called out to bakugou, the boy turning in the direction of the voice. "hah?" he called out as he looked down at you, instantly deeming you as american, hence the accent and your uniquely fascinating look. "is there any food that you can recommend to me? im new here.." you told him sheepishly as you flashed a small smile, the boy's face heating up dangerously. you then started to hear small fizzling noises, your attention drawn to his hands, which were letting out small explosions. "you good?" you asked in a concerned tone. "i thought that you wanted food, the fuck are you worried about me for?" he replied snappily, making you blink your eyes at him. "damn.." you muttered under your breath, though you didn't take it personal. "listen, your tongue is gonna burn the fuck off if i pick out food for you, woman." he laughed in a mocking manner. "boy," you scoffed, "i can handle more than a bit of damn seasoning..!" you chuckled, looking up at him with those dark glistening eyes of yours. he then ordered two small bowls of spicy curry for the both of you and told you to sit your ass down at the nearest outdoor table, to which you only laughed at him. "you didn't have to pay for it, yknow.." you told him, taking a spoonful of food nonetheless. "just think of it as hospitality.. or a welcoming gift or some shit. you're new here anyway.." he grumbled, taking a bite out of his own food. "what's your name?" you asked him, "don't worry about my name," he scoffed, "when i become the number one hero, everybody's gonna know my fucking name!" he said triumphantly, a cocky smirk on his face. "is that so..?" you asked him with a grin, "that's only if i don't become the number one hero..! you gon have to watch out for me, cause i'm your new competition!" you laughed, making his eye twitch. "is that a fucking challenge?" he spoke, "maybe." you replied, taking another bite of your food. he couldn't lie, it impressed him how you were taking full blown spoonfuls and not complaining about any spice, the drink he bought you staying untouched. "ay," you called out, "your face is red! i thought that you was the one tellin' me bout spice!" you snickered. "it's not the fucking spice that's making me blush!" he retorted, his face getting redder as he watched you let out a series of giggles. before long, the food was finished and he was ready to leave the table without even saying goodbye. "aht aht, where you goin to?" you asked him as you stood up with him. "home, the fuck? its not like ive got the time to talk to a stranger all damn day!" he said in defense. "well, you've at least gotta tell me your name!" you whined, "fine, shut up, puffball!" he said as you gasped. "really? puffball?" you gasped sarcastically, a hand at your heart. "you wanna know my name or not?" he snapped, "yes, of course!" you exclaimed, "s'bakugou. don't fucking forget it." he said, watching you nod as you took in the name. "—can i get your number too, bakugou?" you asked as he groaned. "fucking fine.." he grunted, "you got a pen?" he asked, taking a hold of your arm. "i can just get out my phone, the fuck you tryna write on my skin for?!" you said as he chuckled, "its more memorable that way, duh, puffball. you should be damn grateful to be the first to get an autograph from the one and only lord explosion murder." he said, taking the pen you handed him as he wrote his digits on your forearm, the gentle, warm but firm grip he had on your wrist making you unknowingly grin. "now you've gotta do the same. your name and number, puffball." he said, cocking his brow as you started to laugh. "eh, ill tell you allat when I feel like it. see ya, bakugou." you said, disappearing into the crowd of the bustling street market before he could make any snarky remark, a small smirk on his face that even surprised him, he was sure that the feeling that made his ears buzz and heat up was merely irritation. "she's such a damn tease..!" he couldn't even recall when he became intrigued.

❤︎

𝗸𝗶𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗺𝗮 𝗲𝗶𝗷𝗶𝗿𝗼𝘂;

•he "met" you via call. •him, kaminari, and sero were pulling an all nighter together in his room, just hanging out on the bed. •like the immature teenage boys they are, they decided to play 'dare or dare' at two in the morning. •kirishima had been dared to call his number neighbor, which he was hesitant of, despite doing the dare anyway. •the phone rang as he placed it on the bed, the goofy trio looking at it in anticipation, expecting some old geezer to pick up the phone. •boy, were they wrong.

❤︎

"cmon, bro! i did the dare you gave me, so you've gotta do the same!" kaminari urged, making kirishima sigh. "it wasn't even that extreme of a dare! you just had to let sero smack you!" the redhead protested, "and that shit was fun, too. id do it again, ha!" the raven haired boy laughed out, earning a nudge to the side from the electric blond.

"don't be a pussy, just call and hang up if it makes you feel any better!" kaminari suggested, "fine, ill do it!" kirishima gave in, "don't start feeling disappointed when some 100 year old guy picks up the phone, kami!" he huffed.

eijirou dialed the number on his phone,

xxx-xxx-xxxy, which was only the slightest bit different from his number, which was

xxx-xxx-xxxx.

he then set the phone on the bed and put it on speaker, the boys looking within themselves as they waited for the person on the other side of the line to answer.

"nevermind, fuck this.." kaminari sighed, running a hand through his golden blond locks. the phone then finally picked up, kirishima's ears perking up eagerly.

"ahm.. h-hello?" a smooth, feminine voice called out tiredly, the boys gaping at eachother. "uhm.. hello!" kirishima replied, "who da hell out here callin me at two am?" you asked, making the boys tense up your at your tone.

the redhead started to feel bad for waking you up, the sleepiness apparent in your voice. you then let out a series of melodic chuckles, ones that made kirishima want to hold a hand at his pounding heart.

"who this?" you asked, "kirishima! that's my name, at least! im your number neighbor, ha.." he said, "well, kirishima.." you spoke once more, your captivating accent making him infer that you were black, but that only excited him more, leaving him to wonder how beautiful you truly were, "imma talk to you later. a girl gotta sleep, yknow?" you told him, your voice velvety as the sound waves hit his ears.

"y-yeah, sure!" he complied. "ill save your number though, boo." you told him, the simple nickname making him smile to himself.

"wait, what's your name?" he asked you, "y/n. cute name, right?" you giggled, his heart clenching at the sound.

"how about I meet up with you tomorrow, y/n?" he suggested. "that would be nice, kirishima.." you said into the phone, the eagerness heard in your voice to meet this mystery boy, "you had better not be no random dealer.." you sighed, "no, I don't sell..!!!" he gasped in reply. "perfect." you said, "goodnight, kirishima. ion know what you doin up at two am, but have a blast, boo." that was the last thing you said before ending the call.

"...she sounds like a total fuckin’ babe! you're welcome, kiri!" kaminari said, but the sharky boy was too busy thinking about the call, your voice replaying in his head. apparently, eijirou thought dazedly, voice kinks actually ARE real..

"she was..

damn

❤︎

𝗺𝗶𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘆𝗮 𝗶𝘇𝘂𝗸𝘂;

•he met you at some beauty supply store. •you might be wondering; what the hell is deku doing at the damn beauty supply? •see, he was there with mirio to get some stuff for eri so they could do her hair, and he didn't really know what to get. •he saw you in the same isle as him later on and decided to ask what would be good to get for a little girl. •when you turned to him and smiled, he choked on thin air and was astonished with you and your 'melanated' beauty. •despite his nervous stammering, he accomplished in getting your number.

❤︎

"eri-chan, do you like this one..?" izuku asked, holding up a light green bow to her pale blue hair. "deku-san.. any color is fine.." the smaller girl replied, her large red eyes staring into his emerald ones. he sighed before flashing her a small smile, putting the bow back up. he wanted to give the girl something that would make her feel pretty, but he didn't know what she would really like.. "do you know anything about hair products and stuff, togata-senpai..?" midoriya asked mirio, whom only shrugged in reply. "i used to have longer hair, but I didn't really use any accessories, yknow!" the blond replied in his normal ecstatic tone. "oh.." deku sighed, "ill just keep looking!" he then walked into another row, glancing at all the hair products for natural hair, the tropical, warm, and sugary smells sending his nose into heaven. his hair was a bit curly himself, so maybe he'd be able to use some of them..? anyway, he continued to look through the products, letting out a huff, since he didn't find anything eye catching that gave him 'eri' vibes. he then saw a flash of chocolate brown in his peripheral vision, along with a good whiff of a smell similar to all those hair products, making him let out a small moan at the scent, which would probably become his new favorite smell. he turned around to see you, a black girl around his age that was dressed stylishly, your curly/coily hair captivating him as he gazed at you, whom was merely crouching down to look at some hair clips and other things that you were interested in. he then got the great idea to ask for your help! "hello? excus—" he called out to you as you jerked your head up, looking at him with a pack of durable hair ties in hand. he hadn't gotten a good look at your face, but now that he had, his breath had hitched on the spot as he felt heat rise to his freckled cheeks. he wanted to say something, but something about your melanated beauty intimidated him. not like he was scared, but he just wanted to make a good impression so bad that he froze up. you started to stand up from your crouching position, your dark brown/[color] eyes watching him curiously. "hi..!" you spoke cooly in your rich, slang-suffused voice. "h-hi!" he replied briskly, his fists clenched in flustered-ness. "i-i wanted t-to ask.." he stammered, giving himself a slap mentally, "if y-you could help m-me pick out some hair accessories! ones that would be good for a little girl..!" he explained, gulping a bit as he finished. your dark eyes only examined him as he spoke, your plump, glossy lips curving up into a smile that made him melt. "sure! why you ain't ask me earlier, boy? actin all cute and nervous.." you chuckled, making midoriya believe you made him fall in love with a stranger at first sight.. after some looking, you found a pair of red bows that you had just assumed would look good on the girl he spoke of, and that they did, the vibrant color matching with eri's big red eyes. she seemed to like them as well, the six year old girl twirling with the ribbons of the bows around her small fingers. "thank you so much! i think she actually likes them..!" izuku said in relief, the small smile on eri's face making him grin as well. "no problem! happy I could help, man." you said, making your way over to the cashier. he wanted to talk to you more.. "psst!" mirio whispered, "go talk to her!" he encouraged, izuku giving off a brisk nod of courage in reply. "h-hey!" he called out to you. "i-i wanted t-to ask you s-something again...!" he said once more, watching you sling the bag of beauty products onto your forearm as you listened to him, his flustered voice being something you found absolutely adorable. "c-can i h-have your.. number..?"

❤︎

𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗮; *𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘀 𝗪𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗼 :)*

❤︎

•you both sat next to eachother on a train ride home. •but before that, you had noticed him at your membership gym where you did your exercise and acrobatics. •you couldn't help but take glances at him •he was well built, toned, tall, and pretty damn flexible, plus he was shirtless, so of course you had to look.. •you were even gazing at him for so long that you lost your balance and stumbled a bit.. •before you could introduce yourself, which you were more than willing to do, the cute but peculiarly elbowed boy had left. •to your delight, you saw him again as you entered the train for your ride home. •he shares his oranges with you >///<

❤︎

"dayumm.." you whistled lowly, watching a black haired male from across the gymnasium. his back faced towards you, so you couldn't really see his face. you were doing simple stretches, in a side split at the moment, since you weren't in the mood for doing as much exercise. your eyes followed everywhere he went, taking in all of his motions and the flexing of his back muscles that you could see through his flimsy orange tank top, which he was actually starting to take off to your delight, pulling it over his head. your eyes widened before your lips curved up into a small smirk. "ive been blessed with this view.." you joked. you weren't the kind to be obsessed with boys and their looks or anything, but something about this guy was riveting, especially his elbows.. he then turned around, slowly lowering himself into a side splits position as he let a small huff leave his lips, wincing at the stretching of his inner thigh muscles. "he clearly hasn't done this shit in a while.." you said to yourself, watching him stretch forward as he stayed in his side splits position. he then looked up, his eyes meeting yours momentarily. his cheeks reddened in awe as he saw you, whom was already looking at him. he then flashed a wide smile, one that made you smile back, the contrast of your brown skin and pearly whites making him grin even wider. he seemed to slyly wink at you before getting up, walking over to another area of the gymnasium as you huffed over his departure. or maybe that wink was just your imagination..? "come back, hot guy.." you whined to yourself, getting up as well and making your way over to the nearby aerial skills fabric, only because you wanted to do something impressive that the black haired boy would see from afar. you made your way up the fabric, pulling yourself up with the incredible upper body strength that you had. you set yourself in a comfortable position, also in a position as to where you could see the 'elbows' guy a lot clearer. "it should be illegal to go around lookin that damn good.." you said to yourself, watching him do a simple form of yoga by himself in a calm corner. he then opened his eyes abruptly, digging into the pocket of his sweats to take out his phone, which was going off, probably for an alarm that he had set up. he got up, stretched a little more, and started to grab his belongings. you then scoffed, immediately getting down from the fabrics. there was no way that you'd allow him to leave before you got to know him.. you then started to jog towards him, since he was a ways away from you. he began to rotate his arms a bit, his muscles flexing as he did arm circles, making you stop in your tracks as you watched him. was this his quirk or something, or did every little thing he did leave you addicted? you felt yourself practically leaning in as you watched him pack up his things, his side profile showing off none other than his gleaming smile that he always seemed to have on his cute face. he slipped his orange top back on and made way for the exit, and that's when you finally snapped out of your trance, your ankles giving out as you fell on the ground, due to looking for so long that you had started to lose your balance. "shit, man.." you winced, rubbing at your ankles. by the time you looked up, he was gone. "i know i didn't snap my ankles just so mans could walk away.." you grumbled, getting up and slipping on your tracksuit jacket. you didn't want to do much today anyways, so you we're ready to go home. as you walked to the train station, you payed mind to a small but noticeable limp in your step, a mild pain tingling in your ankle. it wasn't bad, but it wasn't too fun either.. you huffed, making your way onto the train, trying to find yourself a seat and ignore the small awkward looks that people gave you because of your natural appearance that you obviously couldn't change. you only shrugged. im black, so what? the fuck..? you thought, though you weren't one to spark an argument and say it out loud. you were more than used to it anyway, so why give a damn anymore? though, somebody noticed it going on, and they couldn't stand it. "hey," a voice called out to you, "wanna sit with me?" you turned to see the same black haired boy from the gym, smiling sweetly at you as he moved his duffel bag just so you could sit. "...yeah, thanks." you replied cooly, but in the inside, you were freaking out. who knew that he'd be on your train?! "you okay?" he asked you, noticing your slight limp and your aerobic leggings as you chuckled, "whaddya mean specifically? the hating ass looks or my limping?" you said to him, "both." he replied quickly, his soft black bangs swaying as he leaned forward a bit to take a good look at you and your alluring afrocentric features. "um.. are you good? your face is getting all red." you told him, his eyes widening. "i-it is? sorry.." he chuckled in apology, leaning back into his seat with his hands resting at his knees. "...i saw you at the gym earlier, yknow." he told you, "those aerobic skills were pretty damn cool." he told you, the same smile on his face that you were sure you'd never get tired of seeing. "yeah, well i might have to take a break from them for a hot minute..." you sighed, regarding your ankle. "hey, you want an orange?" he asked abruptly as you blinked at him. "boy, did you just ask me if i wanted an orange?" you queried at his random suggestion. "yeah, ive got a few in here! they're my favorites~" he said with a large grin, "they always help me feel better. well, it might not help with physical pain, but—" he started, "nah, it's all good, i get it whatchu mean." you chuckled, taking the fruit that he handed to you. of course, it wasn't the best to take things from strangers, but there was something about him and his flashy smile that made you trust him. you both ate the fruit in silence, the only thing heard being the minimal chatter of other passengers and small rattling sounds of the rails. as you sat next to him, the warmth of his body radiating onto yours as your shoulders touched, it felt as though it was only you and him.. his phone then started to ring as he took it out of his pocket, giving you a look of apology for the abrupt noise. "s'my mom.." he chuckled before answering the call. "hola mamá!" he said into the phone, clearly speaking another foreign language, "qué pasa? oh, lo que estoy haciendo?" she had asked him what he was doing, but of course, you didn't understand the language he spoke, so you merely sat there, listening to the smoothness of his deep voice as he spoke into the phone. "uh.. bueno esta chica, ella está sentada mi lado.." he spoke lower, though you didn't know why, "una linda chica negra.." little did you know that he was gushing over you to his mom, "n-no, mom! no mi novia!" he cried out, only making you assume that his mother had said something embarrassing to him, "uhh.. talk to you later, ma.." he said, briskly ending the call with a huff. "what were you even saying?" you asked with a giggle as he tensed up, not wullling to explain to you about how he told his mom that he was sitting next to a cute black girl... "w-we were talking about oranges..!" he said on the spot as you tilted your head. "really..?" you asked, since he seemed more than unsure of his answer. "uhm.. yeah," he said, "we were talking about how we'll need to grow more because..." he trailed off, then got an idea, looking at you as his warm grin widened, "because i have a new friend to share them with!"

❤︎

𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗼𝗸𝗶 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗼;

•winter time! ⁂ •you were at the grocery store, just getting the mandatory food items. •after getting all the stuff you needed, you decided to get your favorite comfort food; •soba. preferably hot. •just as you went to grab for some, you saw a bigger, more muscular hand reach for the same pack of buckwheat noodles. •as your hands rubbed, you let out a hiss, because their hand was mad cold. •you looked up to see a tall charming boy around your age, the two sides of his face looking extremely different. •you stared at him for a while before he called out to you, seeming to be the fifth time since you were too busy looking at his face.. •who ends up getting the soba?

❤︎

you rolled your cart to another side of the grocery store, letting out a sigh of relief that you had finished most of your shopping. you then saw a bit of cool smog leaving your mouth, making you roll your eyes in bafflement. it was winter time and you were decked up, wearing a knee-long bubble coat, uggs and a scarf, so the fact that this grocery store had the audacity to put air conditioning on at such a cold period in time made you want to cuss them out. "it's even colder in here than it is outside, dammit.." you muttered, rolling your cart around some more until you got to where you wanted; the rice and noodles section. you were itching to get some hot soba, especially with the sauce that you'd always eat it with. your mouth curved up into a smile, thinking about eating the bowl of noodles as you watched anime by the time you got home. you put your cart aside in a place where it wouldn't be bothersome, and reached your hand out for the food. just as you did, a pale and muscular hand reached out for the same item, making you immediately withdrawal your hand because of the sub-zero temperature of his skin.. "sorry." the person said in a deep, calm tone. you then looked up to see a tall teenage boy dressed in a cream colored turtleneck and black pants, his face seemingly crafted by angels.. the two sides of his face were complete opposites, making you even more drawn to him as you stared. "hello?" he called out for what seemed like the fifth time, snapping you out of your thoughts. "hm? oh, sorry!" you apologized, "you can have it if you want." he said, ready to walk out of the aisle as you panicked a bit. "no, you can have it! go ahead!" you said to him as he turned back around. "it seems that you were anticipating to get that, so it's okay." he said, blinking his eyes a bit. he merely stood there for a bit, thinking as he looked at the ground. "how about i buy it for you?" he offered, making your eyes widen. "no need to do that, it's aight!" you told him. "it's not a problem to me. i have my father's credit card, so im more than willing to splurge. besides, it's the holiday season, so i should do something nice for another, shouldn't i?" he explained in question, taking the soba and handing it to you with a small smile, one that made your heart pound within your chest. "ah.. thank yo— ack!" you whimpered as his hand touched yours, now being extremely hot this time. "sorry, it's my quirk.." he told you. "you good.." you shrugged it off, "i guess that's why you're only wearing a turtleneck in this freezing store?" you asked him with a chuckle as he nodded. "oh, the soba fell.." he said in realization, the both of you bending down to pick it up at the same time, resulting in you two bumping your foreheads together. you stumbled back a little bit until he caught you, the coolness of his breath slightly hitting your face, the small gap between your faces making your ears heat up and his face flush red. "..i-i keep messing up, im sorry.." he said once more in a more sheepish tone, helping you upright. "it's fine, no need to keep apologizing." you told him. "you still want that soba?" he asked you as you nodded. "let's go to the cashier if you're ready." he told you as you nodded, still feeling so touched that he was willing to pay, no matter how many times you told him that it was okay. "y/n." you said out of the blue. "hm?" he hummed in response. "im y/n. since you insist on buying stuff for me, you should at least know who i am, yes?" you asked him with a smile. "right. im shouto." he said as you nodded. "i can't thank you enough, shouto!" you said with gratitude as he flashed a small, close mouthed grin once more. "no problem, y/n" just as you two were about to leave the aisle, an employee rolled in a cart of soba, probably containing more than 300 packs. "how lucky.. would you like more?" he asked you, pointing at the cart, "im feeling rather generous today, y/n" he told you. you got the racks for allat?!" you asked while gaping at him. just who exactly is he? "well, i can't.." he said, holding up the credit card, "but my father can."

❤︎

𝗸𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗶 𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗸𝗶;

•the first time he saw you, you weren't even fully clothed. •which is his ideal way to meet a hot black girl, of course.. •he was simply out shopping with the bakusquad •he then went to the fitting rooms to try on some clothes. •because he is a smart individual, he immediately went to the biggest stall. •only to see you in skinny jeans and a bra, your eyes widening as you saw him, whom had frozen in place, heavily embarrassed but somewhat excited. •after apologizing and leaving, he helped you find some good clothes that were your style and matched your skin tone well. •and there's absolutely no way that he'd meet someone as amazing as you and not want to get your digits..

❤︎

"kiri, tell the group that ill be trying out these hoodies, 'kay?" kaminari said to his red headed friend. "sure, bro!" kirishima agreed, waving off as the electric blond made his way to the fitting rooms, which were unisex. "the biggest ones are the best ones..!" he mumbled to himself, zooming straight to the largest stall. he whistled to himself as he swung the door open, only to see you, a [height] black girl in a bra and ripped skinny jeans, pulling a tshirt over your head. guess the stall's lock wasn't stable.. the both of you froze, his widened eyes wandering as you held your breath, your face heating up in embarrassment. "i-im so sorry—shit!!!" he cried out before leaving the stall rather quickly. you merely stood there, biting your lip at the abrupt situation. "..the fuck, bruh.." you murmured, putting on the shirt that you wore to the mall, since you had finished changing. you walked out to see the same golden blond standing outside of the stall, running his hands through his hair with a sorry expression, his face flushed red as he muttered profanities over what he'd done. "ey," you called out to him, tapping on his shoulder, "did you like the view?" you asked cheekily as he gaped at you. you weren't really one to take things to seriously, and you could turn any situation into a bright one with a few jokes here and there. "uh.. there's no right way to answer that, is there..?" he replied with a nervous chuckle. "don't lie, you was lookin! i don't blame you though, im hot." you said with a shrug, making him laugh. "so you're a little comedian, aren't you..?" he asked you, folding his arms across his chest, clearly feeling more comfortable than before. "depends on whether im talking to a cute blond or not. so.. you know the answer, yeah?" you giggled, making him smirk. your entire being made him want to give you a hug. you were pretty, clearly damn hot, funny, confident, and you were highly melanated? he had been finding himself gravitating towards chocolate girls for a while, but you were different from the rest, of course in the best way. he was wondering whether he had won the lottery, the both of you probably being a match made in heaven, hence the small similarities between you and him that he could already notice. he liked you. "you gon keep smirking at me or are you gonna use that stall?" you asked him sarcastically, "well, i might as well warn you about that lock. utter shit, man. that's why the door swung open so easily.." you muttered as he laughed once more. "only if you join me, pretty lady.." he said with a wink as you gasped playfully. "word?" you asked as he nodded with a hum. "bet, get in there!" you exclaimed, the both of you going back into the large stall. "so," he said, sitting down on the bench inside of the stall, "how can I get to know you?" he asked smoothly, a grin on his face. "ah, you tryna be slick, huh?" you chuckled, "well, you can start off with my name. y/n." you told him. "sounds beautiful." he complimented with another smile. "oh, stop it.." you laughed, waving your hand dismissively. "im denki, or maybe your boyfriend, whichever one you wanna call me.." he said as you giggled, liking his second option. "i can help you get some good clothes, if that's what you're looking for!" he suggested as you raised your brows. "oh really?" you hummed, "really!" he replied, getting up from the bench and holding out his hand to you. "cmon, y/n! let's go shopping."

𝗮𝗺𝗮𝗷𝗶𝗸𝗶 𝘁𝗮𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗶;

•he was simply on patrol with red riot and fatgum. •all of a sudden, you rushed up to him frantically, a worried look on your face. •he instantly remembered you as the girl from class 3-b, whom he had actually been a bit interested in for a while.. •he'd take glances of you whenever he saw you in the cafeteria and whatnot. •you were a good friend of mirio's but you and tamaki has never actually spoken until now. •you started to explain to him how this guy was following you and calling you a flurry of racial slurs. •he immediately started to feel his blood boiling. •anxious tama is gone, time to be a hero.

❤︎

"you want another bowl of yakisoba, amajiki-sempai?" kirishima asked cheerily, "fatgum bought some more!" he told tamaki. "i-i'm fine, t-thanks.." the elf-eared boy replied, tugging at the hoodie of his hero outfit farther so it could cover his face more. he was on patrol with the eight foot, blond haired pro and the younger hero in training, simply walking through a city in japan with a mindset ready to defend, which is what tamaki would have to do soon for you, whether he was ready or not.. he suddenly felt a pair of hands grip onto his arm, their fingers digging into his clothed bicep in fear. he yelped out as he looked down to see a familiar black girl with a shaken expression, the elf eared boy pressing his lips closed at the sight of you, his slanted eyes widening along with his face heating up. "..youre amajiki, yeah..?" you asked him as he nodded briskly, not daring to make a sound before he stuttered himself to an embarrassing point of no return. he knew you! well, he couldn't exactly say it that way, it made it seem as though you two were close. he would actually admire you from afar in school, with all honesty. he recalled you to be the pretty, brown skinned outgoing girl with a high puff that would usually be seen around mirio, since the two of you were both in class 3-b. he could practically feel the words itching to crawl up his throat and leave his mouth, though he didn't even know what those words would be.. what would he say to you? "oi, amajiki! i really need your help right now.. i heard that there was patrolling going on, so I just followed the sight of fatgum's head through the crowd.." you told him, snapping him out of his trance as he let out a yelp once more, the tall but introverted teen looking down at you, uncomfortable hums leaving his mouth due to his uncertainty of how to finally speak to you, which he was fucking up royally. "there's this guy.. he keeps following me and calling me some.. not nice things." you explained, "and he's making me uncomfortable.." you told him, his brows furrowing. "a-are you o-okay..? d-do y-y-you.. argh!" he gave up speaking for the time being as you looked up at him with a confused expression, your hands still holding onto his arm, as if you were trying to latch onto him for a sense of comfort. "its aight, miri told me that you aren't the most social guy.." you sighed, "but id really appreciate if you could keep a look out for that guy.. he looks mad sketchy, also wearing a goofy ass 'all lives matter' shirt..." you whispered to him, starting to walk with him through the bustling streets behind fatgum and red riot, your hands still around his arm as he looked around with an intimidating look, in search for whoever had been bothering you. "...w-what did h-he say t-to you..?" the indigo haired teen asked as you scoffed. "you don't wanna know, amajiki." you told him as he gave you a look. "oh, you actually wanna know? like, deadass?" you asked once more to make sure as he nodded hesitantly. "cmere then.." you signaled him to crouch down a bit so you could whisper all the info into his ear. "w-wha— he f-followed you... for t-that long..?! just because of.. oh.. o-oh no.." he muttered incredulously, now feeling his blood starting to rush in an angry flurry. how dare someone taunt and bother you like this just because you were different? "and then, he called me a——" you whispered the word into his ear as he gasped loudly. "h-how r-rude!!!" he wailed as you huffed in agreement. "and he wouldn't seem to leave me alone.. well, not until i mixed with the crowd and found you, that is.. i think I've lost him.." you said, "thanks, amajiki.. you've already helped me a lot.." you said to him graciously as he gave off an awkward smile in return, averting his eyes from yours. "n-no problem.." he replied, though his job wasn't done just yet. he finally spotted the man at the corner of his eye, whom was seemingly making his way towards you. "oi, the dark one!" they called out as you groaned, "oh hell nah.." you uttered with the roll of your eyes. "we don't need people like you here! the last time i came out to the city, a black pest stole my wallet!" he shouted, most people in a hearing range stopping in their tracks and turning to you, amajiki and the man. "s-she hasn't s-s-stolen anything..!" tamaki stammered, "so l-leave her a-alone!" he urged, the crowd cheering suneater on as others opposed the racist, shouting at him to leave you be. "oh yeah? lemme check her first, she probably stole something from one of these markets!" he said, lunging towards you as everybody gasped. tamaki activated his quirk swiftly, entrapping the man in his manifested tentacles. "don't touch her." he demanded, earring cheers from everyone around, but he didn't really care about all that, he just wanted you to be safe. tamaki turned around, looking down at you with worried eyes as he kept the man trapped with his quirk, "a-are you o-okay..?" he asked shakily as you grinned at him. "yup, i am now," you told him before planting a kiss on his cheek, "you a real one, suneater."

❤︎

𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗮𝗺𝗶 𝗸𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗼 ^ (𝗵𝗮𝘄𝗸𝘀);

❤︎aged!up!reader!❤︎

•it all started when he asked you if you fell from heaven. literally. •you're a young adult pro hero whom is good with combat skills and such. •but you aren't the best at using your quirk: hover. •your quirk allows you to hover over 500 feet from the ground, but you'd never used it to its full capacity, only working it up to 100 feet. •you were working on using it to a farther capacity, and since you have a hero license to use your quirk in public, you decided that you'd just work on it while out patrolling. •big mistake.. •but never fear! fast man Hawks was there to swoop you off of your feet and into the sky~

❤︎

"you can do this, y/n.." you told yourself as you hovered above countless buildings, which was the height that would usually be your limit. today, that would change, aiming to touch the clouds. you looked up farther into the never ending sky, a small shuddering sound leaving your mouth. maybe it wouldn't be too bad to cancel practice for today and stay on the ground.. "no! i should try at least..!" you encouraged yourself, hovering higher and higher until even the skyscrapers looked like ants. you then felt a strong pressure around your entire body because your system wasn't used to it, making you writhe in the air as your quirk started to deactivate. "nonono, oh shit!!!" you screamed, falling helplessly through the sky, your [color] braids whipping around from the wind as you came closer to the ground, many screams leaving your mouth in fear. before you hit the ground, you got swooped up before the impact, a flurry of red feathers around you. "the fuck—?!" you shouted, looking up to see the undeniably charming face of the one and only number two hero, hawks. "hey there, pretty birdie~" he chirped as you merely glared at him, still shaken from your freefalling. "did it hurt when you fell from heaven???" as he spoke teasingly, you looked down to see that he had flown higher up than you were before, your eyes widening. "g-get me down, hawks!!" you pleaded, your hands gripping onto his brown jacket as he only chuckled. "i saw what you were doing up here.." he told you, "don't you still wanna learn how to pass your limit? i can teach you if you want~" he offered you sweetly, still flying about with you in his arms as you both soared through the sky, the feeling that you were despite of at first now feeling more comforting and stress-less. "t-that would be great..!" you yelled, since the sounds of the wind made it hard to hear, "but can you put me down..?" you asked him as he blinked before letting out another laugh. "right, i forgot about that! sometimes, when i start flying i can't come down. i should warn you, its addicting to feel so free up here..." he told you. "can you get me down now?! geez, nigga.." you scoffed as he let out an awkward chuckle, "sorry, i should also warn you that talking is addicting to me as well.." he told you, flying down to the surface and putting you down as you shakily stood, your hands clenching at his coat once more as he laughed over your behavior. "we were just a few feet off the ground, it wasn't so bad that youve gotta wobble!" he chuckled as you glared at him. "a few feet???" you gawked. he waved his gloved hand dismissively, linking his arm with yours as he started to walk out into the bustling street with you, the two of you sending smiles and waves to fans whom recognized the two of you as the pros in the top five. "do you have to link onto my arm?" you asked with gritted teeth. he wasn't exactly annoying you, per se, you were just still very frazzled about the little flight he took you on. "of course i have to stay linked onto you!" he laughed, "birds gotta stick together, yeah?" he said. "i ain't a damn bird!" you yelled out as he replied, "but you can fly, can't ya?"

❤︎

[mirio, shigaraki, shinsou, etc. will later be added!]

^^^

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razrbladekiss · 3 years

Text

Tyrants | Chapter Five - Consolation

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

WARNINGS: Mentions of murder, grief, the aftermath of that death...all that Jazz! Plus a lil moment I’ve been fucking itching to include.

Chibs's breath was stuck in the middle of his throat, jutting thickly the more he thought about Opie cradling Donna's sallow cheeks as she bled out onto the gravel.

It'd cut deep, this one.

So many bodies he had bared witness to over the years. So many lives lost and souls snatched and whatever else right before his undaunted eyes--but nothing really hurt as much as that.

Because he knew what it was like. How it maimed a man. How it felt like his world was hurtling toward the chasms of hell during the moments after arriving at the scene and seeing his wife there. Dead.

Cold and dead and lonely. And completely gone.

Guilt resided, too. It was true tangible remorse for the simple proficiency of; that should've been me.

It happened with Diane--it happened to Chibs's wife, the mother of his kid, and the one true light in his life right after Isla. And it should've been him.

It was brutal, the way it happened tonight. It was fierce and heartless and Chibs knew in a flash that those bullets struck the wrong skull.

He couldn't bear the reverberation anymore, the gutturals from Piney's son who'd just lost his wife for no good reason during a drive-by in their quaint little town. The town that'd swelled wickedly with corruption these last few weeks.

Stahl was at the scene before he left. Looking pensive, actually. She looked guilty.

Chibs's basic instinct had landed the blame at her door--put the blood on her hands--but he kept his mouth shut for fear of what'd happen next. He didn't think that SAMCRO could handle this.

Because this wasn't a product of Mayan or Niner rivalry. He wasn't stupid--he knew that his President had something to do with this.

This was cultivated from the seeds sown by June Stahl, the pips planted so very deeply into the mind of Clay Morrow which forced him to believe that Opie Winston was a rat.

And he wasn't. He'd never sell his club out--no matter the damage, the pain inflicted upon him--and he'd never dream of pinning the fault on his brothers.

But he had to look a little bit closer to home if he wanted those answers. If he wanted to know just who sniped Donna--a completely innocent woman caught in the most ferocious of crossfires--he had to turn to someone that he knew was culpable of such activity.

Chibs's heart ached. It impaired him so very deeply that the only thing he could visualize on the ride back to Jax's house was her face.

Her face that dripped blood. Saturated crimson plagued his thoughts and forced his stomach to churn vociferously. He felt sick now.

He felt sick because Opie had lost his wife, Piney had lost a crucial member of his small family, and her kids had lost their mother. The woman that had worked so tirelessly to provide a life for them, to love and care for them unconditionally no matter what.

Opie was strong, he knew that--but he didn't know if he was strong enough to handle this. This crippling weight, this hurt and the idea of what could've been done differently.

Because so much could've happened to prevent this.

His tongue had become inoculated with bile, acrimonious ire for whoever the fuck was to blame for such unnecessary brutality--and, really, Chibs knew that he didn't have to look much further than Isla's favorite blue-eyed heathen this time.

And that broke his heart because of the pedestal she held that man upon. The pedestal she'd always held him atop, so fucking highly, too.

She knew that he was bad--an inherently bad human being--but he was just Tig. Her buddy. Clay's right hand that, really, he'd always count on. No matter what. And he'd always deliver the king's request, too.

Tig was the one that Isla called when her car broke down on the freeway and she needed to get home in time for Gemma's dinner.

The one she turned to for cheering up because he always knew how to crack a smile and get through to her.

The one that she strangely respected the most. Nobody really recognized what it was about that man that had Isla overjoyed when in his presence, she just was. And that was part of his charm.

But her father was anxious, now. Worried that she would take this news--if it came to light--badly. Because it was going to break her heart, regardless.

It was how she would handle it, which was the true hardship.

"Christ." Chibs's voice struggled to materialize, gesturing to his daughter passed out on Jax's couch. "How long's she been sleepin'?"

Mascara and eyeliner and whatever the fuck else she'd painted onto her face had started to melt away, trails of black and grey faintly running her cheeks.

"'Bout an hour." Gemma responded, sniffling back the putrid emotion she'd so obviously let flood the moments leading up to their arrival.

Jax's stomach was doing backflips at the thought of Isla crying herself to sleep in his living room--after everything that he'd put her through, too.

He feared that this was going to be the tip of the iceberg. That this was going to pulverize her sanity and compromise everything she had sought to fight off these last few days.

And he couldn't help but harbor those same suspicions as her father, either. Jax wanted to keep his mouth shut until he was certain that this was an inside job, but he was teetering toward that conclusion regardless.

It was the only viable explanation.

He, too, worried about what this would do to her. That finding out Tig was the potential culprit and reason why Opie's children were officially motherless.

"How's Ope?" She continued, already knowing the answer but asking anyway. Jax's head shook. "Oh."

"Not good, ma. But he's home now."

"And you're sure of that?"

"Yeah--I followed him back to make sure he got there in one piece. He wanted to leave the second the fuckin' ATF stormed in."

"Oh." Gem repeated herself, running her fingers through Isla's hair as she rested in her lap. "What about Clay? Where'd he get to?"

Chibs took a seat at one of the wooden chairs that'd been positioned around the coffee table, and Jax sank into the couch opposite the girls.

It was pitiful. Darkness enveloped them as Isla slept, innocently resting as the world shattered around her.

She wasn't oblivious to the happenings. She hadn't slept through it all, but she was done. Isla had been distant for days, had been fretting over the unimaginable and Gemma was worried that she was going to make herself sick if she continued the way that she was.

So she twisted her fingers and nails through the flowing waves of golden blonde, and soothed her the same way that she always did.

The same way that she found comfort as a kid.

He sighed. Exhausted. "Dunno. Last I saw he was with Tig."

"Aye." The Scot agreed with a nod, too. Hating the thought of Trager being responsible for something like this.

But it was merely a suspicion that Chibs hoped and prayed would get debunked sooner or later.

"Did he say anything?"

"Nah. He talked a little to Unser--seems to think it was a hit on Ope gone wrong--so, I guess they're gonna be lookin' into the Niners."

"Aye." Chibs spoke again, gesturing to Isla. "Did she say much when we left?"

"Not really--she just busied herself and cleaned up with Wendy. Seems like they're getting along now."

Jax smiled a bit, happy that his best friend and the mother of his child were starting to accept the presence of one another in Abel's life.

Truly, that's all he really wanted. That and his mother finally being able to turn the other cheek, and quit castigating his kid's mom.

"Did Clay leave before you?" Gemma asked, antsy. She was itching to get home, itching to see and comfort her husband because she knew that he was going to be fretting over this.

"I told you, the last I saw, he was with Tig. Dunno if he left after us, or if he's still there."

She looked away, smoothing her thumb over Isla's cheek.

"He'll be home soon--I should take off."

"Not on your own." Jax upheld, simply terrified of what could've happened to his mother had she left alone.

As far as Jax wanted her to know, this was bad blood between clubs. This was a hit put out on an innocent bystander because they knew it'd jolt SAMCRO--and it did.

It shook them to the very fucking core, jutting them repeatedly--mere moments away from crumbling and completely disintegrating into Harley Davidson dust.

And he really didn't want to admit that this was the work of his step-father and Alexander Trager. But he feared that was the only viable explanation.

"I'll--eh--I'll take her back." Chibs offered, getting up to ghost a hand over Isla's blushed cheek. "I was gonna take her home with me tonight, but I think she's better off stayin' put."

Jax agreed with a nod, smiling weakly at his mother. Though, she knew it was a coverup. A not-so-brilliant facade and attempt at showing that he was okay during this barbarous time.

"I don't wanna wake her." She mused, pushing strands of hair from her face. "She looks so damn peaceful."

Gemma hadn't a cozy moment with Isla for a while--not since she was recovering from a broken heart four summers ago.

The last time that she turned to Gemma--the same way she would as a child--for that motherly comfort.

"I know." The older man crouched to the ground, tracing faintly along her arm. Isla grumbled, slowly rousing. "C'mon petal, it's gettin' late."

He kept a hand against her, running this thumb over the freckled skin softly. Diane's crucifix caught his eye as she shifted, impairing him that little bit more tonight.

"What time is it?" She asked roughly, feeling a sting in her throat. Isla lifted herself off of Gemma's lap, rubbing at her eyes. "Is it late?"

"It's about one o'clock."

"Shit." Her hiss was sharp, galled that she'd been allowed to rest for so long whilst there was a literal wildfire sweeping its way through the club. "Ope--oh my god--Opie. Is he okay?"

Isla knew the answer. She knew what Jax was about to say before he even opened his mouth, and so tears ensued. Crystalline hues weeped and watered, and he was unsettled.

Unsettled because she was so strong in the face of such tragedy, rarely shedding any tears before an audience.

Unsettled because, up until the Kohn incident, Jax hadn't seen her cry since she was shot in the knee after three Mayans decidedly stormed the T M lot and strived to gun down each and every person on the premises.

He never forgave himself for that, actually. Because those bullets--though completely un-fatal and leaving a simple mark that, really, Isla referred to as her battle scars--should've been for him.

"He went home. To be with the kids." Jax cleared his throat, kneeling in front of her when Chibs got to his feet and gestured for Gemma. "He's--uh--he's in a bad way."

"Understandably." She mumbled. "Any ideas on who did this?"

Your favorite son.

"No. Clay thinks it might've been the Niners--shits been off since they decided to pull their fucking guns on us after the warehouse was raided."

"That was their rationale?"

"I guess so." He added. "It'd make sense. We lost their guns, so we lost a life--"

"But Donna." Isla argued, sitting upright. "Donna was innocent."

"We know that, love, but Laroy was probably under the impression that Ope was the one behind the wheel." Her father spoke over Jax, heeding his uncertainty. "It wasn't meant to be her."

Chibs had to blow his theory out of the water, firstly.

"A life is a life. To them, so long as they've got one of ours--someone close to us--they've succeeded with somethin'--"

"All they've succeeded with is leaving two kids without a fucking mother." Isla spat, throwing away the small blanket that Gemma had draped over her as she stood up. "And you've gotta stop being so fucking insensitive."

Jax stumbled backwards, watching her storm out of the room in her pretty little summer dress. He couldn't surmise whether following behind or leaving the woman to simmer alone, was the best idea.

It was a touchy subject, the loss of a parent. It was prickly and raw and it never ceased to strike Isla's heart. Because she understood.

She understood how much it hurt. The uncertainty of it all. Not knowing what to do next. How life changes more than what anyone ever prepares you for and, really, how nothing is ever the same again.

Isla knew it all too well. She'd been there, done that, and refused to go back. But with Chibs's life, his line of work, she was never granted that security.

And it wasn't particularly the security that she wanted, more so the knowledge of what--god forbid anything--would happen to her father. Because that's what bothered her the most about Diane.

She never knew anything about her mother's passing.

Jax got a pretty tight grip on the concept, too. But it was different with Isla--it was something she never quite grasped.

"A life is a life," Gemma mocked the insensitivity from the baffled Scotsman, shaking her head. "That wasn't just any life, Chibs. That was Opie's woman, the mother of his children, and one of Isla's oldest friends--she was family. She wasn't just a life."

His lips twitched before he exhaled sharply, knowing that she was right.

Knowing that his response was much too unsympathetic and heartless and, really, he was an idiot to forget how upset she got whenever something that pertained to the death of her mother was brought up.

"Your kid is grieving. She's grieving for Ope, for Piney, for Kenny and Ellie--for herself because this--" she gestured to nothing in particular, but he understood, "--is something she knows all too well, ain't it? Diane?"

"I know." Tersely, he responded. He pulled a hand through his hair. "I fuckin' know how she feels, but I didn't think she'd storm out when I said it!"

"Well, she's always been unpredictable."

"I know." His riposte was braided with anger, pure fury.

"Then why'd you say it?" Gemma jabbed. "Isla has been about six thousand miles away from us these last few days, and you thought that saying such a stupid thing wouldn't tip her over the edge?"

She was defensive of the blonde--always had been.

And Jax was sick of it.

Sick of the back-and-forth between the two. Sick of that holier than thou bullshit from Gemma--pretending that she wasn't thinking the same fucking thing--and sick of the way Chibs cared more to argue than to go after his daughter.

"Make sure Wendy stays if you two leave--I'm going."

"Where?" Chibs demanded.

But Jax just glared at him, stuffed his hands in both pockets, and walked straight out of the house.

It was cooler, now. The breeze had hit him square in the face the second he stepped over the threshold, and it was nice. To feel a little breeze that'd inevitably take the edge off of the lament sizzling away inside of him, was nice.

It was short lived, though. The second he realized that he couldn't see Isla--that she was completely out of sight--dragged him straight back down to earth, and the panic had set in.

He trusted her, of course he knew that she wasn't going to do anything stupid because she valued her life too much, and she wanted to do great things. So many great things.

But Jax also knew her too well. Well enough to know that the first place she would've thought about storming toward was the Clubhouse--the place that she'd find Tig.

And under any other circumstances, he wouldn't have rushed to get to her before she had a chance to get to T M. But the possibility of walking in and discerning Trager's inconsolable fury--his resentment and self-loathing--was much too great a risk for Jax to take.

He had to intercept.

He had to save her before she got the chance to set foot onto the property.

But, realistically, Jax was more than aware that Isla was probably already halfway there by now, and weaving through the unusual bustle of traffic in his small town just wasn't worth it.

"Shit." He growled, hopping onto his bike regardless. Saving a sliver of hope that he'd find her tonight.

He wasn't exactly optimistic, though. Because she'd already stormed four blocks.

Isla wrapped her cardigan tightly around her body--feeling the cold a bit more than what Jax had earlier--and hastily made her way downtown.

Surprisingly enough, she didn't fear the short walk toward the garage, but it was chilling. The thought of Donna's killer roaming freely, parading around that neighborhood, was daunting.

But she wasn't scared.

Or, at least, Isla wasn't scared until she heeded the red and blue flashing lights right in the middle of the intersection. The apparent murder scene.

Her heart sank, actually. The organ dropped to her stomach, pulsating slowly--barely--at the sight of Charming PD, CSI, and her. The group scattered, conversing, and speculating.

It was horrible. Sick.

She'd seen this before. She'd seen deaths and murders, and whatever came during the moments following. But she hasn't felt this way before.

The incapacitating throb. The discomfort and grief for such a horrendous--albeit freak--accident. And she wasn't stupid. She was as cognizant as her father and as empathetic as Jax, and she knew just as well as those two that this was not a purposeful attack.

Whether it was a consequence of Mayan or Niner misconduct, it was a wrongful onslaught that was about to cull an entire family. An entire charter.

If it hadn't already, that was.

She choked around the swell in her throat, padding along the sidewalk. She took her time, but she wasn't slow by any means. She had a place to be, and a specific person that she had to see--to talk to because she didn't know how to cope with this.

And it wasn't exactly her place to mourn for Donna. She hadn't been involved with her for some five years and she felt bad about the pair unable to rekindle their friendship. She felt bad about grieving the loss of Opie's wife--about taking the focus away from him.

But it hurt. It hurt so much--it sliced deeply, through flesh and tendon and bone--and she knew that Tig wouldn't judge her for this inveterate sorrow. He wouldn't see her as selfish or stupid for wanting to project her sincerities, her emotions.

Her heels clicked across the yard and she smiled a little bit when she passed Juice and Tig's bikes beside one another, letting her know that she wasn't going to be alone in there.

She was scared now, though. Because she hadn't talked about this yet. Hadn't talked about how she felt and how she was going to approach Opie the next time she saw him.

"Juice?" Isla squeaked from the doorway, waiting for him to turn around and run to her, or something. But he didn't move, didn't lift his head.

It was dreary inside. The lights had been dimmed, the men surrounding the tables and bar were downtrodden, and Isla felt as though she'd just walked through the gates of hell.

The vibrancy and boisterous nature of SAMCRO had come to a complete standstill, and she was actually yearning for the sleaze that usually enveloped the space.

Her sigh was defeated, forlorn. She sniffed as her nose ran, making her way to the bathroom to go and clean herself up--because she knew that she looked dreadful, and didn't want anybody to really see her that way.

"Is anyone in here?" She asked softly against the locked door, knowing that the answer was yes and that Tig was the occupant--but she persisted, anyway.

The mellifluous rhythm bled through the oak, jolting him still as blood poured from the gash in his head, and shattered glass surrounded his frame and the sink.

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, glaring monotonously at himself in front of the mirror. Glaring at the fucking monster that was about to welcome Isla into open arms, comforting her because he knew that she'd need it.

"Yeah," He opened up, smiling down at her. "But I'm done, if you wanna--"

"What happened to you?" She put a hand against his chest, pushing him back into the room. Her brow furrowed when he didn't respond. "Tiggy?"

His entire body winced at Isla's soft touch. At the way her pink nails traced over the patch of skin on his chest, uncovered by his shirt--the shirt he was going to burn after tonight.

She gently gripped at his chin, turning his face to the right to get a better look at the incision on his left. Her eyes filled again, lips turned downward.

"Let me clean you up."

"You don't gotta--"

"I do." Isla cut him off, blinking away her tears. "If it doesn't get treated, it might get infected."

Like father, like daughter--always the first person to tend to an injury. She was so loving, so benevolent. Nothing like him, he thought.

Tig watched her maneuver around the tiny bathroom, admiring her desire to patch him up. To care for him and help make him feel better.

Not much would've helped at that moment, but she was trying her best.

"How'd you get over here?" He asked, leaning against the sink.

"I walked--"

"You walked?" Pissed, Tig spat. "Jesus fuck, Isla, you can't walk these parts alone, anymore."

She looked up at him from the spot she was crouched at, sifting through a small first-aid kit in the cabinet. "Who said I was alone?"

"Were you?" His eyes narrowed. She got to her feet, putting the small plastic box beside him, looking his face over a few times.

Her head shook. "Nope. Never alone with these thoughts."

Tig couldn't not chuckle at her response, but he was still worried about her. He didn't worry often--he was too selfish for that--but anything to do with his favorite blonde saw him panic like a madman.

"And the voices, too." She mused, breaking out into a genuine smile the first time all evening. "They always keep me real good company."

"Yeah?" Isla's head bobbed, cupping his chin again. "Me too--me 'n you don't seem to be too different after all, baby."

"Never said that we weren't." She poked her tongue out a little bit, surveying the damage. "Never said that we were the same, either."

"We're not the same." He confirmed, curling his hand around her wrist as she held an alcohol pad above his cut. "We are not the same, Isla."

Her head tilted, trying to discern what he meant. But she couldn't, and it caused an uncomfortable shiver to flicker down her spine.

"This might hurt." She whispered in an attempt to dissipate the small tension, gently running her thumb over his chin.

The other was--alongside her pointer finger--tapping the small antiseptic against the wound. She frowned the more he winced, though Tig's smile and hold on her wrist was still present.

"I like the pain."

"I know you do, Tiger." Isla joked. But she couldn't help wondering how the fuck he managed to do this to himself tonight.

Why he would do this to himself tonight.

"I don't wanna have to stitch your pretty face up," she pursed her lips and got him to hold the cotton in place.

"You think I got a pretty face?"

"The prettiest." Her retort was instantaneous, missing that usual glint of something resembling a joke.

She was serious--she wasn't engaging in that usual banter with him today. She was too run down for it, actually.

"Gonna have to give you a couple of butterfly stitches, if that's okay?" Isla looked up at him, holding out the small bandages with a smile. "It won't hurt. And they'll probably dissolve in, like, a week or so."

"Go for it. I love when you play nurse."

She lightly whacked at his chest, laughing as she got him to sit on the closed toilet lid to get a better reach. He wasn't tall, but neither was she. Isla needed him to lower his height if she wanted to successfully repair him.

The comfort, the aid and assistance had him forgetting about tonight--had her forgetting the real reason for her impromptu arrival to the clubhouse--but not forgetting about the newfound misery that encircled SAMCRO.

"You alright?" He asked when she hadn't made a movement, when her eyes seemed to focus on the shelves above the tank of the toilet. "I can do it myself, if you don't wanna--"

"I wanna." The smile she produced was fake--uncomfortable as tears rolled down perfectly blushed cheeks.

It broke his heart. Everything she was doing and saying--and even feeling because her pain was palpable--was breaking his heart and Tig felt like hell for doing this.

"I'm sorry," she stuck the first stitch to his forehead carefully, getting him to rip off the back of the second because her fingers were too shaky to get a solid grip.

"Don't be." He handed it to her. "It's been a tough night."

Her laugh was humorless, dull. "You can say that again, Tiggy."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." She sent him an apologetic look, but he got it.

Isla trusted him with her life--for some reason--but she found it hard to open up sometimes. In regards to something this serious, she struggled to get a solid handle on her emotions and how to express them.

He understood her, though. Understood her well enough, her mannerisms and thought processes, and he just wondered if she felt like divulging her pain tonight.

She didn't, though. And Tig didn't particularly mind that. He didn't want to feel that twisted pang of regret, the vehement churn of his stomach whenever she said Donna's name--which she was yet to do, and she probably wouldn't at this point, either.

"I just wanna cry." She stated plainly, not even reluctantly anymore.

Like Gemma, he hadn't seen her cry for a long time. And it wasn't a nice visual, actually.

But he was supportive, and just wanted her to do anything that'd make her feel somewhat better--so he encouraged it.

Isla put everything down, gave his face the once over for the last time, and set herself on the tile with her back to the door.

"You wanna cry? Do it, baby. If it'll help, just do it." He assured, getting to the ground beside her. "I know you don't like doin' it in front of me, but I won't tell anyone, if that's what you want."

"You make me seem like a battle ax." Isla quipped, sniffling. "I don't care if anyone sees me cry--everyone knows that I do. It's just..."

"Showing vulnerability ain't a nice thought. I know."

God. She hated how well he understood her. How he knew what she was going to fucking say. All the time.

Tig wound an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Instinctively, she rested her head against his shoulder.

"I get it." He stated mindlessly, pushing tousled blonde strands from her forehead. "But y'know you can always trust me, kid. I'll never tell anyone that you feel emotions--"

"I'm literally the most emotional person you all know." Isla protested weakly, hoping he didn't mind the feeling of her tears bleeding through his shirt.

He didn't.

"I just don't really like crying. It's not a true testament to my character--I'm supposed to be the happy one around these parts. The sickeningly optimistic Irish girl--"

"You can still be a crier, too."

"I know." She finally wrapped her arms around his middle as they sat together. "But people just don't take girls seriously when they cry. And I don't want my position here to be compromised, I guess. I don't want my dad, or Gemma, or Clay to think I can't handle being around the club anymore--because I can. And I always will."

"They wouldn't think different of you for that." He promised, rubbing circles over her shoulder the more he felt the navy cotton dampen. "This is a real tough thing, Isla, nobody is gonna chastise you for shedding a tear. They'd probably think different of you if you didn't cry."

"You think?"

He nodded.

"Crying shows that you got empathy and a heart. We all know your heart is bigger than..." Thick eyebrows crumpled together before he let out a little chuckle. "Bigger than Clay's ego. It's huge, your heart."

"Well, it's gotta be. If I wanna love all of you--warts 'n all--my heart has gotta be huge."

"Exactly," he drew out his response, earning a laugh and something reminiscent of an optimistic smile from her.

Trager never saw himself as the kind of man to make a girl smile or laugh after a little pep talk--after or before incredible sex, perhaps, but never as a result of his unusually comforting nature.

But he just had that effect on Isla--something she wasn't able to extrapolate verbally. Something she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to comprehend, either.

"You've just gotta try not to make yourself too vulnerable, that's all, 'cuz people will get used to coddling you. And I know that's now what you want."

"That's what I mean." She frowned, pulling herself away a bit. "I don't wanna be seen as inferior for being able to cry about the things that you, or Gem, or dad, are able to keep a poker face over. I'm just...I'm just thin-skinned sometimes, and I'm yet to be desensitized to this stuff, I guess."

"You're not thin-skinned for crying tonight." He scolded, knowing that she didn't want to elucidate her thoughts about the happening, but he just couldn't help himself.

"Desensitization don't mean shit when you've lost someone you care about--it's always gonna hurt, sweetheart. Always. And there ain't nothing you can do to stop that."

He was the one with misty eyes, now. He was the one trying to bite back tears, trying to conceal the spread of his sadness--the uncomfortable soreness in his chest. In his heart that wasn't anywhere near as big and full as hers.

"You're never gonna grow immune to grief--I promise you'll always feel that. Whether you show it--how you show it--is another thing, though."

"You feel it?"

"Tonight?"

"In general."

She couldn't seem to recall the last time that she saw him cry--if she'd ever seen it, actually. Aside from this moment, of course.

Tears fell to the apples of his cheeks and she, without any reluctance, used the pad of her thumb to brush them away.

And he got it, now. The idea of showing vulnerability being a fucking liability. Because the pity washing over her soft, beautiful features made him feel fragile.

"All the time. All the fuckin' time."

"It really never goes away?"

"No." Tig sniffed harshly, forcing a smile. "But you learn to cope. You learn that it ain't the end of the world and that life just goes on after death."

"Profound." She chuckled once again. "That's some deep, deep shit, Tigger. Almost made me forget about how much I wanna hysterically break down."

"Do it. That'll make me feel better about my injury."

"Your self-inflicted injury." Isla stated knowingly, but she didn't clarify just what she meant.

Because it could've been an array of things, but he liked to think that she was just referring to his little forehead aperture.

"I like it. It makes you look badass." Isla held a hand out to Tig when he pulled himself upward, and she wanted to follow suit.

"Does it make me look hot, too?"

"Absolutely." Again, it wasn't laced in a tease. It was honest, and the small smile she produced was sincere. "Be careful with it, though. Try not to get it wet or anything, because it'll dissolve too soon--"

"I've had them before, y'know?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Isla rolled her eyes. "You're a super scary, malicious, calculating guy when you've gotta be. But I know that you're accident prone."

He curled his eyebrow upward. "Scary?"

"Totally. I've seen you hold a gun to a guy's head." A chill impaired her, frightening her. "Shits terrifying, Tig. Remind me to never get on your bad side."

"You couldn't even if you tried."

"You think?" Her qualm was unexpected, almost challenging him as she unlocked the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway. "I think I could."

What's she playing at? She was sobbing two minutes ago.

Oh, I get it. This is her facade--actin' all care free, and shit.

Tig followed behind--every step--as she clicked along the wooden floor of the clubhouse.

"You couldn't. Trust me." He stated lowly, reaching for her hand when she stuttered a little.

Isla noticed her father next time Juice, drinking at the bar with their backs to the duo. She didn't want to see him, right now.

Talking to Chibs would've ignited whatever fucking fire inside of her that'd started to blaze out of control earlier tonight, and she'd worked hard to contain this inferno.

"What you can do, though, is turn your pretty little ass back around, and go get some rest in the dorm. It's been a long night."

She didn't refute, she didn't try to get out of it because she didn't want to. Isla couldn't bear the thought of waltzing past her father, talking to him about her tiny outburst, and resuming as normal.

Because she couldn't do that. Not tonight, anyway.

"Tig?"

"Uh huh." He responded, his eyes glued to the back of Juice's cut as he slammed yet another shot back.

Probably wondering what the fuck had gone down tonight.

"Can you stay with me?" Her retort forced his focus to land on her, and the defenselessness--sheer exposure--in her attitude.

It wasn't the simple fact of wanting to be alone.

She couldn't be alone. Not anymore.

Ringed fingers squeezed her hand reassuringly, guiding her into the back room, holding her close. Because that's what she really, truly wanted.

"'Course I can. Anything for you, Isla."

#tig trager #tig trager x oc #tig trager fic #tig trager fanfiction #sons of anarchy fic #jax teller #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller x oc #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fandom #sons of anarchy fanfiction

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foxanonforneon · 3 years

Text

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I made the story with just two random lighthouse operators and @neonthewrite 's character, Chase. I used the picture above as a prompt.

Please have a good read. Likes and reblogs are appreciated!! :>

Warning: This contains catboy, fearplay, angst, mention of eating people/hard vore, and dehumanization of a person.

If you are uncomfortable with any of these things mentioned, you may pass this now.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Viewer Discretion is Advised.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is that time of night again, where the seaside is calm and the night is dark as burnt charcoal, with pretty stars in the sky as if it were an artist's canvas.

The seaside playing Mother Nature's music playing for anyone willing to listen was interrupted by two forms, one with a gruff exterior with a purpose in his stride, the other timidly but quickly following close behind the older man.

The two of them came out here for a purpose, the purpose needed and only could be done in the cylindrical, white tall building near the shore of the coast.

"S-Sir, are the rumours true?" the new operator's voice quivered as he got his query out. The voice soft enough that it could be mistaken for the wind.

"What?" the older man huffed with a sharp raspy voice, looked sceptically at the newcomer with a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

"I dunno what yer' talking 'bout boy, once we get to the top o' this place," he waved his hand lazily to the lighthouse, "ye' can tell me what ya mean." The operator looked at the newcomer expectantly as he presumed to walk to his desired destination.

As the younger of the two was unparalysed from the uneven gravel, both of the occupants in the vicinity felt a slight vibration from under their feet. It was barely noticeable as they stepped foot into the building.

As the seasoned lighthouse operator took his time up the winding stairs, the newcomer felt, off. Like the lighthouse suddenly dropped in temperature. Uneasy. Darker than usual in the room containing the giant flashlight. He felt a pit in his stomach with a mix of butterflies, a different contrast to the older operator, who seemed to be at ease.

As the top of the lighthouse drew closer in the operators' eye line, the newcomer felt tremors and heard the gravel underneath but brushed it off as someone having a late night dip and kept it in mind to question why were their steps so heavy, it when he calmed down and got settled.

Unfortunately, those thoughts vanished as he watched in astonishment as the elderly man took the two foldable chairs from the flashlight and plopped them down in front of it, near its sides, at an age that that would be a problem to do at that speed.

As they settled into their seats, the tremors and crunch of gravel came to a steady halt. The older man then stared at the younger one intently and curiously as to proceed with his queries.

The younger took this as his cue to speak. "Sir, did you not hear the rumors about the monster, that creeps around these parts, of the coast at this time of night?" the newcomer spoke as he looked around skitishly.

His posture hunched over fearfully as it looked like his spine was about to jump out of his skin. The older man took the information he was given into consideration. He stared at the flashlight, moonlit enough to make out its shape, as he hummed in deep thought.

"No, I don' recall any rumors 'bout a monster round these parts, guess ya coul' describe it fer me?" the older operator gestured softly to the other, so they could calm their own nerves. He leaned back and loosely crossed his arms as to indicate that he was all ears.

"I-I heard that it has very dark fur, from w-what I heard from some p-people, they say b-black or dark gray. They s-say that the monster has teeth longer than the tallest h-human being and it has claws that can reduce trees to nothing but a pile of sawdust! Very few people say it has the eyes of an apex predator!" The younger operator explained fearfully, his body quaking from fear.

"And? Do ya know wha' it does or eat fer that matter, if you want ta keep explainin'?" The seasoned operator asked as he gently cupped the newcomer's palms in his own to aid his worries about this 'monster'.

"I-I've also h-heard that it goes a-around looking for p-people that are by th-themselves and it-" the young operator quickly stopped and stared as the other got up quickly with a huff.

"You continue talkin'. I'm listenin', am jus' gonna operate these lights an' make sure people git home safely." He said as he quickly glanced back at the young operator, as he strode over to the back of the huge flashlight. "Ye might wanna wear t'e sun glass, y'er...whatever t'ey called." He said trying to identify the object with a hint of annoyance. Again, the unknown tremors started but weren't heavy enough to notice from the top of the tower.

"Oh, yeah, as I-I was saying, it m-maybe kidnaps the people t-that are by themselves, s-since I haven't seen those people a-again and the only way to get to the next t-town is by c-car or bus, some of the people gone, don't have enough money f-for that, or maybe it eat-" The younger of the two snapped his mouth shut as he covered his ears shut, a reflexive motion, from the loud ringing in his ears.

What he didn't expect, was that the seasoned operator had a cross and annoyed look on his face. His pale skin allowing his emotions to be seen in the glowing moonlight. What he really didn't expect, was the monster chasing the bright beam of light, and mostly likely causing the source of the tremors before and now, like a kitten.

As the monster continued to chase the light around like a cat on catnip, an idea popped into the young operator's head. He rushed over to the giant flashlight, shoving the seasoned operator away as gently as he could, as he used his strength to turn the beam of light towards the ocean of the cliff side.

As the older man was about to bark out an order to stop turning the flashlight, it was already too late as the blur of fur(presumed as the monster) fell off of the cliff and into the freezing ocean with a loud yowl of distress, followed by a splash, which sounded closer to cat more than anything. Making sure there was no movement from the over the cliff side, the young man turned to check on the other operator. "See sir! That was the monster I was talking about from the rumors, it is real...Holy shit, it's actually real and I stopped it!" Assuming the monster didn't know how to swim, why would it? There's plenty of people to eat on land!

He then quickly turned off the flashlight to make sure the beast didn't find its way back to land. Who knows how much damage to the nearby village it can cause.

When he held out his hand out to the shaken officer to give him a lift. Otherwise, the seasoned one didn't seem too pleased with what he had done.

"Sir...Di-d I do something wrong??" As the young operator checked over the experienced other, looking for any outward signs of damage. The younger one of the two, energy drained from a chain broken from his schedule, looked as if he were to pass out, adrenaline looking as if keeping them from doing just that.

The gruff operator took the hand's invitation, steadily but not in a way that was anything but pleased.

"No, not really." He quickly huffed as he took to a stand. "Then, sir, what have you gotten your mind? I also need to ask out of curiosity, do you have a cat or is there any in vicinity? I haven't seen any coming all the way out here." The newcomer asked pure curiosity and a sheepish smile appearing on his face. If observed carefully in the moonlight, the older man could barely make out a faint tint of pink, in the moonlight, on the other's cheek. He's embarrassed.

If the other saw his face completely, he didn't mention it.

Meanwhile faint splashes and rumbles came from the direction of the ocean as the gruff man began to answer the other's question. "Nothin', just," he paused as he turned to the direction of where the gigantic being pounced off, the scene replaying in his mind. Then derailing his train of thought, he resumed, "that damn cat is back, but no, there isn't a cat 'round here, a' least one that I know o'." He stormed off in annoyance towards to the flashlight as to get it on again with the scowl on his face directed at no one.

The younger operator gaped at the other in complete confusion and bewilderment. If there is a cat that returned, why would he go ahead and tell me there isn't one right after? "T-then sir! How is there a cat when their isn't one??? I-I don't.." he trailed off but quickly spoke up again with a high pitched squeak, "What, does he get into the garbage cans?" As he got out his question, his posture quickly changing from one of fear to uncertainty so quickly that if you blinked, you would of missed it.

The distant tremors were getting closer now, and if focused intently, they felt and sounded like footsteps. After some time, the pace slowed to a halt. As that noise stopped, another started, which could be identified as someone pawing a tuft of grass. With the sound and surface known, there must be a place where it is identified, which directs the younger operator's eyes to where the beast threw itself off.

"I'm afraid not, but aye, keep watchin' the cliff fer the cat to climb back up, I'm gonna try fix this thing." The older man barked the command as he tried getting the flashlight back on.

"What am I supposed to be watching for, si-" Before he got the question, awe and shock kept him shut and began to override his thoughts as he's trying to process what he's seeing.

The claw of the monster, dug into the dirt of the cliff and pulled itself up. Following after the first claw, was another which pulled what seemed like a head of soaked, black hair with black cat ears on top to match.

A deafening whine and deep growl slightly shook the lighthouse to its core, as the rest of the beast tried pulling itself unto the cliff.

The operator had time to process that the beast had clothes. So far, a red jacket with a gray shirt underneath, reflecting as much light as the moon allowed. Apparently, the seemingly intelligent beast, moved faster than the operator had expected from such a large being, that when it moved, his brain was trying to figure out what the blur of fur was, not if it had any human emotions of its own. His eyes widened as he saw the beast express human emotion through the growls it was making, like it was talking to itself. Frustrated. Distressed.

If the operator could open his eyes any wider, they might fall out of their sockets, as he stared in awe as more parts of the beast rose over the cliff's side. The beast looked so, humane yet the young man's mind couldn't comprehend that the beast, itself, is absolutely massive. Trying to take in details of this being all at once while it's crawling on all fours, while quickly coming closer, getting away from the edge, and flashing the water off like a dog trying its best to get dry, isn't working.

About one hundred meters from the lighthouse's base, the seasoned operator kicked the giant flashlight once more, this time turning the light on, snapping the awestruck operator out of his trance, while directing the beam unto the beast which shielded its eyes from the sudden brightness that laid upon it while it let out a whine and quickly shielded its eyes.

The flashlight shining its brightest, clearly showed what or who the young operator was looking at. "You're posed be watchin' fer the cat." The seasoned operator spoke, words slicing through the silence like a sharpened knife, as if the silence itself were butter. The other operator lightly flinched at the words spoken out of the other's mouth as he turned around to acknowledge his presence.

Noticing how calm the older man was about the monster in the vicinity, he gave the man a puzzled and skeptical look as for the man to explain himself.

The gruff man sighed, as he saw the look on the other's face, like he's been caught stealing a pie from a kitchen window and forced to apologise. Taking slow steps to inch his way beside the younger man, the older started to explain his calm attitude towards the titan so close to the lighthouse. "NOPE, as you can see, there is no cat and I know fer sure, that there is no monster nei'er. I know fer sho' that that manegy bein' on the other side of this lighthouse, ain't eaten' a single person nor has tried to, since I'm here."

As the seasoned operator paused to think, he looked at the young operator who looked to have a face that didn't show any emotion, just a blank stare.

The beast movement caught the operator's eye in the bright beam the flashlight seemed to cause. At least now the young man could make out what the beast looked like.

Curled up on the ground, the beast seemed to have a humane figure of a short, skinny man, if put at the right scale, would be smaller than his five foot, six inch frame. The beast itself slowly unfurled itself, keeping its eyes shielded and squinting towards the beam directed towards it. That didn't stop the young operator from picking up its features he hadn't seen yet.

Like its dark gray sclera around its pupil as it-...he's trying to adjust his eyes to the sudden brightness. The beast's olive sun kissed skin, appeared to have a silky texture other than a few healing bruises visible on its body. The rest of the articles, of clothing, seemed to replicate a pair of black boxers fitting snugly around his waist and upper thighs.

As he saw before a loose, gray shirt underneath a thin, dark red sweater, reaching from the collarbone of his neck to the bottom of his waistline, covering his unmentionables. At last, the darkest but most outstanding feature of this beast was his soaked, fluffy, black tail, which seemed to convey the some emotion on this beast's face.

As those details got into the young operator's head, the beast let out a tiny(for its size), sneeze which, still shook the lighthouse. Recovering from the quick but sudden noise he made, he got on all fours as he crawled over as slowly as he could, while keeping his eye on both of the operators, intent not to scare them, especially the younger one out of the two.

Once he got close as he dared, he slowly sat on his knees to stare back at the people who watched him with awe and ease. Both at eye level, staring hesitantly, as if waiting for him to do something. Hesitantly, he returned the stare, with a look of curiosity for the newcomer then looked at the seasoned operator questioningly as if he would tell him about this new person staring at him and why he's there.

This new person quickly looked to the gigantic one staring at him curiously then to the other operator who looked slightly annoyed at the titan outside, yet the man looked so at ease.

"Hey! Quit scaring all the new workers away! We've got business to do at this time o' night!" The older operator scolded the titan as if it were a small toddler. The only thing keeping both of them separated, is the movable, giant glass screen in front of them and the beast holding back its unimaginable strength. Surprisingly, the beast didn't make any move of hostility towards the building, but he let out a low whine and a look of shame as if he didn't know his presence should have people gone running with a glimpse of his shadow.

"S-Sir, what does i- he want??" The young operator stuttered out his question in fear as the beast turned his eyes to observe his quivering frame with, corcern?

"I think he wants ya ta r'deem yer self innocent. Or somethin', I don't know.." The seasoned operator said with a light teasing in his tone as he gently pushed the new operator to the window. As the young operator got close enough to window without getting hit, the older man opened the window, pulling it from the inside, a gentle night's breeze flowing in.

The young operator glanced back at the gruff man with worry, showing clearly on his face, as he turned back to the beast watching him outside. Taking his time, he got to the edge of the open window making sure the beast didn't do, something...terrifyingly, horrendous. Instead, he was just watching the man inch forward, carefully wary of him, with curiosity and excitement.

As the frightened operator leaned out far enough to see over the beast's cat ears, his stomach dropped. He realized too late that he was being lifted up by bigger than some tree trunk sized, fingers. Which were surprisingly gentle and barely put any pressure on his back, and his waist. It wasn't as painful he thought it would be in the beast's pinched grip, he didn't leave any bruises on the his body as was he gently placed him in the middle of his cupped palm, not realising he was shrieking the whole time, until his feet touched the warm but soft surface.

Which he gradually stopped, as he tried to focus on the white noise in his head. Trying to focus on a certain noise, he turned his head to the lighthouse, presumably, where it was coming from. Looking down at the window where was at mere seconds ago, the seasoned operator was firmly waving his arm at the beast and commanded him to give the young operator back to him, but the beast deliberately ignored him to focus on the young operator in his hand.

As he mentally noted that, he tried to figure the other sound out. It not only came from underneath him, but it enveloped the entire direction his backside was facing. He quickly spun to face the direction of the sound to confirm his theory, which was correct. The noise came from the beast's throat and vibrated through its whole body, which was identified as a loud purr.

Once identifying the sound and its source, the operator's head hung from vertigo of the sudden ascent from the beast's midsection to his face. Identifying his transportation's sudden break, the operator begged, with tears in his eyes, to the beast to not put him in his dark, humid cavern, presumably his huge mouth.

Upon hearing the pleas, begs and cries, the beast let out a sharp chirp of surprise and a high pitched whine of guilt, tears almost forming at the corner of his eyes, his thoughts playing on repeat on what people thought he was, a mindless beast. A freak. A feral man-eater. A monster. He quickly brushed those thoughts away in hope of trying to calm the weeping, shaking mess of the man, that's still begging for his life, in the centre of his palm. On impulse, he quickly brought his hands to his cheek, trying to hug the operator long enough for him to calm down.

The seasoned operator kept an eye on the beast with baited breath, watching to make sure the newcomer was unharmed in the titan's clutches.

Maybe the beast was toying with him when he started purring again, but the young operator wasn't wet nor fighting for his life against a giant muscle, so he took it as a good sign to open his eyes and maybe calm down. His bloodshot red eyes cracked open, glancing around trying to identify the pitch black area with only a few beams of moonlight coming from above loose fingers. He then spread out his arms in front of him, hands being met with the resistance of skin, pushing and kneading into the unknown area of flesh in front of him.

After pushing it for sometime, the beast's pulled his hand away to bring it back down to the lighthouse's window, where the gruff operator patiently waited for his return. Halfway there, he hesitated. He then quickly brought up his hand up to bridge of nose, to, by the looks of it, nuzzle the operator in the form of an apology.

The operator seeing the beast's ears flattened on his head with the heavy regret and guilt in his eyes, was taken back how he made a titan, a being with immeasurable power, more than enough to destroy cities and end people's lives, if he wanted, apologise(without speaking) for nearly scaring him to death.

After he got his bearings together, the beast saw this and briskly put the young man back into the room, but not before giving him a sloppy, gentle lick on his side, spiking the side of his hair into the air being held by nothing but, much thicker than usual saliva.

The seasoned operator took the other into his arms, bridal style, relieved that the beast outside didn't do any lasting damage to the person sitting limply in his arms. He looked into the operator's eyes but all he could see, was no emotion. Just a blank stare off to who knows where. "Tha' was quite scary, wasn' it?" the older man asked, snapping the other out of whatever thoughts he had. He wouldn't admit it to himself but, he'd almost passed out from when those giant, gray eyes first landed on him, and the only thing keeping him awake at that time, was awestruck adrenaline.

"Yes, sir, that was, terrifying but, also, exciting, to say the least." The young man admitted, shock on his face, directed at no one. He had time to process the rollercoaster of the events that just happened to him in the span of under half an hour.

The seasoned operator walked back over to the unlit flashlight preparing himself to have a hard time turning it back on again.

While all of this is happening inside of the lighthouse, the rumbles of kneefall, were coming from the beast skirting around to get the back of the lighthouse. Most likely to get out of the workers' hair, metaphorically.

Once the young operator got up to help the seasoned one to help to get to back to work, the beast idly watched them to make sure it worked. Not for that reason only, but also to reassure himself that the younger operator is okay, keeping in mind that he caused enough trouble for himself, and he would leave when the two workers got the flashlight on.

Within seconds, it did.

So with a couple rumbles in the earth, he pushed himself to a steady stand to get himself ready to go back home. What he didn't expect, was the young operator shouting a "Hey!" at him so suddenly, it was enough for him to flinch. Whipping his head to the direction of the top of the lighthouse tower, his eye fell upto the operator with the older one in tow. Seeing this for himself, he slightly turned to have a better view, letting out a quiet chirp of question and surprise to the one addressing him.

"Uhhhhhh," the younger operator bowed his head as he got the beast's full attention, "you don't have to leave if you don't have a place to stay. You can stay here, please don't leave here forever because of me!" The younger man projected as he looked up to see shock on the beast's face in the dim moonlight.

"Do you have a home?" the younger operator asked, voice watery, scared of the answer he might receive. To his relief, the beast nodded and gave a chirp of approval but went ahead to take a quick step away, thinking that he's overstaying his arrival. Before the young man could get out of the beast's vision, he shoved a hand at the beast in the form of a handshake.

Before realising how stupid the action looked, the beast came over, slowly crouched behind the lighthouse and gently took more than half of the arm between his thumb and index finger, making sure to not add any pressure to the limbs between them. The beast appreciating the gesture nonetheless, purred the whole time, content that the operator gave him a second chance and even wanted him to stay.

As the beast let go of the arm, he gave out another short purr as he turned and left to go wherever home was. The young operator watched him go until he was just another shadow in the dark sky.

He couldn't wait until he came again because he the only monstrous thing about the legend's beast, was only his size.

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The End

@neonthebright

@nightmares06

@borrowedtimeandspace

#sfw g/t #g/t community #g/t fluff #size extremes #giant/tiny #g/t angst #g/t #giant male #giant catboy #chase lisong #giant cat boy #giant catboy!chase

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spookysmujer · 4 years

Text

Mi Hombre, O. Diaz

Summary: You overhear Monse trash talking about Oscar and you’ve had enough of him being painted as the villain.

warnings: monse being a hater!, cute s h e t, freak s h e t 👅

word counter: 1.5K

requested by: @un-poetryy

A/N: I always give the “bad” guys the benefit of the doubt because my attraction to toxic men began with Damon Salvatore LOL. Thank you for requesting, I love trying new things when writing for Spooky, this was fun! SEND ME ASKS/REQUESTS! I finally turned on the Anon option, heh. And don’t forget, please: follow, heart it and leave some comments, reblog and also turn on the notifs for when I post! Lots of love!!

taglist: @clemmingstylins0n @fairygardenss @firebenderwolf @spookysnena @princesstiffxoxo @mbaku-babygirl @chellybear98 @multiyfandomgirl40 @i-just-wanna-live-gc (please let me know if you wanna be added or removed!)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, owner unknown!)

The sun is warm against your skin and the slight breeze is adding to a perfect summer day. Now that school is out, the public pool has extended it’s days of operations and hours, so here you are out with you boyfriend’s little brother and friends, tanning and having a relaxing day.

Oscar called you saying to meet him at the pool since he’s really trying to avoid spending any alone time at home with his estranged father. As you await his arrival, you’re laying back and letting the sun fill in the paler parts of your skin due to your bikini straps. And it’s been lovely but you’re starting to lose you’re patience as Monse, Cesar’s toxic ass girlfriend, keeps talking ill about Oscar.

You sigh once more as you try to zero out on the things she is saying about him but it’s getting real hard to bite your tongue the more she goes on. It’s Oscar “Spooky” Diaz and of course everyone has an opinions about everyone. And rightfully so but Monse only says bad things about her boyfriend’s older brother. Every single time it’s something negative. And granted you don’t spend much time with her, it’s sad that she can’t say one good thing.

It’s also when Oscar is never around and the devil is prying to get out of you to say something. Oh, please say something. But you keep your eyes closed and pray that your boyfriend arrives soon. The last thing you want is to cause a scene in a family area.

“I mean he’s been hanging around a lot and it’s just annoying he gotta bring his gang tendencies when it’s been clear as day you don’t want nothing to do with it. Doesn’t he have drugs to sell? or other people to jump into the gang?” Monse says and you huff audibly.

Though you got your eyes closed, you could feel her gaze move to you briefly.

Cesar only sighs as Monse kept on going and that was the tip of the iceberg for you. How can Cesar not defend is older brother? You know the shit the Diaz brothers have been through but to not defend someone who has defended you on countless occasions?

“Seriously? You really going keep talking shit, Monse? I’m convinced you’re obsessed with Oscar since all you ever do is talk about him,” You’ve had enough, you get up and say to her as you stand above them,

Both she and Cesar look up at you, surprised. “I-I, uh, was just saying th-”

“No, you weren’t just fucking saying nothing. You’re trash talking his brother and my boyfriend and it’s shit on me to have waited this long to say something but you’re such a pussy for only knowing how to talk smack when he’s not around.”

She tilts her head to the side and stands to cross her arms over her chest, “I have no problem saying this to his face as well. He must have you whipped if you are too blind to see that all he is is trouble, Y/N. You’re a smart girl, you deserve someone better than Oscar.”

If you could see the world in a single color right now, it’d be red and for Monse it’s about to be black considering you want to pop her one right in the mouth. You’re at a disbelief that she can’t give Oscar the benefit of the doubt considering he has done a lot for his brother and group of friends. Everytime there had been an issue that they couldn’t solve, which was 99.9% of the time, Oscar came in with the save.

You see your boyfriend walk through the gated entrance of the public pool. He makes his way over to the food stand and you smile to yourself, the sight of him always making you melt, “ I am a smart girl, thank you. I’m smart enough to know that no one in this world is perfect. We all have flaws, Oscar knows it too. But you’re quick to forget that if it weren’t for him, you all would probably be 6 feet under next to Lil Ricky, who isn’t even 6 feet under might I add!”

She laughs a little to herself before continuing, “And we wouldn’t have gotten in those situations had Oscar not jumped his little brother into that stupid gang of wannabes anyways! Who does that? Forces his own family into something he didn’t want to be apart of? That’s messed up! And you the complicit one that stands by not saying anything!” Monse says loudly, now catching the attention of those around you. Even Oscar is now looking your way, you and Monse in each other’s faces.

You weren’t planning to make a big scene about this, you just wanted to call her out on her bullshit peacefully, if that is even possible. But if the shoe fits? You lace that bitch up and wear it.

You scoff and step closer to her face, “Cesar grew up in this life, wake the fuck up, Monse! It looks like a duck, it quacks like a duck, it’s a fucking duck! Think this lil duckling was gonna join the rabbit family and live a peaceful life? That is how the world revolves, that is how people like us survive. Whether you like it or not. Yes, it is messed up. And I can promise you, Oscar never wanted this life to begin with, not for him and definitely not for his brother, whom he raised. Was it a perfect life? No. But it was and still is enough.

“So I swear to God, if you can’t say anything nice please shut the fuck up. Don’t say shit. Because if you wanna point out flaws, let’s all do it, hm? Gather around family and friends, “ You look around and say, “We’re gonna play the What’s wrong with Monse game I’ll start, she’s toxic as fuck! She loves to play the victim, she’s dating a freshly jumped in Santo, which she claims are wannabe gangsters!”

Everyone’s attention is on you now, Oscar is trying his best not to laugh at the situation but when you get argumentative, it’s a damn good time. You have valid points and Monse knows it. The people with the most problems never like to admit them. She has a look of embarrassment plastered on her face.

“Y/N...” Cesar speaks up, also with a look of embarrassment on his face. He scratches the back of his head as he looks around and spots his brother in the distant. Oscar raises his water bottle in the air as a notion of, Salud.

You cross your arms and wait for him to say something but he only looks down at his feet and rocks on his heels. Monse’s mouth agape at his lack of input, “What’s wrong? You upset he’s not defending you? That’s how complicit ones are, sweetheart. They see the problem and let it go on so long as it’s not personally affecting them. Which means you probably just a piece of culo. And also means he’s a little puto for not defending his brother. A little bitch! Both of you!”

“Hey, hey mamas. Calmate, com’n. Let’s go get some food, hm?” Oscar appears and starts to pull you away as you spew out the last of your words. He can feel your skin is warm to the touch and it is not from the tanning either.

He is smiling like a fool once you two make your way to the stand, “Wow, my lady defends my name even when I’m not around.”

You shake your head and cross you arms, exhaling a much needed breath through your nose. Monse is collecting her things, angrily and storming out to the parking lot. A frantic Cesar following, you look back to Oscar and both laugh.

“Was I too harsh?” You ask him, he shakes his head in disagreement.

“Nah, bout time someone tells her off and you did just that. It’s hot, y’know? Calling them out for talking shit.” You look to him and whack your arm on his stomach, he wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of you head. “What else would my lil traviesa do for me?”

As you tip your head back to answer, Jasmine walks towards the two of you blasting music from her phone.

I don’t wanna spit, I wanna gulp

I wanna gag, I wanna choke

I want you to touch that lil dangly dang that swang in the back of my throat

You look to Oscar and wink at him, feeling the hardness in his swim trunks as you lick your lips. He clears his throat looking at Jasmine that means to leave. She snobs you two and walks off.

“Aye, you gotta walk in front me. He won’t let up.” You look between the two of you and see his boner. Laughing away, you let him trail very close behind you.

#Oscar Diaz #oscar spooky diaz #oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz x you #oscar diaz x y/n #spooky diaz x reader #spooky imagine #spooky diaz x y/n #spooky diaz x you #spooky x you #spooky x y/n #spookysmujer #on my block #on my block imagine #omb #netflix on my block

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hellimagines · 4 years

Text

Indebted to You -- Barry OBX

Masterlist

Summary: As JJ Maybank’s older sister it’s always been your top priority to protect your little brother. Even if that means easing your father’s temper by indebting yourself to Outerbanks’ top dealer.

Warnings: child abuse, frequent dr*g mention and dr*g dealing (of the non-oui’d variety), paying off someone else’s debt non-conventionally

Pairing: Barry x fem!Maybank!reader

Word Count: 2.4K

DISCLAIMER: Please, for the love of fuck, DO NOT do hard dr*gs just because you think they’re ‘cool’ or because you think dating a dealer is ‘cool’. Believe me when I tell you that neither of those things are cool, and that is NOT what I am trying to get across with this story; I don’t condone hard dr*g use.

A/N: This is something I pulled out of my ass because I wanted to write for Barry really bad, but I didn’t have any ideas. It has potential but I’m not sure if it’s gonna go anywhere. Also, Barry may be a little OOC since we don’t get much from his character. Anyway, I hope you guys like this and let me know what you think!

You released a slow, aggravated huff while staring down at your drunken father. He sat hunched over on the couch, with his elbows digging into his knees and his gaze trained on the coffee table before him. Behind you, your younger brother was curled into an armchair with a frozen bag of expired peas pressed against his left eye and a bloody tissue under his nose. You yourself had a welt already throbbing and beginning to swell on your cheekbone, but you ignored it in favor of kicking your dad’s limp foot. His head shot up, neck cracking with the unexpected speed, and narrowed his eyes at you dangerously.

“You had some nerve steppin’ in on something that wasn’t your business. What’ve I told you ‘bout stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong?” he snarled while attempting to stand, but was pathetically unsuccessful due to his inebriated state. All he managed to do was stumble and fall back down on the couch with a grunt.

You rolled your eyes, “And what’ve I told you about mixing your whiskey and blow? I already have your grave dug outback, and the sooner you keep this shit going, the sooner I get to toss your ass inside it.” Luke scoffed at your words but didn’t offer a rebuttal as he flexed his bloody knuckles. “JJ didn’t touch the fucking money-- I’ve been keeping ahold of it so nothing goes missing before I head to Barry’s. You’d remember that if you weren’t fucking high or drunk all the time. JJ’s got his own job and is making his own money, he doesn’t need to jack your rolled bills for anything.”

You pulled out a wad of recently-flattened bills, shaking the cash in front of your dad’s face. It was roughly $600 that you had made the past weekend while bouncing from Kook party to Kook party. Luke’s eyes widened at the sight of the money and he instinctively reached out to grab it from you. Your arm jerked back and you clutched the wad tightly before shoving it back into the pocket of your leather jacket.

With a shake of your head, you looked over your shoulder and gave your brother a once over, nodding to yourself after assessing he wouldn’t be dropping dead anytime soon. “Why don’t you go to JB’s? I’ve got shit handled here and I heard the waves were supposed to be good before the sun sets.”

“You sure? I can go with you-”

“Over my dead body. I got involved in this so you didn’t have to. Scram, before I change my mind and make you clean the kitchen.” JJ frowned but did as he was told, depositing the peas back in the freezer before making his way out the front door. You turned back to your dad, who was now laying on the couch with an arm thrown over his face. “I don’t have many more runs to do before we’re out of this shit-eating debt you caused with Barry. Keep your paws off the cash and we won’t have any problems, okay? You can’t fuck this up before I manage to fix it. Please, dad,” you whispered pleadingly and lowered yourself to the edge of the coffee table.

Your dad peeked open an eye at you before laughing darkly. “You’re running the game, princess. The streets know you, but even worse, those rich Kooks know you and know what you have to offer. That won’t be forgotten, especially with how good you’ve been running that shit. You’re not gonna be getting out anytime soon, so what’s it matter if a couple twenties go missin’ or a gram gets cut on our table? Don’t piss Barry off and don’t get caught by the cops, and you’ll be set for life.”

“No, I’m not like you,” you growled as your lip curled into a sneer. “I don’t wanna keep dealing and end up bitter and angry and alone, like you. Once I’m finished working off your debt, I’m done.”

Luke shot up from the couch in the blink of an eye, towering over you while gripping your jaw tightly. You could feel his fingers painfully digging into your skin, pressing against your teeth, and making you wince. “Doesn’t matter what you fucking want. This isn’t your world, princess. Once people know who’s moving product in the streets, you’re stuck. So you may as well embrace the Maybank name and take what you can while you can. Now, be a good girl and go make daddy proud,” he hissed in your ear, before roughly letting go of your jaw by flinging your head to the side. You teetered off the edge of the table and fell to your side on the floor, but Luke didn’t spare you a second glance as he stepped over you and stumbled to his room.

After pushing yourself to your feet and massaging your sore jaw, you shot a glare toward the direction of your father’s room. “Fuck you,” you spat quietly before leaving the house and slamming the door shut behind you.

By the time you made it to Barry’s trailer, the sun had set and the small grassy area Barry called his ‘backyard’ was lit up with lights, noises, and people. You made your way around the trailer, nodding to a few people you recognized before you found Barry lounging in a lawn chair with a beer in his hand. His smile was wide and dirty as he laughed with the people surrounding him, seemingly at ease with everyone. When he noticed you walking toward him out of the corner of his eye, his smile brightened and he shouted out for you.

“Ay, look who it is!” he yelled, waving an arm out toward you while the others cheered at your arrival. “I was just thinkin’ about you, sweetheart. C’mon, sit down with me. I left a chair open just for you,” Barry smiled, gesturing to the black lawn chair beside him with a Mikes waiting in the arm pocket. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but to snicker softly at him and take the offered chair.

“What made you so certain I’d show up tonight?” you hummed teasingly while opening the spiked limeade that had been waiting for you.

Barry grinned over the lid of his beer, his brown eyes watching you intently as you drank from your bottle. “Because I know you, sweetheart. Sunday nights are your drop-off nights.” Your cheeks warmed at his comment, but you played it off with a scoff and shake of your head. “I wanted to make sure you were more comfortable tonight, so I kept that chair open for ya and grabbed your favorite while on a liquor run.”

A harsh scoff came from a chair on the other side of Barry, and you peeked around him to see who it came from. “Special privilege for his new fucktoy, what a surprise,” the voice muttered, and you recognized it as one of Barry’s frequent buyers, Sherry. You’d never had a conversation with the girl despite having gone to school with her in the past, and even though she was always at Barry’s get-togethers, she typically seemed more focused on her next fix rather than talking with anyone.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Barry snapped, turning to look at her with a clenched jaw. He seemed to purposefully be blocking her view of you, and you remained silent as the altercation unfolded.

“You know what it means,” she snapped back. “Whenever a new piece of trash starts selling for you, you put your dick in her and use her until another one shows up. But, you never bought them their favorite bitch-drink or saved them a seat, so what makes this one so much better, huh? Why does she get to sit in the big, nice chair next to you, but the rest of us have to have three-legged chairs and warm beers? What about her cunt makes her so much better?” Marie shouted, causing a couple of the others to whistle in disbelief.

Before Barry could respond, one of the boys in the circle spoke up. “Maybe it’s cause she’s not a psychotic bitch who snorts the blow instead of selling it.” You could hear Marie’s angry gasp at the diss, and when Barry gave her a pointed look rather than defending her, she flipped off the group before storming away.

“Remind me why we let Sherry stick around all the time?” Someone questioned as you idly picked at the label on your bottle.

“Because this ain’t a fuckin’ gated community,” Barry scoffed as though it was obvious. The other chuckled in agreement before the conversation picked up and everyone went back to their own thing. You cleared your throat awkwardly once the attention was off of you, not knowing how to respond-- or if you were even supposed to. Barry gave a deep sigh, “Sorry about that, sweetheart. Don’t listen to anything she said, Sherry just hasn’t been doing great since she lost custody of her son. You’re not a fucktoy and I ain’t got no intention of using you like that.”

“Don’t worry about it, she’s going through shit and I get it. I shouldn’t stay long anyway, Luke’s fucked off his ass and if I’m gone much longer he’ll flip,” you shrugged, reaching into your pocket and pulling out the cash as you spoke. “I made about $600 this weekend, and I know it’s not as much as it usually is, but someone had already hit up the beach and two of my usual places by the time I was able to start selling. So, I was stuck at Rafe’s party all of last night and only a handful of small pickups on Friday night.” You handed the wad over to Barry with an apologetic wince. “I still have some blow left over, so I’ll try and push a few eight-balls before the weekend. I’m sorry it’s not more.” Barry flicked through the cash quietly as you explained everything to him, before folding it into his pocket once it was all counted. He finished off his beer while looking you over, causing the nervous feeling in your stomach to grow.

“Sweetheart,” he began with a shockingly gentle sigh, “You ain’t gotta apologize for any of that shit. You’re cleaning up your daddy’s debt because he’s too useless to do it himself, yet you’re not bitter or angry at everyone because of it. I’ve heard of the way you stick by new users throughout the night, making sure they’re using safely and doing okay. You still go to your day job and take care of your brother and his shithead-friends despite being up past dawn most days. You’re doing great, and I don’t ever wanna hear you apologize for thinking you’re not doing enough.”

Your cheeks flamed and your eyes widened in shock as you spluttered helplessly at the man in front of you. “I wasn’t implying that I wasn’t doing enough! I just know how much my dad owes you, and $600 weekends are gonna take too long to pay it off.”

Barry raised an eyebrow at you before grabbing onto the arm of your chair and tugging you closer to him. You yelped at the sudden movement, bracing yourself for the inevitable collapse of you and your chair. Barry laughed loudly at you when you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the chair tightly, but there was no mirth or mock behind his laugh. Once the chair stopped moving and his laugh slowed to a chuckle, you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Relax,” he chuckled, reaching out to move a strand of hair out of your face. “I wasn’t gonna let you fall, just wanted to talk to you better.”

“You could’ve just asked me to move closer,” you grumbled, casting your eyes to the side as your cheeks flushed. “And I told you I can’t stay long to chat.”

Barry gave you a nonchalant shrug, “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, if your daddy’s got an issue with you keeping me company, I’ll just go and have a talk with him. I don’t want you worrying about him when you’ve got enough going on. Stay for a bit, sweetheart. I’ve got a whole cooler full of those Mikes, and you’re the only one I’m allowin’ to drink ‘em. If you really wanna go, I won’t stop you, but I want you to know that I don’t mind you stickin’ around me for a while.”

You bit your lip as you considered Barry’s offer, quietly looking out at the happy party-goers. It was calmer than any Kook party or Boneyard Blowout you had attended, and you had to admit that you loved the calm and welcoming atmosphere. Barry’s warm hand settled over your propped up knee, bringing your attention back to his hopeful eyes.

“Okay, fine,” you caved and Barry squeezed your knee in delight. “But, you have to go get me a drink. Sherry was right, this chair is comfortable as fuck and I don’t wanna get up.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Barry teased and patted your knee before leaving to grab your drink. You stared after him with a bashful smile, unable to help yourself as the nervous feeling in your stomach evolved into flustered butterflies.

‘Shit,’ you groaned to yourself, ‘I’ve got a schoolgirl crush on this motherfucker. I’m so screwed.’

#outerbanks #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks imagines #outerbanks x reader #obx #obx imagine #barry obx #barry outerbanks #barry obx imagine #barry obx x reader #barry outerbanks imagine #barry outerbanks x reader #obx barry #obx netflix

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thevoilinauttheory · 3 years

Text

A Sky Full of Stars

[ FFxivWrite2021 Prompt 6: Avatar ]

[ Content Warnings: None! More cheesy romance :3c ]

youtube

It was difficult to look away from him, everything about him was so heavenly - and he didn’t even know it. Maximiloix leaned against the podium at the front of their one-classroom school, built by their own hands, staring at his husband as he helped students with their work; much like a love-stricken teenager. When Caromont stood from the side of one of their students’ desks, he turned to look at him with a smile before moving on to the next child with their hand raised - it had been ten years already, and he was still as in love with him as he was when he met him; which was clear in the unintentional dumb smile he had on his face. His hearing returned slowly, the drowned out sounds of his name coming into view, breaking him from his daydreaming.

“Mister Voilinaut?” The name had been repeated several times in an attempt to get his attention, when he finally registered that someone was addressing him, he quickly snapped his head over to see that one of their adult students was standing there with their work in their hands. “Ah… sorry ‘bout that, what’s up?” When they were in need of a softer kind of learning, they came to him - something about him assuaged their anxieties of schooling, many of their older pupils were embarrassed about having to learn things as basic as reading; but even *he* didn’t learn how to read until he was well into his twenties. While Caromont wasn’t unapproachable, those with life under their belts found him somewhat intimidating - perhaps it was because they knew he was from Sharlayan, someone much more learned and experienced than the rest of them.

“Finished my work, could ya’ look it over?” “Aye, no worries - y’wantin’ a rest, ‘r somethin’ more t’do?” “I think M’doin’ well enough t’try a harder book.” “Yeah? The next level up’s gonna be on the far back shelf on the right.” He was met with a smile, a small thanks, then watched as they made their way to the back to pick out a new book to read. He turned his eyes down to the small stack of papers, flipping through the exercises and reading them over - there was something fulfilling about seeing someone learn properly from them, from *him*. He never thought himself a teacher, but here he was, grading papers.

“You look so cute when you’re focused~” Another moment, and he hadn’t even realized Caromont had snuck up behind him - he really needed to work on his perception skills. “Swivin’-! Halone’s frozen teats, scared th’faith right outta me, Caro. Y’tryin’ t’put me in an early grave?” Caromont laughed, placing his hand on Maximiloix’s shoulder, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Oh, if there is one thing that is not going to fail anytime soon, it is your heart. I know that from experience~.” Maximiloix flustered, waving his hand dismissively - though the redness of his face only put him in the same gene pool as a tomato when arms were wrapped around his waist. “Only a quarter of a bell left, and there’s no escaping!” “...Not that I’d want ta’ anyways.” Caromont laughed again, letting his arms slip away to go help another student in need of it.

Then it was right back to daydreaming for Maximiloix. His kin had seen this man as a paragon of the stars, and perhaps he was, in the way he read and spoke to them; but that meant nothing to either of them. To Maximiloix, though, he was the embodiment of both the moon and stars - he made sure he knew that too. With hair the color of the harvest moon, eyes like the stars that made up the third gates to the heavens. That he took comfort in the darkness too, the space around them when they were alone - he grew more comfortable with himself because of it. His voice was the awe someone would see in a starshower; his skin was much like the color of the spackles against the canvas he painted a deep blue, artwork that only the gods could create. The absolute epitome of the beautiful nature of the night, with a smile of moonlight.

He was caught staring again.

#ffxivwrite2021 #prompt 6 #avatar #about: Maximiloix Voilinaut #the cold truth #about: Caromont Allard #reading the stars #the fire in the stars #sometimes i shock myself with how much of a child-like spirit maximiloix used to have 😂#and he's my character!#i should know this!#their personalities switched in the future #which is kinda funny to me

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ahlis-xiv · 3 years

Text

journal 50.4

G’raha sat alone, semi-hunched over a piece of parchment as he worked. Although he did not show it, the drafting he ambitiously began was nothing short of a place between fascinating and downright tediousness. The solution to tempering that nestled within his mind and finding a proper way to convey it into some sort of physicality that others could understand took time and a level of focus that brought him back to his Studium days.

He did not mind the effort, really, yet part of him couldn’t help but feel he could be applying himself to something else...namely figuring out why his dear friend decided to depart in such a hurry without so much as a word.

G’raha sighed, and scratched out part of the formulae he attempted to use as a proper proof. It wasn’t correct or, rather, not good enough, and he knew it: it almost felt like he had to somehow invent a whole new notation and he was second guessing every attempt. That, he knew, was as strong a sign as any that he needed a break.

Abandoning his work for the more welcoming sight above Mor Dhona proper, he took to his usual perch and leaned over the ledge to watch the activity below. Ever since he arrived there—since waking up, really—G’raha found the habit of people-watching a welcome one when it came to clearing his head. It had also been an old habit as well from his time as the Exarch. It was difficult at times to not be reminded of it when he went there to be alone--not that it troubled him, but rather his thoughts inevitably wandered to those he had to let go. To old friends and, naturally, to her.

What would Lyna think, he wondered. Of everything? Despite assurances, both given and told to own self, he knew it was a question not quite answerable. He was unfettered, free—free to live the life he wished. A second chance. Yet something gnawed away at his heart that only grew in the wake of what occurred in Ala Mhigo. And the Warrior of Light was nowhere in sight.

He didn’t wish to admit it, but that this point most of all prickled his thoughts. She had been wounded in the confrontation: not severely but enough to warrant considerable healing, namely for her arms. She berated herself for not properly handling the situation, that it was foolish to not deal with Fandaniel and his summoning there and then somehow. When the dust settled with wounds seen to and mended, she slipped away and out of his reach.

G’raha’s hands clasped together in front of him, fretting as his anxiety swelled. Ahlis said many things in the aftermath at the menagerie; much of which he knew was said in a fury he rarely witnessed. He also knew he ought to not dwell on it, as it was not directed towards him—but it felt personal, watching the anger and the walls that suddenly erected around her, forbidding his approach. Surely she knew, she must’ve known that he cared—that they all cared? G’raha understood what it meant to seek solace, to lick one’s wounds after a poor bout in battle, yet to shut him out? Why?

He huffed a frustrated growl, and pouted to himself. This is not about you, G’raha, his more sensible self spoke in his mind. It did little to help when he knew naught what to do with his...feelings, with no soul to utter them to. For the moment, all he had in certainty, was himself.

Looking above to the darkening sky, stars were beginning to sparkle in the deep blue, the gloom weak and unable to hinder their shine. He hoped that wherever Ahlis was, and however she felt, that her safety was sure and her healing swift.

---

Ahlis suddenly grasped the pillow within her bare arms as a sneeze escaped her nose and immediately regretted it.

“Bless you, dearest,” Aymeric spoke above her, his hands gently working her back’s aches and pains into a soothing massage.

“Augh, no,” she said, voice muffled by soft cotton where she shoved her face into it. The great debate of whether she should lift her head up or not kept her in place, lest she reveal a potentially not-so-graceful mess. “I think I ruined it.”

Wordlessly and only with a soft chuckle of amusement Aymeric rose to retrieve a handkerchief as if reading her mind in her current discomfort. When he returned Ahlis was already sitting up, the pillow still pressed to her face. He did not know how to assure her that there were far worse things that could ruin one’s bedding, but seeing the flushed look upon her face while she cleaned herself as discretely as possible encouraged him to say nothing.

“Are you feeling better?” Aymeric asked, once she seemed satisfied to show herself, the pillow and handkerchief no longer covering her face.

“Yes, thank you,” Ahlis spoke, relief entering her voice. “I am sorry, about this, though.” Her hands still held onto the pillow until he reached for it himself, lightly tossing it aside and back onto the bed.

“It is of no consequence. My home is yours, including the aforementioned pillow.”

That made Ahlis laugh, as he hoped it would, and Aymeric took this moment to join her again, sitting side by side upon the edge of the bed. It was useless however to ignore the wrappings around both her palms and forearms, both of which had been kept out of sight when lying on her stomach. Catching his glancing eyes, Ahlis took that moment to adjust her bandages.

“The pain is mostly gone. Now it’s just itching,” she spoke, more annoyed than in any sort of true discomfort. “New skin takes some getting used to and breaking in, imagine that.”

“May I see it?” Aymeric asked after a moment’s pause, his voice careful in its near-whisper like intensity.

For a second, she hesitated. Unraveling them didn’t hurt much anymore, so when she did reveal the newly healed burns that rested beneath she didn’t hold back in extending her arm in front of him. If only her heart that thumped heavily in her chest agreed! Nerves, however troublesome they proved to be, would do little in assuaging his concern.

“There you are,” Ahlis said with an exuberance she hoped sounded sure and confident. “It’s not so terrible now, aye?”

It was not her intent to fool him, rather, it was better than the ire she felt deep within at how it happened, and better still than to appear caught off-guard or foolish to have been struck at all by such an injury. It had been a mistake, one that could’ve gone even more horribly wrong in an instant if not for…

“Oh, Ahlis...”

Her thoughts stopped, everything stopped. She was helpless as she watched the shock that touched his eyes turn to despair, to pain that flowed into the tenderness that came with his touch as he cradled her wrist to his cheek. There was a knot of scarred tissue just below where his lips met her skin; the first kiss was given there, then another just above it towards her palm.

Such sensations, intensified against her freshly healed wounds, rendered her voice frozen within her throat. It was almost too much; she released a heavy, shaky breath that gave him pause, and Aymeric turned to look upon her so intensely, so painfully, she dared think she might cry herself.

“It’s fine,” she found herself saying, finally, unsure if it truly was after all.

---

Later, long after they had gone to bed, she would wake to see the stars out in the beyond just outside the window, the silhouette of spires cutting across the dark. A rare, clear night in the city. Gripped by the sight, she stole herself away to find a place to write...

Evenings have proven to be the best, and only time, to write clear-headed these days. As if I do not need sleep.

The itching has finally subsided enough to carry on without thinking about it and now I can finally sit for half a bell to write while at the same time not wishing to scratch my skin off. I’ve had lacerations, all manners of bruising and concussive injuries. I’ve even been shot at! But note to self: never get fucking burned like that again.

I’m going to kill that bastard with his own medicine, and I will enjoy it

[there is a drawing here of a figure in a robe with a sword skewering it all the way through, who is also on fire]

The healing has progressed as it will, and I trust Krile and Alphinaud’s hands more than any other—although granted my sourness over it all could have been a little less scathing, I guess.

But what can I say, a lot of bullshite has been happening these days. I’m getting a mite bit enraged that these Ascian arseholes aren’t leaving me alone, and yet I am not entirely surprised. It’s not over until it is over.

gods when will that be never ah ha ha ha

In the meantime I have made good on my own promises to make my own self comfortable as best I can, heal as best I am able, and spending what time I can in Ishgard. The others are probably wondering when I’ll return to the Stones but until G’raha outlines our approach on implementing proper protocol on the tempering solution I honestly don’t want to hear about anything else. Alisaie should be helping, I am sure, as is Alphinaud too I think. It’ll be fine! And fast too.

I mean I would help more too but I don’t have a crazy as all hells academic background as they do seven hells I’d love me a curriculum found in the Studium within those stupid halls and their even stupider “zero involvement” stance on bloody everything

share your goddamn science you twits

I am far more tired than I thought. But! I am also finally able to think about the impending reconnaissance we’re bound to have soon once Thancred and Urianger return.

if something happens with them I swear to ever loving shite I am going to boot them back to the First with my fist

Without my Stupid! Arms! Annoying me!

OH is that little

[the writing stops here with an ink blot, as if the pen was dropped and left there, the smeared and distinct shape of a cat’s paw crossing part of the page]

#my writing #the journals #this got way longer than I thought but I did it!#big thx to em for helping me edit this bless and thank #I enjoyed this even if it was difficult to write #hey I finally got some g'raha writing in AND some kinda fluffy angsty stuff? yeeee #; final fantasy xiv #patch 5.4 #shadowbringers #reading for maint har har

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devilmaywrite · 3 years

Note

if your taking requests... how bout some valen and kai angst over how he was in the cult 😈

I'm so sorry that this has taken me so long jfkdslf. I did actually write something like this a while back. But I think I'm gonna revise the part where Valen actually finds out or whatever so I hope this suffices

“Blood magic to hurt a vampire? Impressive."

The voice is different this time. A woman’s but not the dunmer’s. It’s sweet and silvery and Valen can’t help but to want to hear more.

Valen turns her gaze up at her and the Breton woman is unlike anyone she’d ever seen. She’s absolutely ethereal with her dark waves of hair framing her soft features. She’s almost ghostly in a way with her pale skin and features, she’s obviously ancient despite her soft features saying otherwise. There's an element of elegance in everything she does, even as she just simply strides across the snow towards her companions before helping the man to his feet and having the other woman help him stand, even though he’s vomiting up blood and staining the snow in front of them. Clearly Valen’s spell had more of an effect than she anticipated.

"That’s the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, Valen.” Kaidan whispers, gripping her upper arm.

“The Hero of Kvatch? Helena Motierre?” Valen asks in astonishment.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard that title, but yes. Most people don’t refer to me as that anymore. It’s also been a while since I’ve seen you, Kaidan." Her voice is velvet but his tone is mocking as Helena stares at the red-eyed swordsman.

"You two know each other?” Valen asks, looking quickly between the two of them.

“Well the four of us do, but yes, the Brotherhood and the Blooded Dawn have long since been friends, my dear Dragonborn. Since the Oblivion Crisis ended, I’ve made sure of it.”

The Blooded Dawn? This is the first time Valen was hearing of any of this. She quickly turns her questioning gaze to Kaidan, desperate for answers. But it doesn’t seem she would get any from him. He’s nearly catatonic next to her. His jaw is clenched, his demeanor clearly tense as he keeps his gaze to the snow covered ground in front of them.

“Kai? Surely she has you mistaken for someone else?” Valen says, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. “You can��t be part of that atrocious cult."

"He’s not,” Helena answers for him, clearly delighting in the conflict. “At least not anymore. He was for quite a while. It seems your beloved is not who you think, Dragonborn. He was quite the model member."

"Oh, and Kaidan? Rosalind sends her regards."

That seems to snap Kaidan out of his daze as he quickly looks up at the ancient woman in front of them, his expression full of confusion and disgust.

"Rosalind…?"

“You’re shaking like a leaf, Kaidan. Surely you didn’t think you got rid of her that easily.”

Helena says nothing more but shoots a wink at Valen before she and her companions dissolve into black mist, disappearing before their very eyes, though not before Felria sends them a wave goodbye. Valen turns to look at Kaidan, anger quickly bubbling in her abdomen.

"Care to tell me what that was about?” Valen asks through her teeth.

Kaidan can’t seem to find words as he looks at her desperately. This only fueled Valen’s anger further. She tears away her arm that was still in his grasp and steps away from him.

“You lied to me, Kaidan! This isn’t just some petty shit you can keep from me. You were a Daedric puppet and just never fucking cared to tell me! I can tell you everything but you can’t be fucking bothered to tell me you that had Dagon’s hand up your ass? Are you kidding me!? I trusted you but I can clearly see that was a mistake."

The silence between them is deafening at they simply stare at each other. Valen’s anger was rare, even rarer when it was directed towards him. So to see her expression filled with rage, towards him, nonetheless is crushing. Kaidan’s still holding his hand out from gripping her arm and his eyes momentarily brimmed with tears that he quickly blinks away before finally dropping his hand.

"Nothing to say? Really?” Valen asks with a bitter laugh.

Kaidan shakes his head before responding. “I am not that man anymore, Vay. You have to believe me. I need you to understand that before I tell you anything else. I know you’re angry and I’m sorry for keeping this from you.”

Kaidan can’t seem to keep his voice steady and the desperate look in his eyes makes Valen’s heart drop slightly. She wants to stay mad at him, she knows she should. But she knows herself well enough to know that she just can’t.

Valen blows a deep sigh, wiping a hand over her face. “Who’s Rosalind?”

The question floats around in Kaidan’s mind for a moment while he asks himself how exactly he wants to answer that question. He thought he knew who she was, at least for a short time and maybe he still does know who she is, at least the person she is at her core. Though he figures just saying that she’s a psychotic bitch wouldn’t make the cut right now.

“You know how you asked me if I’d ever been in love and I said a lass had been… trouble? Well, that was Rosalind. I met her while I was in that cult. She was the clan’s priestess, very talented in conjuration magic."

"So what happened between you two? Or I guess with the whole group in general."

“I met them when I killed their leader, believe it or not. He had a pretty good bounty on his head, and I wanted it. I expected the others to retaliate but they actually commended me, twisted, eh? But that’s how it all started. I was alone in the world and killing people for money and they gave me a place to belong. At the beginning, I think I was actually happy. And then the farm happened…”

“The farm?”

“It was a small estate outside Leyawiin, we were raiding it for supplies but everyone got out of control. The things that were done to that family… I wish I could forget it, but perhaps I don’t deserve to. Night after night I couldn’t get their screams out of my mind till the only thing I could think to do was, well, destroy the cult itself.”

Valen almost asks what happened to the family but quickly decides that she doesn’t want to know. Specifically, the things that Kaidan is truly capable of...

“That’s how you got away?”

“Aye, sort of. It didn’t exactly go as planned. I didn’t want Rosalind to die with the rest of them and I thought she’d be on my side - stupidest assumption I ever made. I wanted to know if her magic could make me stronger, she said it could… well, she turned her magic against me instead. When someone you think you love tries to burn you alive in the fires of Oblivion and summons Dremora to tear the flesh from your bones, it tends to change how you see them. The hideout was destroyed in the fight; I don’t know if anyone survived.”

“And this is all how you knew those assassins?”

“Aye, though I saw Helena and Lucien the most. Felria, who I assume was the Dunmer, never stuck around long. Helena kept ties for centuries, insisting that it would benefit both groups. It probably does though I never saw how.”

Valen sighs again. “They value the same things at their core, they just worship different deities. It makes sense. Helps keep both of them afloat.”

“I guess…” Kaidan trails off.

The silence hangs heavy in the air, quickly becoming uncomfortable but neither of them bother to move away from each other despite barely being able to look at the other. Thankfully, Valen is the first to speak.

“I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that… I know who you are now and that matters more than what you did in the past.”

“You were justified,” Kaidan is quick to brush off her apology. “I shouldn’t have kept something like that from you. I just didn’t want you to think any differently of me…”

Valen frowns at that. “I don’t think any different of you, contrary to anything I said. It’s rare that I get that upset and I snapped, I guess. I think you’re a good man, Kai, I always have.”

Kaidan simply closes his eyes, sighing in relief as he steps closer to her to pull her into his arms. “Thank you, Vay.”

Valen simply smiles at him, reaching up to cup his face and planting a soft kiss on the new scar on his cheekbone from their recent battle. She leans back with a more serious expression on her face which makes Kaidan frown in concern.

“What is it?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you think Rosalind will come after you now?”

Kaidan’s frown deepens into a scowl as he seems to ponder the question, absentmindedly running his hands up and down Valen’s sides.

“It’s possible, especially now. But that’s something I’ll have to face if it comes to it.”

“You won’t be alone in that. You know that right?”

“I will be, if it means keeping you out of Dagon’s reach. I don’t want you getting hurt, not because of me.”

Valen’s expression drops once again as she narrows her eyes as him. “We’re a team, remember? We do things together?”

Kaidan simply chuckles at that. “I should know better than to fight you on these things by now.”

“Damn right you should.”

#not much of a change tbh but i didn't wanna leave you hanging after so long fjkdlsjf #my ocs #skyrim #kaidan mod

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mycupoffanfiction · 4 years

Text

Mi Vida

Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas x Reader (smut)

Summary: After pushing the love of his life away to keep her safe, Creeper reunites with her when she calls him for help and they end up rediscovering everything they had before and more.

Warnings: Fluff, allusions to an abusive ex but no details, mention of a fight, smut, oral (female and male receiving), unprotected sex.

Word count: Approx 2600

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves, I have had this idea on my mind for a while and I couldn’t shake it until I wrote it. Writing this made me feel soft, I hope it makes you feel soft too. This fic was partially inspired by a quote I saw ages ago about how the night sky connects everyone and how you can take comfort in knowing that someone else is looking at the stars at the same time as you. If I could remember who I saw this from, I would reference it, but I don’t remember unfortunately! Anyway, sorry for the waffle, I hope you enjoy this 💖 (Gif is my own)

Creeper sat at your side, passing you a hot drink. Sitting out on the steps up to the clubhouse, Creeper felt you lean a little against him as he looked up at the night sky, letting out a sigh. It felt strange to be under the stars at your side again, memories of the two of you sharing many nights watching the stars in each other’s company. “I didn’ think I’d ever see you again.” He admitted, breaking the comfortable silence between you both. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to-.” “Ay, no hermosita, you ain’t gotta apologise, you needed help, I came the second you called.” He interrupted. “I jus’ meant it’s been a long ass time.” Creeper sighed, internally scolding himself for making you think you had inconvenienced him. “It has, too long.” You replied quietly, the words coming out a little hesitant, like you were afraid to admit that to him.

Glancing down at you, Creeper gently rested his hand on your knee, watching as you took a sip of your drink. You felt his eyes on you, lifting your gaze to meet his and Neron gave you a soft, half smile. His eyes left yours, trailing over the remnants of your earlier altercation with a persistent ex that had been the cause of your reunion with Creeper.

He hated that you had been hurt, he hated that someone had laid their hands on you, leaving marks, cuts that went deep. “You know he won’t hurt you again, don’ you?” Creeper asked, watching as your eyes went wide. “Shit, is he- did you-.” “He ain’t dead, if that’s what you’re askin’.” Creeper couldn’t help but chuckle. “We just roughed ‘im up a bit, that motherfucker knows you’re protected, he won’ come back.” He spoke with sincerity in his voice, adding conviction to his tone that told you that you could still trust him, just like you had those years ago.

“Thank you.” You said, lifting your mug and taking a sip from it. “No thank you’s hermosita, that motherfucker hurt you. It’s my fuckin’ job to keep you safe. I promised you that a long ass time ago.” Creeper smiled and you looked up at him with a sweet smile. “You remember that?” You asked, surprised he had held onto that moment you had shared years ago.

“Look we can’t be around each other all the time, I don’t want you gettin’ mixed up with this life, it’s dangerous.” Neron had told you. “You’re pushing me away?” You asked in a soft whisper. “You know I gotta, hermosita. I gotta keep you safe.” He held your shoulders with a gentle grip, looking into your eyes with a gentle, but persuasive stare. “Please, you’re all I’ve fuckin’ got, I need you to trust me. I need you to keep your fuckin’ distance from this, from me, yeah?”

Letting out a shaky sigh, you nodded. You knew from the tone in his voice that he was being serious, that this was very real and you needed to trust him. “Only call me for emergencies, ‘aight? I promise, I'll always protect you.”

“Alright.” You said, voice wobbling slightly as you held back tears.

After years of friendship and something that had been slowly moving towards something more, Creeper had pushed you away. You knew he had been right to, but all you had wanted was to be with him.

“‘Course, did you think I was jus’ gonna forget ‘bout you?” Creeper asked. Lowering your mug and setting it down on the step next to you, a soft sigh left your lips. “I never stopped thinkin’ ‘bout you.” He said, reaching into the inner pocket of his kutte, pulling out a slip of paper and handing it to you. Taking it from him, you gently unfolded the crumpled paper. It looked as if it had been through a lot, it was creased and the folds were fragile. Tears came to your eyes as you looked down at the photograph he had kept, younger versions of yourselves looking back at you, holding each other as you both looked at the camera with bright smiles.

“I wish we never left that behind.” You whispered, leaning fully against Neron, resting your head on his shoulder. “Me too, baby.” He sighed, the Mayan putting his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “You meant more to me than just a- a friend.” You sniffled, trying to hold back your tears as Neron pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Hermosita, you have always been everythin’ to me.” He said, kissing your forehead again, loving the way it felt when you leaned into him.

“Please don’t push me away again.” The words were quiet as you spoke them against his shoulder, the Mayan looking down at you and gently soothing his thumb over your cheek. “I won’t.” He whispered to you, leaning in, lips brushing against yours. “Promise?” You asked against his lips. “I promise, sweetheart.” Creeper said, kissing you gently.

His lips were gentle against yours, warm and soft. You could taste the light hint of smoke on his lips as he moved against you, hands tugging you closer. Neron let out a soft groan as your touch trailed over his chest, fingers passing over the patches on his kutte until your fingers met at the nape of his neck. Carefully, Creeper pulled you into his lap so that you were straddling him, deepening the kiss, his tongue finding yours, caressing you gently.

Carefully, he lifted you in his arms, holding you tight as he walked you across the yard to his trailer, pausing to kiss you every few steps, far too occupied with you to pay full attention to where he was going and he almost tripped up the step into his trailer.

“I want you, baby.” Neron whispered against your lips as he gently walked you back against the bathroom door. “I want you too, please Neron.” You replied, your voice hot and needy against his lips and he loved it. Creeper craved you, he craved to have you beneath him, to have you wrapped around him, to be with you, to feel you.

It had never really been a secret between the two of you that you were in love, even when you were just friends. It had been obvious and you both knew it, and maybe that was why Creeper had been the one to push you away so abruptly and put an end to things.

But if he knew anything, it was that the love you shared would never keep you apart for long and those years you spent away from him were just as excruciating for you as it was for him. Looking up at the sky at night and taking comfort in knowing that perhaps you too were looking at the moon at the same time and maybe you would be reunited again one day was the only thing that seemed to ease the ache.

Falling onto his bed, you weren’t even sure when you had begun to cry, but tears rolled down your cheeks, making Creeper pause in his movements, your hands clinging to him, afraid to let go in case it was all a dream, in case this was meant to end all over again.

“What’s wrong, baby? Did I do something wrong?” He asked softly, reaching up to wipe away your tears with the pads of his thumbs. Shaking your head, you sniffled, trying to compose yourself as you looked up at him. “I just don’t want this to end, I don’t want to let you go again.” You admitted, the weight of the confession finally lifting as he scooped you up, holding you against his chest.

“I got you, I ain’t ever lettin’ you go again, we’re in this together, you an’ me.” He reassured you, his voice gentle and sweet as he leaned down to kiss you. “Let me show you, baby. Lemme take care of you.

Slow and hazy, as if everything seemed to align for the first time in years, the chaos you had endured seemed to calm as you undressed each other, taking in one another. Tender kisses pressed against your skin as Neron trailed his attention down, down until he reached your core, gently caressing the sensitive bud with his thumb as he parted your legs, pressing sweet, hot kisses against your thighs.

He went slow, savouring each soft moan and gasp he drew from you with each movement, his tongue pleasuring you in the most intimate way, bringing you the love and the devotion he had always wanted to share with you.

“That’s it, baby, I got you, you can let go for me.” He encouraged, his deep, soft voice was soothing as he brought you close to the edge, his tongue swirling in tight, slow circles around your bud. Nearing your high, he sped up, looking up at you, holding your gaze as he gently stroked you to your orgasm with his tongue, watching as you threw your head back, the euphoria sending slow, rolling waves through you, taking over every sense and bringing you to a new sense of peace as Neron worked you down from your orgasm.

Slowly, you worked his jeans off, pulling his boxers down to reveal his hardened length. “Fuck, sweetheart.” He groaned, voice low and heavy with lust as you took his cock into your hand, drawing your tongue up his length until you reached the tip. With an unhurried pace, you took him into your mouth, taking him deep, your tongue flattening against him. You met his gaze, his eyes wide with lust as his fingers gently brushed against your cheek, lips parting in pure bliss as you began to move, pulling away before taking him in again, swallowing his length as much as you could.

“Oh shit- fuck you feel so good.” Creeper could barely speak. “Please baby, I gotta feel you.” He spoke gently, caressing your cheek with his thumb before you slowly pulled away, swirling your tongue around the tip before you parted from him completely.

Lowering you against the bed, Neron leaned over you, the cool gold chains that hung from his neck touched your hot skin, drawing a soft gasp from your lips as he gently pressed his length against your heat, sliding in with a heavy, slow thrust that let you feel every inch of him. “Neron,” It came out as a breathy moan, your touch soft against his skin, sending shivers through him. “Neron, mi cielo.” “I’m righ’ here, mi alma.” His words brushed against your lips as he ghosted over them, his lips gentle against yours as he kissed you, thrusting into you with a heavy, slow pace.

Working you both up, Neron kissed you until you were both breathless as he embraced you. He rocked into you, soft, low grunts leaving his lips as he worked to hit your sweet spot, watching the way you got closer and closer to your release. You looked beautiful, blissful as he rode you towards your next orgasm, the hazy, dreamy look in your eyes captivating him and he wondered how he had ever managed to stay away from you as long as he had, knowing that he loved you with all of his heart.

“Cum for me, lemme feel you, baby.” He whispered to you, feeling the way your walls fluttered around him. His words were all you needed and with one more thrust, you reached your peak, warmth spreading through you as you let out a long moan, fingers digging into his tattooed skin, holding onto him as you came. Your gaze on his, the way you moaned out his name in pleasure, how you held him, your walls clenching him as shockwaves rolled through you and his thrusts became sloppier, heavier and harder until he let go, groaning as he finished.

Looking down at you, spent, taking in quick breaths, Creeper leaned down to kiss you, his beard tickling your bare skin. The silence was comfortable as Neron pulled out of you and quietly cleaned you both up before relaxing next to you. Taking you in his arms, you cuddled up against him, resting your head on his chest as he ran his fingers up and down your back, taking his time to process everything you two had done, the feelings shared between you, both spoken and silent.

The question lingered in his mind for a short while. He was afraid, perhaps it wasn’t what was best for either of you, but he knew he couldn’t live without you, not again. “Will you stay with me? We can work this out, together this time.” Neron broke the silence, his voice was quiet and soft, as if he didn’t want to break the peace the pair of you had created. “I can get a new place and- fuck I’ll do anythin’ for you to make this work.”

Propping yourself up and leaning on his chest, you smiled softly at the man who’s embrace you lay in, the man you had fallen in love with when you were both young, a love that followed you each night and played on your mind in the form of painfully realistic dreams. But nothing compared to how it felt in real life, nothing compared to how it felt to be together.

“Of course I’ll stay with you, Neron. I love you.” You replied, watching as he smiled, such a deep, sincere smile that it reached his eyes.

“I love you too, mi amor de mi vida.”

Mayans Taglist (OPEN):

@everyhowlmarksthedead @woahitslucyylu @trulysuccubus @iambabyharry @starrynite7114 @ifoundmyhappythought @claytoncardenasbabymama @peaches007 @angelreyesgirl @thesandbeneathmytoes @plentyoffandoms

Permanent Taglist (OPEN):

@scuzmunkie @scarlett-berserker @megantje123 @sideeffectsofyou @loving-life-my-way @searching-for-neverland @kitkatd7 @shadycupcakefox @psychiccreationtaco @damienwitcher @thesewaywardskies @abbiesthings

#creeper vargas x reader #neron creeper vargas x reader #neron vargas x reader #creeper vargas x you #creeper vargas x y/n #neron vargas x you #neron creeper vargas x you #neron vargas #creeper #neron creeper vargas #mayans mc #mayans fic #mayans smut #mayans

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indigobackfire · 3 years

Text

Phoenix Lazar Nobleworth Silverwood

Below is a lengthy history of his parents, their involvement with dragons, and how he lost them.

Ps: I tried adding some Scottish dialect in the dialogue, but I'm not the best at it considering all I have as reference is my love for James McAvoy and Outlander. Forgive me in advance for any atrocities lol. Also, diverging from canon especially in relation to Veela powers and physical descriptions.

Phoenix's father, Emilian, was sorted into Gryffindor and with pride, he was a Gryffindor by the book, adventurous, brave, often reckless, fun, with a strong sense of protection over his friends, someone who valued courage and honor.

Emilian didn't know how he and Palmer Silverwood - Slytherin, pureblood, much more popular than him, and one of the best duelists in their year - became friends, he also didn't know how Palmer found an about to hatch dragon egg in the forbidden forest, or how he even got into the forbidden forest to begin with, but being who he was, Emilian wasn't much surprised.

The biggest surprise was that Palmer even knew who he was.

Emilian takes a peek into Palmer's robes where the egg is hidden. "So? You're the dragon laddie, Nobleworth."

"Yeah, it's a dragon egg. Common Welsh Green this one." He looks up. "And is that what people call me?"

"Are ye really surprised? You talk about them all the time, yer the best in Care of Magical Creatures, and ye have a dragon painted at the back of yer bloody robes."

"Only fair. McGonagall hates it."

Palmer laughs. "Will ye help me?"

"Aye. But what ye want me to do?"

"I dinna ken. I just don't want the wee dragon to die. The poor creature wasn't warm when I found it so it's probably motherless. I mean... they fire up their eggs, don't they?"

Emilian smiles. "You're not as unknowledgeable as you think, Silverwood. Let's go somewhere more private."

In the humid and dusty air of the artifact room, they hide. "Hand me the egg."

Palmer hands him the egg delicately as if the creature inside it wasn't one that could eat them both in a bite when grown. And for a moment Palmer wonders what he'll do, but Emilian just stands there holding the egg. And as he's about to question him, he sees Emilian's fingers get bright red.

"Mate? What's wrong with yer hands?"

Emilian snickers. "I have a secret, can you keep it?" Palmer nods eyes fixated on the egg whose cracks were very slowly growing. "I'm half Veela and whilst I can't throw balls of fire from my hands... I can heat it up to... oven temperature."

"Oven temperature?"

Emilian smirks. "Ah dinnae have exact numbers, but if ye want to give a touch."

Palmer looks at his hands again. "Nae. They're as bright as molten glass, lad."

Emilian raises his eyebrows. "Oh, I felt it move."

"Ooohh, it's gonna set this tiny room on fire."

"Let me hide it this time. I ken a place we can go. The person ye should've gone to in the first place."

Palmer widens his eyes. "Kettleburn, nae."

"Silverwood, ye cannae keep the dragon. It'll set you on fire before completing one year."

Palmer puffs as they walk out of the artifact room. "If the dragon enthusiast dinnae want to keep a real dragon, why would I?"

"A dragon lover is the same as a bee lover. You can appreciate the honey, the lovely stripes, but if ye hold it in yer hand, it'll sting you. Dragons were made to live outside, flying, spitting fire. A wee dragon is cute, but once is grown..."

"Yer a curious lad, Nobleworth." Emilian gives an awkward half smile. "I like you."

Their friendship was as unexpected to them as it was for the bystanders, but one that sustained for their last two years in Hogwarts - including Palmer's girlfriend, Clarin, an uptight but curious Ravenclaw, who despite her best instincts followed behind on the boys' adventures.

When Emilian announced he would be leaving England for the Dragon Sanctuary in Romania a couple of years later, as much as Palmer and Clarin expected that to happen, it still came with the bittersweetness of watching one of their best friends go.

Years go by, but still, their bond sustains time and distance. Every opportunity they had, the SIlverwoods would travel to Romania to visit their friend who in a lighting in a bottle chance found himself a wife of "his kind".

Full Veela, Antonia Lazar, practically raised herself as her father left her mother, a temperamental full Veela woman, to deal with Tonia herself, a task she delegated to her equally careless family members, closely involved with the Dragon Sanctuary in times the place was still informally managed.

When Emilian meets her, barely wearing rags over her body, barefoot on the grass, pearl blonde hair unruly, looking as if she was raised by wild house elves, he couldn't help his heart hammering in his chest. Female Veela beauty wasn't something he was unused to, considering his mother and aunts were ones as well, but when Antonia was before him he thought of himself before a goddess.

Emilian tries not to spill the water in the heavy buckets while Antonia doesn't seem to be struggling at all. He wouldn't have a need to even carry them if he hadn't forgotten his wand, but at least he got to be alone with her.

"Why is it that ye dinnae like us?"

"You English think you run the place just because you read about dragons in a book, think you know more than us who grew with hundreds of them." She shoots him firey eyes. "Know when I first rode a dragon? I was five years old!"

"I never say I doubted yer capacities. And I'm not English, I'm Scottish." She glares at him again. "I'm kidding."

"Don't get me angry, you won't like it me angry. Trust me."

"I would actually. I wonder what color yer feathers would be."

"I'm sorry?"

"I ken a Veela when I see one. Especially cause I'm half one."

Her expression soothes a little. She puts the bucket down and grips his hand. "Go, do your magic."

While his hand goes as hot as they can, his eyes slowly change hues to match her, never breaking eye contact. "It's nice touching a girl who doesn't mind a more... ardent touch."

She gives a small smile. "You're pathetic."

"I'd love to fly on a dragon's back with someone who understands about them. I promise I'm not here to mock or doubt you. I love those creatures more than anyone I know."

She lets go of his hand and with a smirk picks up the bucket. "Well, now you know me."

Their relationship quickly becomes stronger as they spend day after day together. The work at the Sanctuary is as rewarding as it is tiring, so at the end of long days, they would sit together and exchange stories, her of her buckwild childhood and him of his years in Hogwarts. In each other's company that they find an air of normality and peace.

After recognizing and accepting her strong feelings for Emilian - something hard considering how men had treated her before, seeking what she had to offer them more than considering her needs - and finding out he felt the same for the longest time, they decided to marry, her seeing in him a sense of stability for the first time in her life.

It doesn't take long until Antonia is pregnant with their first child, and in the pool of genes and possibilities, their first-born boy is a full Veela like his mother, something uncommon for boys. Not considering what would be 'formal' or well accepted, Antonia decides to name him Phoenix for encompassing what being a Veela means to her, a bird of elegance and fire and perseverance.

And as if it was pre-destined, just a couple months prior, Clarin and Palmer had given birth to a girl of name just as uncommon, little Indigo Silverwood, who is but three months old when they come to Romania to meet little Phoenix.

To this day, the Silverwoods wonder if their timing was the best or worst it could've been.

As in the same week they came to visit, an attack happens with the intent of capturing as many dragons as they could from the reserve, something that had happened times before but this time much better planned and heavily armed with the best wizards they could get.

They start picking up their wands in haste while seeking the fire protection potion they had brewed specially for this trip back at home. "What do they need dragons for? Can't they breed their own." Clarin asks.

"Is not like is legal or easy to do so." Antonia has her eyes soaked with tears. "They don't care about the creatures, they want money. Oh, they use their blood to make spot removers. Oven cleaners! How can you take a marvelous creature and turn it into such a pathetic thing? Then they use their hearts in you wizards stupid wands and their skin into gloves!"

"Somebody must have heard about the new Chinese Fireball," Emilian says, "People seek the gold in their horns and eggs, but if you pull them out, they die."

"Not to mention the baby Romanians. Put your goddamn boots on already, Emilian!"

"What 'bout the bairns?" Palmer asks anxiously.

"There's no time. They probably ain't getting all the way up here, but in all cases." Emilian grabs the potion from Clarin's hands turning over Jacob's and baby Indigo's mouth, knowing the fire wouldn't do harm to Phoenix. He places something in Jacob's little hand. "Jacob, if any mean person comes trying to hurt ye, throw this at their feet and run. Alright?" Jacob nods, eyes wide with fear and excitement of a five-year-old.

"What is it?" Palmer asks.

"A vial of Peruvian's Vipertooth venom, extremely deadly and volatile. Don't ask me why I have it."

Palmer looks at Jacob. "Stay quiet and protect the babies, right, love?"

Antonia kisses Phoenix on the forehead one last time then turns to the others. "Let's go, please!"

And if they knew, she would've held him a little longer, Emilian would've stopped time for a couple of seconds to look at their boy for a lingering moment more. But they didn't and time never reversed.

They weren't the only lives lost, but side by side they fought and won and lost and lost and lost. They managed to protect all but two of the dragons at the end, blood of dark wizards - and innocent ones - soaked the grounds. Dragons loose on the sky overhead, blood spilt from both sides, burnt buildings, scars that would never heal, the body of a friend devoided of life, a mother of dragons and children never to wake up again, children crying in a cabin kilometers away.

When Antonia's mother refused to watch over her own grandson, Clarin felt as if it was her own son the woman refused and it was that soon the decision to keep him came. She was still breastfeeding and no ordinary family would know how to raise him right, at least that's what both her and Palmer told themselves. Emilian's parents, both devastated by the news of their son's death were quick to agree with the Silverwoods' proposal.

And it's like this that Phoenix and Indigo are practically raised as twins, still young when he notices he doesn't look like the rest of them - a pale and blonde boy in a family of tanned brunettes - not only for his looks but by the fact that sinking his hand into a pot of boiling water doesn't hurt or the fact his anger makes his body react differently from the others or that people got mesmerized by his looks enough to do whatever he asked them to.

But the Silverwoods learn the painful way that raising a Veela child is not easy work. Not only easily irritable but also dangerous when transformed, not much to others while still young, but to himself due to painful and harmful transformation, taking hours until he could retain his human form. Meditating and thought exercises became pivotal from an early age. As not make their treatment towards him different from Indigo, they become tougher with both, demanding an altruistic, patient, and empathetic behavior from both.

This leads Phoenix to grown into a level-headed, sweet and compassionate boy who eventually got sorted into Hufflepuff without the sorting hat having to consider long.

As much as he wishes he had grown with his biological parents, he's grateful to have grown in the family he did and doesn't consider himself any less part of it, he loves his siblings dearly and considers and reslects his parents as if it was from their blood and cells he was made of.

---

This is my attempt at a concise history of Phoenix, mostly his parents who I dream of drawing someday. I'll make something in the future for his romantic life as it is its own ride. I ship him with Ismelda and boy oh boy I have some to say about that.

If you wanna more info on Phoenix, I made him an OC profile :)

#mi artita #phoenix nobleworth #fanfic?#oc backstory #hufflepuff #dragons are in it too #an attempt at scottish sounding dialogue #i cant draw clothes for sht #or poses #or hair #help #hphm #hogwarts mystery

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es05l2k5sl · 4 years

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I'll never understand why WB had to redesign the Batcast for the new Bat adventures. Some characters took getting used to. But as for the villains, I'm roasting they asses cus they're ugly. Can't change my mind.

These Oswalds together look like 2 different people bruh. But we're here to talk about new Oswald. This Wimpy x Olive Oyl fusion snoody looking ass bitch. I'd like his outfit if it didn't have that lazy drawned bow tie looking like 2 triangles glued together & those fake ass MJ gloves. Also when tf did he have 10 fingers in dis universe? Also fuck that hair. Rocking a balding Mullet like ponytail before. Now it's just a boring cut down. Got dat snooty ass bitch look on face like his bird shit don't be stinking. I'll rock tf out u. Lookin like a whole ass Looney character or sum mf from the 30s.

Wot da fuck dey got Selena wearing here? Sis looking like a whole ass alien. Kid vs Kat looking ass bish. And her skin white af too? Did sis fall in some damn Joker acid too? Sis whole lower face is white as shit! Dat shit paler than crack. Like sis got the white slapped outta her and she just turned whiter. Das probably what happened. Her ass probably got on my mans Bruce last nerves one night and got da shit backslapped out her ass.

So my dude Matthew got turned a different color pal & got his neck privileges revoked? Lazy af but not the worst revamp.

You kno that meme: "upgrade, upgrade, FUCK GO BACK!"? Dis pre much sums up Jonathan here. My mans jus looks so dirty here. Looking straight outta da trash bin. Like literally dirty. Nasty ass teeth probably got dat hot ass breath blowing thru them bitches. Das a real fear toxin right there. Long ass black as shit dirty ass hair. Tryna copy off my girl from the ring w dat shit. Need to take dat dirty ass wig and mask and Amish hat tf off my dude. It is not rocking you. Dat whole worn out trashy ass outfit ain't working for you either hoe. You need to take yo ass a bath bitch cus your arms looking brown and ashy as a bitch. You can not even THINK about borrowing anything from me w yo dirty creepy stalker lookin ass. If you don't put down that damn stick like yo ass need help walking and shit I oughtta bitch ya ass with the shit fo going around dressed like dis. Take that damn rope off your neck bitch fo I do something Bruce won't do.

Bruh, you can not go up to my face and tell me these niggas are the same person in the same mofucking universe! Jervis What da fuck did they DO TO YOU MY N**GA?? N**ga looking like a damn leprechaun with special needs and shit. Rocking all dat dookie green swag but you got no swag anymore my dude. It's shit like you clothes and yo breath! Yo shits wasn't perfect and white before but them hoes looking hella worse now. What you get drinking all that damn tea my n**ga. Ol Tiny ass n**ga. Like wot. HOW?! HOW TF DID YO ASS SHRINK??? LIKE SOMEBODY TOSSED YOU ASS IN A LAUNDRY DRYER AND PROBABLY FORGOT TO TAKE YO STUPID ASS OUT. PROBABLY WHY YO HAIR WHITE AND SMALL AS SHIT YA UGLY ASS LUCKY CHARMS LOOKING ASS CRACK FEENY. If you don't hop yo ass back under a rainbow with dem skinny ass broken heel lookin ass tap dancing shoes.

Victor, bruh, they dem did yo ass so dirty in the new adventures. I ain't gonna lie that new suit kinda ok. But you looking like a whole skeleton and shit. Lookin like a young Palpatine & shit. Ol Frisky dingo looking ass! Need to put those goggles back on. The least yo (spoiler) 2003 Baxter Stockman ass can do now.

Yo ass probably looking mad as shit cus ya can't jack it no more n**ga. Dats all gon now. Long with yo unloyal ass wife. How tf she gon bounce on you after everything you did for her? After all the years and bull you had to put up with & she leave yo cold ass for another nibba? Fuck DCAU Nora. Just fuck her.

Scarface lookin like a damn Fanboy & Chum Chum character & his boy over here lookin like Chode. Next.

UUUUUUUUUUGGGHHHHHGG.

Just. UAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHH. Bruh I will never understand who tf thought this shit was a good idea?! Like who the fuck, was drawing dis nigga. Drew DIS Sus af shit. LOOKED at dis shit. And said to deyself: "Yeah dats da Riddler aight". HELL TO THE NAH DAT AIN'T NO DAMN DAS A (dick) FIDDLER! HE LOOKIN SUS AS FUCK NOW WITH THEM TIGHT AS GREEN SPANDEX AND THAT DARK AS HELL EYELINER. Looking like gay Christmas elf! Looking like a gay ass ballay dancer with them Spider Gwen ballerina shoes. You can't dance for shit nigga! Yo shit is SOOO DAMN TIGHT like I can get a good sight and shape picture of yo "Question mark" I'm telling y'all. sSSSUUUSSSSSSS. Looking like a bigasss lima bean. Skinny ass Jack skeleton moFucka. Like. They did my boy Eddy so freakin dirty with this. My mans had class, style, a nice look, HAIR. Now he. Whateverthelivingfuckdisbaldasspeterpanlookinmofuckasupposestobe. And i hate how that's how he did be lookin in almost every new Batverse when why tho? Nigg(m)a look stupid as hell. How tf he expect to be tooken seriously dressed and lookin like dis ? If I saw dis fucker in real life and he threatens me, imma laugh at his ass and beat him with his cane. Get ya Richard from Allen Gregory looking ass away from me. I can't!

Bruh it don't look that much but they did my mans Harvey dirty too. LOOK AT MY MANS FACE. good half i mean. Yall nigs kno. THESE MUHFUCKERS STRIPPED HIM OF HIS PRETTYNESS! Man. Dis version of Harvey was a pretty muhfucka. You can't deny dat shit

Even when he became Two-Face he still got dat 1 side of pretty. And that deep af panty soaking voice to go along w it. He dat half and half package.

Now HE LOOK LIKE DIS

WHOEVER TF DID DIS NEED DEY ASS WHOOPED! SQUARE TF UP NOW. NIGGA LOOKS LIKE EYEBROWLESS VERSION OF DOC FROM SECRET SATURDAYS. FAT ASS BLOCK NOSE MUH FUCKA. His eye looks like traingle with a Nike logo on top of it. Lookin like a poorly drawn Dwayne The Rock Johnson. And ya other half ain't lookin that good either. Dat 1 eyebrow putting Helga Pataki to shame! I mean the shit didn't look good before but it was somewhat tamed, now the shit looking like full grownass caterpillar. And that lip black as hell. Kno that side dirty as fuuhck!

I don't even know what tf I'm sposed to say about DIS except (kinky..)

Angelica pickles looking ass. Bigass blonde captain coconut looking ass hairstyle. Looking like a blonde creepy ass Wednesday Adams. Dem black as fuck Kim possible lips. She actually looking like a family guy character with that bigass head and small body. I SWEAR she ded looking like one of Stewie's ex's right now my dude! Got tiny ass flat ass guitar chip shoes. Looks like sis wearing fucking Zippers as shoes. Sis got that "i got something planned fo yo ass" smile. Sis look like she plotting something or did some evil shit already.

. . .

Bros I'm sorry but I'm just as confused as you like. I can't find a single thing different about Harley. Like literally nothing. Her makeup at night be looking blue sometimes, looking like a fakeass Livewire, but nah. They didn't even touch homegirl. Why tf is Harley the only character that stayed the same?????! Niggas was playing favorites. They had plans for that ass since day one. They was probs like: "Aye y'all. DO NOT TOUCH HARLEY. SHE STAYS THE SAME!" "why?" "JUST LISTEN TO ME BITCH!" "Wha bout her mans?" "Oh hell yeah fuck his shit up!" ...sigh.. Yep. It's that time...

UaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHH what else is dere to be said about dis ugly ass nigga? Dis nigga look like Yakko Warner & Freakazoid's love child! Dis nigga look like a random Tiny toons or Animaniac character! With that dookie green shirt and flower. You and Riddler's gay ass both matching them Dexter's laboratory Gloves. Why tf yo eyes eyes black as fuck tho?! How tf does one do that to theyself?! Yo ass probably snorted some shit and ya shits expanded and that's prolly yo pupils with ya cracked out ass. Nigga don't even look like a clown no more. Hell Jared Leto Joker atleast had the lipstick down. Dis nigga got dem ashy ass lips hanging out. Nigga think he owning too. Nigga you don't own shit! Broke as hell now. And yo design broke too. Joker? Man more like Broker. Got dat fairly odd parents hair. Got that Cosmo and Wanda in one. Like bitch if you don't. Just like Riddler i can not take yo animaniac looking ass serious. You do not scare me bitch! Bye!

Now see dis? DIS is Aight! A lot more fitting and & faithful to the character. No over the fucking top redesign, you can actually tell it's the same damn character as before, a little bit of swag for personality

So that's the tea. Ivy & Croc are the only good rogue redesigns in the whole series, evBody else ugly as shit.

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brooklynislandgirl · 3 years

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📝 for the answering of applicable questions, please!

~Quietly, in the Lower Garden District~

~Colour~

The man behind the counter is ready to reach over and strangle her. She can see it in his expression, so put upon by each time she shakes her head and asks if she can have another sample made. She almost wishes he would try, he'd lose more than the hour that she's been at this. That might be uncharitable of her but the man reminds her of the kind of person who, when not wearing his little vest, is exactly the kind of person who sees Beth and Anakin walking down the street together and curls a lip, makes passing commentary to other middle-age white guys. Too poor, too weird, too questionably ethnic to suit them. The kind of person who would walk faster when it got dark, or would lock up before they could make it to a door. There's more of those than either one of them care to acknowledge, and the irony is almost delicious. Except that sometimes Anakin cannot help but to be very aware of that kind of prejudice and it really takes another chunk out of his self-confidence.

"Allow me to explain again," she says softly, in crisp and enunciated haole. "I said I want a very specific shade of blue. A hint of royal with a tinge of cadet number five. Then mix at the edges a touch of Prussian and just enough Turkish Steel to give that depth soft edges. Then overly sky atop it all. Or better yet, please find me a customer service specialist who can, in fact, understand what I am looking for because clearly? You're not it." That might be her fault, she does want to paint the living room the exact shade of Anakin's eyes.

~Song~

She doesn't play as well as Andy could, and she would never be a singer though she enjoyed it maybe because it was more about intent than execution, one of the few things that held true in absolute. And sometimes neither one really mattered when he folded himself up like an envelope just so he could rest his head against her chest and instead of plucking strings, she only ran fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes and she focuses hers across the back yard. Beyond the pool and past the grass. Colours blur and fade and there's a ripple of dissonance within the Tapestry to make a boundary between what is solid and inflexible and what is hidden in a space outside of the Tellurian. Words they don't use in every day conversation. She isn't quite singing now instead humming a tune that would reveal more than maybe they're ready to dive into. Other words they don't use, either. Her palm comes to rest on his brow as tender as she knows how. The other reaches around him to tuck one of the knitted blankets around him. He doesn't seem to mind the combination of warmth between herself and the acrylic, is maybe the only other person who could be cold in anything else less than 80 degrees and 90% humidity. It takes an infinite amount of patience, skill, and mana to redirect the rain to a different part of the city. He'll forgive her weariness even if he doesn't understand why she will go to bed early, sleep in late. And that's okay. He doesn't need to know. It's better if he doesn't, it would spoil the gift. 'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home.

~Scent~ The balcony door is open letting muggy air move sluggishly in through the French doors. Beneath her the bed is a little too stiff for comfort. Her laptop almost too warm as it rests on her thighs and only serves to remind her that she should probably get out of the charcoal grey suit she's wearing. She closes the screen and pulls her glasses off, raising them so they rest in her hair. Takes a sip of the wine she'd bought at...some store she won't remember the name of... but that came recommended by the bellhop.

She didn't have the forethought before leaving for Baton Rouge to steal borrow something to bring along. For reasons that she didn't want to explain because there's no very polite way to explain she's grown used to having him sleep beside her. That there's something soothing that comes wafting up from his skin the closer he gets, arm wrapped around her, leg half thrown over. At the end of a day there's his natural chemistry that mixes with clean laundry and cigarette smoke, something sweet and spicy from his preferred night cap. Sometimes there's blood. Sometimes the distinct smell of wood or metal from something he's working on for himself, the kind of tinkering that seems to bring him peace like nothing else can. There isn't an exact name for it but she can recognise it at a thousand paces. It makes her want to burrow furtively into his chest cavity and find some way to live inside of that newly hollowed out space. Maybe just thinking about it was all she needed. Maybe it's some new kind of magick trick. Regardless, she'd managed to doze off just long enough to be startled when the door of her hotel room clicks shut and he's there. Pulled out of her day dreams and turned into flesh. With exactly the kind of apologetic grin she's become as familiar with as she is the smell of him. "Guess, I jus' couldn't sleep." And she knows there's more going on behind the sheepish look, and the way he stands at a polite distance away, maybe waiting for permission. She doesn't say a word. Only turns down the previously pristine other side of the bed before slipping from hers. The white silk blouse hits the floor seconds before she disappears into the bathroom.

~Meme~ She eyes Anakin. Looks at her phone. Back and forth for five solid minutes before she just starts giggling. Which turns into a laugh.

~Sound~ It's those little sub-vocalisations that get her. Every near guttural groan, every single one of those breathless whimpers that cling to the edges of her senses soft as cobwebs or hard as thunder. There are so many layers between them, so much context to be drawn from even a half of a sigh. They are a siren song even if she doesn't know what rocks he wants her to dash herself on.

~Setting~

She cringes. "I don' wanna tell ya." He's helping her work on a psychological profiling assessment that's required of her continuing education class, which is all part of her professional development. But she's worried because it's going to sound incredibly racist, coming as it is not from a white-passing woman of colour but one of incredible privilege who absolutely knows what it's going to sound like. But she cannot resist the look of self-accusation and anxiety that creeps into his micro-expressions and doing anything else would feel incredibly dishonest. Something she doesn't want to foster in him. "Somewhere 'round sunset. Da bayou waddah look like it on fire. Dere's some soft Zydeco music goin' on in da backdrop. Air's hot an' heavy like steam 'tween lovers an' if ya real quiet, can hear da bayou jus' come alive wi' oddah souls. Dere's pirogues bobbin' along, an' you can smell some ono grindz cookin' somewhere. Spanish moss all hangin' down from cypress an' willow trees. A mixture of old spirituals an' dat beautiful, melodic pidgin dat get spoke down dere...I know is nevah really li'dat.... also make me t'ink of witch blood an' Mokole dat pass as gators... all dem ghosts an' da kine ya nevah can put ya finger on but dat give ya chicken skin jus' t'inkin' 'bout..." ~Fashion Style~

Clothes litter her floor. Flung without a care to their resting places. Some on the edge of her bed or the arm of a chair. Suits and jeans and tee-shirts. Undergarments and socks. Like some small hurricane exploded out of the closet, just with less water. There's sarongs too. Luau shirts that just aren't him. Shoes too. Finally, she steps back and examines her handiwork. A frame work of satin boxers that will caress the most delicate parts of him without bunching or pinching. An accent of which are picked up in the suit lapels and bow tie. White shirt, black buttons. Silver cuff-links. Socks that are thin as a Friday night prayer, and absolutely voluptuous Paolo Scafora oxfords in a blue so dark they look black at first glance, polished to a mirror gloss. Dior and Stefano Ricci. Famous labels from famous houses of style.

If the gala wasn't required...Anakin wouldn't be seeing the light of day and there'd be very different reasons the clothes would be laying scattered about.

But she kind of also misses that scruffy plain, slightly tattered tee-shirt and skinny jeans even she would have a hard time getting up past her own hips, and questionably aged converse. Aesthetically speakin, Anakin is ever clothing designer's wet dream and she has never wanted to be a circular scarf more in her life. "Wow. Jus'....wow." ~Feeling~

"Belonging."

It's all she says before she kisses him. Softly and sweetly, a little wet from a stray tear that slips down between their lips. Admitting this is admitting that maybe, just maybe, she loves him, too. Which puts a countdown on everything. Which means that he's going to find the wherewithal to leave her and to take with him every that makes her feel even the littlest bit real. She doesn't know if she'll survive the loss, so it's best that she make the most of it before he goes. ~Animal~ "If you were one dem changing breeds? You'd be a were-fossa. Dey are dese medium sized ....well. Dey kinda look like cats, but also...dey don't. Related to da civet but also like...mongooses. Mongeese? Wha'evah. Dey from Madagascar. Da Malagasy got kapu of a kind an' actually are sorta afraid of dem, an' wi' good reason...dey carnivorous ay-eff." She glances over. "Don' laugh! Dey beautiful an' rare an' I really like dem a lot. An' I'm not gonna tell ya any more about dem. Gonna make a new animal, an' call it a' Anakin." There is every possibility that she will do this. Some day.

~Holiday~ Christmas. It will always be Christmas. Not the lights and snow and carollers, though there's plenty of that to go around. Not the chill and dank air, not the interminably long night, not even because of gifts. It's not a childhood of Santa surfing or canoeing, and it isn't sandcastles and malasadas left by the lanai doors from Hawai'i, either. Maybe it's a touch of the peace and goodwill often associated with the season, and how he came to find her when he needed her the most. But if she had to give just one reason, it's that he brought her back a sense of wonder that she'd thought was lost when her world had shattered. He took something terrible and turned it into something beautiful. That isn't an ordinary, every day kind of magick and she doesn't know how she will ever be able to express her love and gratitude for him.

"Wha'ya t'ink about mebbe da Bahamas dis year? Get out of da city for a lil while, I promise I won' make ya go for da beach."

~Season~

When Beth thinks of seasons, she thinks of it being a mainland phenomenon. Her own islands only really have two: Kau from May to October, where everything is beautiful and averages about 85 degrees give or take, and Ho'oilo from November to April when the best tides bring in the biggest waves. It's only cooler by about ten degrees. Which is maybe why she always feels so cold so far away from home. And why she likes it here so much. She knows other places have as many as six seasons, broken up into more agricultural and solar tied patterns of weather and climate and sometimes even just spiritual nature. But taking all of Anakin into account, she would have to say... "Monsoon. It's da time of life-giving rains. But also it can be dangerous for the same reason. Cool but lingers along your skin. An' it's somet'ing I keep wi' me always, waitin' for it."

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hookedonapirate · 3 years

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Sneak Peek—Through the Rising Tide

(changed title from Lay By Me)

Summary:

The Jones brothers are polar opposites. Liam's the safe and honorable one, straight-laced and straight as an arrow. The good son.

Killian's the dangerous one, the bad boy with tats, leather jackets, a motorcycle, and a questionable past.

The only things they have in common are panty-melting sea-blue eyes, the flat they share in Storybrooke and a rare blood type.

Oh, and apparently their taste in women.

Or rather, one woman.

Feisty.

Blonde.

Gorgeous.

Green-eyed Goddess.

Killian saw her first, but she chose his brother-the nice guy over the playboy. And even though she's dating his brother, it doesn't make him want her any less. If that's not bad enough, she moves in with them and he has to pretend he's not completely in love with her. His life could not get any worse...

Until Liam dies in a motorcycle accident.

Leaving each of them with one half of a broken heart.

Now Killian and Emma are left helping each other pick up the pieces.

Just as they're beginning to learn how to live in their new reality, another riptide pulls them further in the deep end when she finds out she's pregnant with Liam's baby.

A/N: So I made this post the other day, and then this fic happened. If you haven't seen it, please read the summary before starting this story or becoming invested because it’s very angsty. First of all, this starts out as Swan Jewel? I don't know what their ship name is or if there is an official name, but yes, Liam and Emma are in a relationship in the beginning. I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, so read the summary first because this excerpt doesn't hint at a Liam and Emma relationship or what will happen. It just takes place further into the chapter and I didn’t want to give too much away.

This story was inspired by Baby Mine by Kennedy Fox and I loved the book so much and thought it was very much underrated. I’ve wanted to write a fic like this for a long time now because it’s one of my favorite tropes, but after I read that book, I just had to write my own take. Also, I made this post about a Baby Yodarita drink last year when it was trending and since the beginning of this story starts one year prior, 2019 and since Killian is a bartender, it was a perfect way to include the prompt.

“Hey Jones, can I get two Blue Ribbons?” his good mate calls over the blaring music.

Killian chuckles and grabs the desired beers, popping off the caps before handing them over. “Taking it easy tonight?” he asks, leaning against the counter and gripping the edge with both hands.

“Aye. Regina doesn’t like the hard stuff. She’s more of a wine person.”

“Ah, I see.” Killian nods; he can definitely see that about Regina. He doesn’t want to say this to one of his best mates, but the lass can be a little stuck up and quite bossy at times. She makes Robin happy though, so he keeps his mouth shut.

He chats with him for a few minutes, finally getting a few minutes of reprieve. As Robin heads back to his girlfriend, Killian takes the opportunity to wipe down the bar top. But before he’s finished, someone approaches the counter. His eyes are still trained on his task, but he can’t miss the long blonde hair and fantastic cleavage, seeing as the view is directly in front of him. “What can I get you?” he asks, throwing on his most charming grin as he lifts his head.

His smile is cemented on his face the second he looks up and sees her face.

Killian’s accustomed to seeing pretty women entering his brother’s bar and parading around in clothes that barely cover their essential parts.

Yet nothing in the world could’ve prepared him for the woman standing in front of him on the other side of the bar counter.

No, not woman.

Goddess.

Emerald green eyes, soft pink lips curved into a shy smile, smooth creamy skin, long golden hair cascading over her shoulders.

Good.

God.

She’s breathtaking.

Stunning.

“What would you recommend?” she asks in a teasing tone.

Fuck.

Her voice is that of an angel’s. Pure and sweet and innocent.

She looks like everything he doesn’t deserve but wants every fucking part of.

“Uh… I um…” he stutters, scratching nervously behind his ear. He can’t form a cohesive sentence as he looks into those hypnotizing eyes. He wants to get lost in them. “What are you… what are you in the mood for, love?” he finally musters, adding another one of his signature grins. “I can make you anything your heart desires.” What he wants to say is, “I can give you anything your heart desires,” but even that may not be true. As gorgeous as she is, he’s afraid he wouldn’t be the man she deserves. He’s never been the guy women like to take home to their parents, anyway. He’s the guy chicks like to have around for a good time before they eventually settle into a serious relationship with Mr. Perfect. He’s definitely no Mr. Perfect, more like a Good Luck Chuck, but at the moment, he feels like he could be fucking Superman for this woman. And he's only exchanged a few words with her so far.

She arches a brow, and it’s literally the most adorable and sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed in his life. “Anything?”

He senses a challenge in her tone. “Try me,” he encourages.

She bites her bottom lip in thought.

He lied. Now that’s the most adorable and sexist thing he’s ever witnessed.

“What if I said I wanted a Baby Yodarita?”

He arches a brow, very much intrigued. “A Baby Yodarita? Never heard of it.”

She laughs, and the sound is music to his ears. “That's because I made up the name. But I figured it would be a green drink that looks like baby Yoda.”

“So, I take it you’re a Star Wars fan?”

“Are you a bartender?”

Just as he answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, since he’s behind the bar serving drinks, he catches her drift and flashes a smirk.

Could this woman be any hotter? And yes, as he’s asking this question in his head, he’s picturing Chandler Bing and the way he would say it, emphasizing the word, be. Gods, he hates that he knows that about Friends. He hates that he actually likes that show.

“You don't really have to be a Star Wars fan to be a baby Yoda fan, though. He's so cute, he's trending on the internet, haven't you seen?”

He chuckles. “Aye, who hasn't?”

She plants her hand on her hip, donning a sultry smirk. “So, are you up for the task, or not?”

He licks his lips and leans over the bar counter, his eyes locked with hers. He wants to ask her if she fell from heaven. Or if he died and went to heaven. But he has a feeling cheesy lines wouldn't work on a woman like her. “I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific as to what task you’re referring to.” But who the fuck is he kidding? There is nothing he could do for her he would consider a task.

Only a pleasure.

Blush paints her cheeks and she leans over, meeting him halfway until her face is mere inches from his. “I have a few in mind… but how ‘bout that drink, first?”

Bloody. Fuck-ing. Hell.

Her voice is a mixture of sweet and seductive. He doesn’t know how she manages to pull off a combination like that. His eyes drop to her lips and he’s seriously considering kissing the holy fuck out of her over the bar counter, audience be damned. He almost groans just thinking about her soft, luscious looking lips pressed against his, but he swallows the sound before it leaves his throat.

He lifts his eyes to hers. “Sit tight, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” she says with a smile and takes a seat on a barstool. “Oh, and a Cosmo for my sister-in-law.”

“Coming right up.” It takes every ounce of strength within him to pull away, but somehow he does.

He has to take slow, deep breaths to peel his mind from the fantasies he’s already having of him and the blonde temptress watching him intently as he prepares her drink.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs sneak peak #swan jewel #frienship #healing #forced roommates #roommates to bedmates #pregancy #Lay by Me #Hannah writes

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