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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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Yellow Carnations (Destiny Written in Begonias Part 1)

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Summary: After hearing something deep within the woods, you give into curiosity and investigate. Who knows, whatever you find could be a prize.

Warnings: Swearing, slightly graphic violence (just some zombies getting dismembered)

Word count: 3,715

(A/N): So, welcome to my new series! I have so many ideas for this that I’d love to write. This story will be very gay, fluffy, and sorta angsty, so buckle up my children!

So just a lil background info: the reader is Techno’s adopted daughter. She is a piglin hybrid, but she is more human looking than piglin. This takes place about eighteen years after the most recent events of the SMP.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“Techno, I think we have enough ender pearls for tonight.” You glanced to your side to look at your father and Philza, the enchantments of their armor glowing dimly in the moonlight and the orange light of the torches in their hands. Philza stretched his body and his wings out, a small groan escaping his mouth and small cracks sounding from his joints.

“The night’s still young, Phil!” Technoblade grinned, his gold capped canines glinting slightly. His hand moved to gently rest on the handle of his sword.

You snorted to yourself, “you two, however, aren’t.” A small shove came from your side making you stumble slightly, laughter bubbling from your throat.

“I’m just going to pretend that I didn’t hear anything,” Philza crossed his arms and looked off to the side. Though, you could hear a smile in his tone and the beginnings of a chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled, “Dad set me up for that one. The opportunity was too good to pass up.”

“I’ll set you up for longer training sessions if you keep going for… ‘opportunities’ like that.” He glanced down at you with amusement glinting in his eyes and tugging at the corner of his lips.

His statement, though lighthearted, immediately made you stop laughing. You knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t joking; the last time you laughed it off you had to endure two extra hours on top of the four hour sessions you had daily. By the end of the punishment, your arms felt like they were going to fall off.

“No! I take it back, you guys are young! Not a single-”

“You’re digging yourself an early grave if you finish that sentence, kid. Besides, you can’t pass up opportunities like these!”

“I think I’m good for now,” you shivered slightly when a breeze blew past you. It was starting to grow colder as the night dragged on. Technoblade, noticing this, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him securely. Though the Blood God never shows mercy, he couldn’t let his only child succumb to a head cold; that’d just be barbaric.

You jumped at the feeling of the freezing netherite making contact with your bare arm. “Sorry,” he murmured sheepishly, “forgot how cold the armor is… We should probably head back, it’s getting cold.”

As your family started to make their way back towards the tundra, banter was exchanged between the three. The journey out of the forest was uneventful, only a few mobs had attempted to attack or sneak behind you. Just as you reached the edge of the forest, a noise caught your attention.

It sounded like it was only a couple of minutes away; so faint that if you weren’t actively listening for it, it would have nearly been lost in the night. If you strained your ears, you could hear the trampling of dry leaves making you assume that there were several people or animals in that area. Alongside it, there was a faint whimpering.

Your curiosity was piqued, just what was making that noise?

“(Y/n), is everything alright?” You looked back at Philza. It seemed that they walked a bit away from you while you stopped at the forest’s edge to listen to the sound.

You absentmindedly nodded, “yeah, Uncle Phil. I think I left my bow back in that clearing when we were taking a break so I’m just going to go grab that. You guys can keep going home, I’ll be right behind you.”

“We can go with you-”

“No, you don’t have to. I’m old enough to go alone.”

Philza and Technoblade then spoke at the same time, “alright, we’ll just meet you there.” “Absolutely not.”

Philza elbowed Technoblade’s side lightly and looked up at him. They were silently communicating with pointed looks and pursed lips, every expression understood completely by the other. You never understood how they did that, even if they raised you. You could remember making a journal dedicated to deciphering their expressions, but you never could truly understand it (that, and ‘nose scrunch and eye narrow’ meant multiple things).

Eventually, Technoblade’s shoulders slumped and he ran a hand down his face tiredly, “you know the rules?”

You rolled your eyes, “of course I do. Fight to win, go for the throat, if you lose your weapon go for the pressure points. You remind me daily.”

He stared at you for a moment before his ear flicked, “don’t take long, we’ll be waiting.” They both turned and started to trudge towards the spruce forest in the distance.

Without a second thought, you ran into the forest with your ears perked. Following the noise was easy, the whimpers had turned into high pitched whines. You leapt over stumps and ducked under low hanging branches as they blocked your way; nothing was going to stop you from finding out what was making that noise.

Eventually, you broke through the trees and found yourself in a grassy clearing surrounded by large stones. If it were spring, you’d imagine wildflowers sprouting everywhere you stepped. A small spring sat in the furthest corner of it, waterfalls cascading over the jagged stones and crashing into the water below. Near the cliffside, a hoard of groaning zombies swarmed something and they were closing in on it. Now, what was it they were attacking?

You quickly unsheathed your golden sword and sprinted towards the hoard. The crunching of the dried, colorful leaves under your feet was enough to drag the zombies’ attention to you.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you made your first swipe at one of their torsos. In an instant, the zombie was bisected and fell to the ground. With a twirl, you slashed at multiple zombies at once. They all collapsed to the ground as their rotting flesh was torn and couldn’t support their crumbling bodies any longer.

As soon as all of the zombies were laying dead on the ground, you wiped your blade off on one of their torn tunics and sheathed it. Taking a step back to look at the bodies littered on the floor, you smirked; this was too easy.

Now, without the obstacles, your prize awaits you. Eagerly, you looked over to see what the zombies were swarming. Instead of the scared villager you were expecting, the person that stood there completely took your breath away.

The woman was wearing a simple white dress with a baby blue shawl shadowing the upper part of her face. Her skin was fair and her face was round, a button nose laid in the center of her face and plump pink lips slightly parted showing off straight white teeth. Curly dark brown hair framed the sides of her face and spiraled down to rest on her shoulders.

She was tall for a human, about five-foot-ten if you were to estimate. Her hands moved to clasp in front of her elegantly, your eyes catching sight of light blue nailpolish decorating her perfectly shaped nails.

Red was starting to dust her cheeks and her breathing was starting to return to normal. That was good, at least she wasn’t going into shock. For someone who nearly got eaten alive by the undead, she looked relatively calm and well put together.

“Are you alright?” You tried to keep your voice even, but there was a light wobble to it. You thickly swallowed, cursing yourself for showing any emotion in front of this stranger. The mask that hid the upper part of your face gave you a sense of security and safety, it hid most of your emotion.

You saw her lips move, but no sound came out. Were you going deaf like your father? You shouldn’t be; you haven’t blown up an entire nation yet. You stepped closer in hopes of hearing her better, “excuse me?”

Her lips curled up into a smile, dimples appearing on her cheeks, “Oh, I just said that I’m fine, nothing else. May I get the name of my knight in shining armor?”

Her voice was soft and light. Though it was on the deeper side, it had feminine, euphonious undertones; it was like honey was dripping out with every word she spoke. Just by the way she spoke, you assumed that she came from the nearby kingdom.

You smirked, playing along with the small game she was setting up. Stepping closer and kneeling, you grabbed her hand and brought it to your lips. Her hands were soft and velvety, a part of you longed to hold it in yours all day long.

Against her knuckles, you spoke, “(Y/n) Blade at your service. And you, my fairest lady?”

“Princess Helen Dahlia Eret, but please, call me Dahlia; Helen was my mother. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

You snorted, she was really dedicated to this game. You’d just play along with her, why not? It’s not like you have anything else to do. “Well, princess, it’s about time for you to head back to your castle.”

You looked up at her through your eyelashes and caught sight of the outline of her shadowed features. You could see her purse her lips, “you think I’m lying, don’t you?”

“Forgive me for thinking so, your highness!” You snickered, “the princess shall not step foot outside of her chambers, lest a scrape shall mar her flawless skin!”

She smirked before placing a delicate finger underneath your chin, tilting it upwards. You could feel your face grow hot as she removed her shawl. Ivory white eyes stared back at you smugly, sending a shock through your body. You weren’t sure if the jolt you felt was from her beauty or from the fact that she wasn’t lying.

“Would you like to try again, my knight?” She cooed to you, her other hand coming down to rest on your cheek. You stood up and gaped at her, “oh fuck, you’re actually the princess.”

A part of you wanted to dislike her for her title and for the royal blood that coursed through her veins. That blood tainted her, filling every nook and cranny with vile corruption. “All governments are bad,” Technoblade had taught you early on in your life, “they should, under no circumstances, be trusted.”

Though her parent Eret had been a fair king, always attending to the needs of their people, you were anticipating their corruption. If your memory serves you right, they were the one that betrayed the revolutionaries during the L’manberg Revolution simply because of their thirst for power. If they were a power hungry traitor before, who’s to say that they won’t be blinded by it again?

Every fiber in your body screamed at you to sink your sword through her abdomen to put her down, just like the bloodthirsty hounds that hailed long before her. You could just end her right now, make it quick and just leave her body here. It’d be easy and it would bring chaos to the SMP Kingdom, causing mass paranoia and tearing it apart from within. It’d be delicious, something that would give you a high you’d ride for years. You wanted to paint the grass with her blood, but something deep within you protested.

Filthy blood nourished her body, but that didn’t take away from her sheer and complete beauty or the way she covered her mouth with a delicate hand to hide her laugh. That did not take away from how she had cupped your cheek moments before, your skin still tingled where her hand was. That didn’t suppress the butterflies that fluttered wildly in your stomach when she stepped into the moonlight.

She put her hand out and smiled, “won’t you accompany me to my castle, my faithful warrior?” You merely put on a cold, uncaring facade and side stepped her.

“...You got yourself here, yes? You can find your way back.”

“Well you see,” she moved to rub the back of her neck and awkwardly chuckled, “I was hoping you know the way back?”

You couldn’t stop the snort that escaped your mouth, something about her made her irresistible. “You’ve got to be kidding me, you just ran blindly into a forest?”

“Hey, you would too if you were being chased by zombies!”

“Excuse me, who was the one that just slaughtered said zombies in under a minute?” You raised an eyebrow and looked down at her.

“I don’t have a sword like you do,” she crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at you.

“Even then, I doubt you know how to use one. Here,” you unsheathed the large sword and held it out to her, “I bet you can’t even hold it up.”

“Can too!” She protested before snatching the sword out of your hands. She grunted slightly at the heavy weight, almost dropping it, but she quickly steadied it. Looking up at you with a smug, slightly reddened face, she shook slightly. “See? It’s not that hard.”

You quirked an eyebrow beneath your mask, “oh really?”

“Y-yep,” was all she managed to choke out before she stepped back and dropped the tip. It swung down and buried itself inside the dirt below, scouring the earth as it made contact.

Smirking at her, you took it back with ease, putting it back into its sheath slung around your back. You once again stepped around her and started walking in the other direction.

“Where are you going?!”

“To the castle, you said you wanted me to take you home.”

She rushed to your side and grabbed your arm with both of her hands. They snaked around your bicep and tangled themselves in your cape. You could feel yourself soar at the contact; you had to fight against every instinct to hook your arm with hers. You ripped yourself out of her embrace and put some distance between the both of you.

She crossed her arms and hugged herself, shivering slightly, “how are you not cold?!”

“It’s barely cold out here,” you mentally scolded yourself for being a hypocrite, “you’ll be fine.”

She said nothing and continued to walk. As you got further and further into the forest, she merely started shivering more. You could hear her teeth chattering loudly and could see goosebumps decorating the skin on her bare arms. Sighing, you unhooked your cape and slung it over her shoulders.

She squeaked in surprise at the feeling before realizing that you gave her your cape. She grabbed the edges and pulled it closer to her before snuggling deeper into the cloth; you could feel your heart explode at the small sigh that she let out and the content hum that left her mouth. Just as she looked up at you, you made quick work of looking away. The ground was very fascinating at the moment.

“Thank you,” she murmured. You just curtly nodded, avoiding looking at her.

The walk to the castle was short, luckily she hadn’t run far from her home. Just as the castle walls were in your sights, she tried holding your arm again. Once again, you stepped away from her.

“C’mon,” she chuckled, “I don’t bite.”

“Well I do. You really need to learn not to trust a stranger, princess.”

“Well, we aren’t strangers. We know each other’s names, do we not? And besides, I bet you’re just a massive teddy bear.”

“I don’t know what your teddy bears looked like as a kid, but they certainly weren’t me. If I wanted to, I could take your hand clean off with a single twist and pull,” you growled out. She was silent once more as she led you towards a specific part of the castle.

“...Why are you so defensive? At least treat me like you did before we knew each other!” She unhooked the cape and shoved it towards you. You gladly took it and put it back on. To your sheer embarrassment, you felt joy as you caught a whiff of books and expensive perfume. It smelled like her.

“...I could’ve just left you back there if I wanted to, consider this a favor. Respect is earned, not given. Even to royalty.”

You turned to leave, you cape swishing behind you as you turned. Before you could walk off, a hand on your arm stopped you. “Wait. Even if you’re a massive jerk,” she sighed out, “I still have to thank you. So, thank you for saving my life; I’m indebted to you, my douchey knight.”

She leant up on the tips of her toes and gently placed her lips on your cheek. You froze and watched as she turned on her heel. She walked towards the entrance with several glances back at you, some of them being smug and others being questioning. It was like you were entranced underneath the veil of a spell, unable to move until she disappeared from sight.

The walk home was quiet with no mobs sneaking up on you. The entire time, the memory of her kissing your cheek replayed endlessly in your head. Though the very thing you disliked more than anything was embodied in her, you couldn’t help but fall for the natural charm she had. You were probably just tired, it was getting late into the night after all.

As you walked through the door, you could see Technoblade impatiently waiting for you on the couch. He had a book open in his hand and his half-rimmed glasses were perched on the bridge of his snout.

“You’re late.”

“Sorry, I just ran into more mobs than I anticipated.”

Technoblade said nothing as his eyes flickered over your body, looking for even the smallest of scrapes. When he didn’t find anything, he nodded to himself and stood up. Tiredly, he walked over to you and ruffled your hair before trudging to his room.

“Are you sure the only thing you ran into was mobs?”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “just a lot of zombies.”

He rolled his eyes and gave you a knowing smile before walking over to you. He swiped his thumb across your cheek and showed it to you. It was stained with a light pink color. “In all of the centuries I spent living in this world, not once have I seen a zombie wearing pink lipstick or,” he took your cape in his hand and sniffed it slightly, “cherry scented perfume.”

Your face exploded in heat as you made hasty work of scrubbing your cheek making the older man laugh quietly at you, “all you’re doing is smudging it all over your face. Some warm water and soap will get it off fast… Now, wanna tell me who gave you that?”

You stared at his smug expression and quickly came to the realization that he wouldn’t let this go unless you told him. Or, at least until you told him what happened.

You sighed and started to remove your armor, placing it on the armor stand situated between Philza’s and Technoblade’s armor. You had insisted that the armor stands were in this specific order, it just made sense with the height differences between the members of the household. Since you were between Philza’s and Technoblade’s height at 6’4 (and still growing), it made sense with the order of the armor in terms of size.

You made your way over to the couch and sat down with a sigh, Philza following suit. He gave you a reassuring smile, “whenever you’re ready.”

So you told him everything that had happened that day. Needless to say, Philza was happy for you, asking you questions about the interaction.

“It sounds like she’s perfect for you, kiddo.”

“That’s the thing, Uncle Phil. She isn’t,” you ran a hand down your face and leaned back onto the back of the couch, your head resting on the top of the cushion. You heard Philza shift slightly before he grabbed your hand.

“Now,” he asked gently, “what makes you think that?”

“She’s King Eret’s daughter. Helen Dahlia Eret,” you sardonically chuckled, “I really thought she was just joking when she said ‘princess’.” Every part of you wished that that was a joke. That she would laugh and tell you that it was part of the game she was playing. But no, she just had to be royalty.

“Eret’s better than most, they are a good king,” he reminded you.

“Still, there’s royal blood in her. She’s actively a part of a government… I wanted to kill her on the spot; hell everything in my body was screaming at me to slaughter her, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

“Sometimes, someone is more than the blood inside of them; maybe she isn’t as bad as you think she is. Someone could be born into a family of saints and still destroy everything they touch. On the other hand, someone could be born surrounded by the lowest of humanity and grow up to become the best person you’ll ever meet. You have to understand that blood isn’t everything to a person’s character.”

You didn’t say anything, contemplating what he said. She didn’t seem like someone to rule with an iron fist, and neither did her parent. Tubbo was the first person to come to mind. He was raised by a malicious, tyrannical idiot, a man that had valued absolute power and booze over anything else. Your uncle turned out to be the most caring person you’ve ever met, always making sure that those around him are in a good mood even if he himself wasn’t.

However, it’s best to be cautious of somebody. Your mind flashed back to Wilbur and Dream, the two men rotting away in Pandora’s Vault together until either their time alive is up or time itself expires. They were charismatic and kind on the outside, but on the inside, they are two of the most heinous men you’ve ever met.

It seemed like your mind was running in circles, bouncing between both conclusions like it was being slammed between two surfaces.

“...Do you think you’ll see her again?” Philza asked you, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles and squeezing it comfortingly when you didn’t respond immediately.

You sighed, standing up and walking out of the room, “if the odds are in our favor, we won’t see each other any time soon.”

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Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

#philza x reader #technoblade x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #destiny written in begonias #female reader #x reader #wlw reader #tw: swearing #tw: violence

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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 299: No Chains Left

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “and then AFO broke out all of the inmates from six other prisons and took a nap. well anyways, here’s the hospital angst.” Kacchan woke up two days later and was all, “WAIT BUT HOW ARE DEKU AND TODOROKI AND ALL OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS EXCEPT IIDA DOING” and then we cut to Shouto’s room where the other U.A. kids were sitting around being Mutually Traumatized and giving each other moral support and such. Everyone was alll, “...”, and then the rest of the Todofam showed up, INCLUDING POSSIBLY REI?! which, omg. The chapter ended with Kacchan STOMPING THROUGH THE HALLS all “WHADDYA MEAN DEKU HASN’T WOKEN UP YET”, dragging along Satou and Mineta behind him, fueled by the power of ALL OF THE FUCKS HE NOW GIVES. He gives so many fucks now you guys. This boy cares so much he can probably deduct it on his taxes.

Today on BnHA: SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO GIVE A LOT OF FUCKS, the story cuts abruptly to Hawks, freshly recovering from his near-death experience, and pondering the threads that have weaved the tapestry of his life and led him to this moment. Basically he grew up in poverty with his Jerk Dad and Jerk Mom until his dad got arrested one day and his mom sent him off to go Find Money Or Something, and so he rescued a busload of people and found himself a new career. Back in the present day, Hawks and Jeanist ride around town in Jeanist’s Jamborghini having awkward encounters with civilians in a country on the brink of social collapse, and visiting Hawks’s mother’s home. Hawks is all “I know from an outsider’s perspective it must look like my life currently sucks, but now that the HPSC is gone, my public image is shot, and my parents are finally out of my life, I’m actually feeling SURPRISINGLY GOOD.” Anyway so he’s gonna go meet up with Endeavor now, and p.s. this chapter was fucking fantastic though, damn.

oh my god?? is this Hawks narration?? something about him growing up watching the heroes on TV and thinking of them as fictional characters

okay I scrolled down a little bit more to see the rest of that “Keigo” panel, and wow

this is basically a shed. poor boy definitely grew up rough. let me tell you guys, I came in here ready for some BakuDeku shenanigans; I was not prepared for Hawks Flashback Angst. I AM HERE FOR IT, but also wow I gotta brace myself now lol

HELLO MISTER HAWKS’S JERK DAD, SIR

BnHA sure does have an array of Jerk Dads, doesn’t it. makes me appreciate characters like Masaru and JirouDad all the more for bucking the trend

anyway. so Horikoshi, you really thought that one itty bitty chapter of hospital catharsis would be enough to calm us all before you went right back to showing us child abuse huh. my god man can we rest

BABY HAWKS

swear to god this kid can’t be more than five or six, and yet he has this completely blank look on his face even with his dad looming over him being all threatening and shit. like he’s shut down his emotions to protect himself. imagine what has to happen to a child for him to have learned this at such a young age. fuck

AND MEANWHILE THIS GUY

don’t mingle with humans?? not “other” humans, just humans?? what is this implying here?? and also holy shit Hawks definitely didn’t inherit his looks from his dad orz

then again he doesn’t really bear much of a resemblance to his strung-out mom here either

omg omg omg. and this child is basically trapped here in this environment with these two people. this explains a SHITLOAD about Hawks’s personality though you guys. his ability to completely separate his real thoughts from the face he presents to the outside world. his pragmatic approach to analyzing and solving problems. his layers of emotional walls. turns out almost none of that came from the HPSC training -- that was all learned hands-on in his own personal do-or-die survival nightmare childhood!! oh, boy

and small wonder then that he latched on to Endeavor so strongly if he really is the one who brought down his dad and inadvertently saved him from this. also, just putting this out there, I know people are always talking about him and Dabi being foils, and I think it’s very interesting how Touya grew up in a household where he saw firsthand the dark side of hero society, and so ended up becoming a villain in order to bring it down. whereas young Keigo had almost the exact opposite experience, growing up experiencing the dark side of villain society and becoming a hero in order to bring about a world where no one else has to experience that. just. both of them are so determined not to become their fathers. some interesting parallels there

so Hawks was sort of an accident after his parents had “thanks for helping me not get caught after I killed that guy” sex, and now this little boy is growing up in squalor and being beaten by his father for things like Sitting In The Wrong Out-Of-The-Way Corner Trying Not To Be A Bother To Anybody. holy fuck. this is so rough to read through you guys

wait so does Jerk Dad have a an eyeball manipulation quirk?? because he doesn’t have the wings like his son, but wth are these things??

this presumably also means that Keigo has never been to school or anything either. he basically doesn’t exist. he thinks heroes are fictional characters, he doesn’t realize that they’re real people. these are people who could help him if he could escape and find them, but he doesn’t know, and they don’t know about him

OH MY GOD HE’S JUST SITTING IN HIS CORNER HUGGLING HIS ENDEAVOR PLUSH OH MY GOD

how could this child possibly have an anti-fandom when he’s done NOTHING WRONG HIS ENTIRE LIFE. huh. just explain that to me. lol I mean I’m not looking to pick a fight with anyone, but also, MAYBE I AM, idk?? this kid has gotten me all riled up lmao

anyways, Protect Keigo 2021, and thank you Horikoshi for these three very terrible pages. I am pleased to inform you that you’ve effectively gotten your point across and you may now commence saving this kid already

YAY

oh no, Keigo’s dumbass jerk dad tried to steal a car and the popo nabbed his ass and now his mom can’t just sit around neglecting her VERY YOUNG SON all day long, oh horrors. sorry lady my tiny violin is on backorder. just imagine that I’m playing a very sarcastic song on it for you

anyway so what are you gonna do now, abandon him? I can hardly imagine he’d be worse off, if anything it might be a near-instant improvement

LMAO HE’S ALL “WAIT WHAT ENDEAVOR’S A REAL FUCKING DUDE?!”

AND THEY SAY THAT A HERO CAN SAVE US~~~~ I’M NOT GONNA STAND HERE AND WAAAAAIT~~~~~ I’LL HOLD ONTO THE WINGS OF THE EAGLES, WATCH AS WE ALL FLY AWAAAAAAY~~~~

lol what a randomly pivotal moment in his young life. TIME TO GO MAKE THESE MEMES INTO DREAMS YOUNG ONE

anyway so his mom freaked out and grabbed him and they wound up at a train station with her TELLING HIM TO GO GET HER SOME MONEY, oh my god. SURE MOM LEMME JUST WALTZ RIGHT ON DOWN TO THE “JOBS FOR FIVE-YEAR-OLDS” STORE AND TELL THEM I NEED SOME CASH. ffff manifesting someone to come help him in 3... 2...

...

SIGH, JUST GO RESCUE THE PEOPLE FROM THE BUS, KEIGO. is this the outfit he was wearing when that happened?? it must be, right?? I can’t imagine them surviving more than a couple days out here unless this starts getting REALLY dark in a way I know that even Horikoshi won’t explore, so yeah. cut to the HPSC now please. never thought we’d be glad to see them. I mean sure, it may be an “out of the frying pan...” case, but good god

THANK YOU!!

and I guess it was his mom’s eyeball quirk then. anyway, whatever, see you again never, hopefully. lol oh man. thaaaat, was upsetting. need to center myself here for a sec. NAMASTE

OH YAY THE PRESENT

so we cut from Baby Hawks Angst straight to Present Day Hawks Angst, huh. not that this exhausted and traumatized lil lad isn’t still a baby to me too, I’ll have you know

BEST JEANIST, ALWAYS WITH THE JOKES

“WHEW, THOUGHT YOU DIED ON ME FOR A SEC THERE KID.” lmao. Caleb will no doubt ruin this by making his word choice all stiffly formal as usual, so I’m just going to treasure this “WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, I’M FRESH OUT OF FUCKS” version of Jeanist while I can

look at him, driving his Jeanistmobile

again, is it any wonder Kacchan was bitching about Endeavor’s dinky little car when he was used to riding around town in style like this. anyone else staring at this panel trying to figure out how this car is somehow secretly made of jeans

NOOOOO

FUCK YOU DABI LMAO. PUTTING THESE VOICE ACTORS OUT OF A JOB ONE BY ONE

anyway so Jeanist is all “GOOD THING IT’S THE FUTURE AND WE’RE SO GOOD AT MEDICAL SCIENCE” to handwave how Hawks went from one step shy of being a very handsome corpse, to sitting around texting Jeanist in a car all of two days later

OH MY GOD, AND FINALLY AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS

wait a minute. I’m so confused lmfao. soooo, was Hawks all “anyway, here’s Jeanist’s dead body, you can examine it but please don’t look at him too closely and also I’m gonna need that back unharmed.” how tf did you pull that off lmao

(ETA: also isn’t this technically confirmation of the ol’ Noumu Jeanist theory lol. I’m gonna go ahead and say it is.)

NO BUT PLEASE, CONTINUE. I unironically love reading Horikoshi’s overly convoluted “SEE IT’S NOT A PLOT HOLE” explanations

lkldslfk so wait, you’re telling me Hawks convinced Dabi and the League to put Jeanist’s body in storage, and basically just hoped they wouldn’t use him for any experiments until he could put his plan into action and have the HPSC’s people break in and find and revive him?? WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG. A FOOLPROOF PLAN IF I’VE EVER HEARD ONE

fff this man really asked Jeanist to risk it all to prop up his little cover story, and Jeanist was all “sure why not” omfg. anyways, thanks for recapping all of this out loud for no particular reason in your car conversation you two

LMAO NOW WHAT

TROUBLE YOU SAY? GOOD THING THE NEW NUMBER ONE HERO IS ON THE JOB THEN

okay no it’s just some random thugs strolling around terrorizing the downtown. fuck ‘em. so Jeanist is making short work of them now

uh oh

won’t come? not can’t, but won’t?? what???

WOW

well I guess that makes the local heroes A BUNCH OF SHITHEADS now doesn’t it?? jesus

and okay, serious question, if the cops are spread too thin and the heroes have literally walked out on the job, what exactly is stopping everyone from deciding to use their quirks to defend themselves, legal or not? nothing, as far as I can tell. society just got a hell of a lot more chaotic

anyway so this is an interesting panel here

man, Dabi really did pull it off, didn’t he. well anyway so here’s that better world all of the villains were wanting, you guys! isn’t it so great?? everyone’s terrified and angry and losing hope and society is inches away from collapsing into total anarchy! but hey, at least we exposed the number one hero as a hypocrite

anyway so what are these guys up to

fucking hell, he’s visiting his mom. I really wasn’t prepared to commit this much emotional energy towards reading this chapter today. BUT VERY WELL, WE PRESS ON

?? wait she’s not there?

is this supposed to explain how Dabi knew who Hawks really was? except that there’s the little matter of how he even know where to find his mother in the first place. feels like we’re still missing something there, but oh well

OH MY GOD

RHA I TAKE BACK EVERY WORD I EVER SPOKE AGAINST YOU. YOU ARE A SCANLATION GROUP FILLED WITH ANGELS LMAO. I WILL TAKE THIS PANEL IN MY HANDS, AND TREASURE IT AND KEEP IT SAFE

ANYWAY, BECAUSE MY TIRED BIRD SON’S LIFE SUCKED SO MUCH ALREADY, IT TURNS OUT HE’S ACTUALLY PLEASED WITH THIS NEW TURN OF EVENTS LOL HOW ABOUT THAT

GOOD FOR YOU BBY. YOU GO OUT THERE AND BE YOUR OWN PERSON

and in all seriousness, I love that identity he chooses -- chooses, because it actually is him making a choice now, possibly for the very first time in his life -- is “guy who helps people”, though. it really is nothing short of miraculous that he held on to that kind of optimism and desire to do good even with everything he’s been through. there were so many times he could have chosen to turn his back on the world in retaliation for the way it treated him. but he didn’t!! and here he is now, finally free, and what he wants to do with the rest of his life now is simply to help others. anyway please excuse me for a moment, I need to go find some sort of basket or a big vase to put all of my fresh new Hawks Feels in, pardonne-moi

YEAH BOIIIIII

“FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS, MISTER JEANIST, WHERE DID YOU FIND YOUSELF THAT SWEETASS CAR.” hey, all I’m saying is if this boy’s wings really aren’t growing back, he’s gonna need to find himself a new means of transportation y’know?

oh my god you guys it’s a flashback to his mom buying him the Endeavor plushie when he was like two because, and I quote, ALL MIGHT WAS TOO EXPENSIVE

oh my god oh my god. my boy out here with a new lease on life finding hope in the darkest of times

wasn’t your throat supposed to be all fucked up lmao. Horikoshi was suddenly all “oh shit the VAs are gonna be pissed at me if I keep this up huh”

“that’s why Bubaigawara was such a great guy” motherfucker IT IS A TERRIBLE DAY FOR RAIN. FORECAST SAID NOTHING ABOUT THIS

:’)

yes ma’am. yes indeed. confirmed, I really will straight up fight some motherfuckers for this child. well not really, but YOU KEEP YOUR DISCOURSE OFF MY LAWN AND OUT OF MY BLOG YOU HEAR. THIS IS A HAWKS-FRIENDLY SPACE. WE RESPECT TAKAMI KEIGO IN THESE STREETS

and he’s saying (or is he thinking?? what a weirdly shaped speech bubble this is) that even if what Dabi said about the Todoroki household is true, “I’m not sure it’s the same now.” which happens to be ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. man this whole chapter really is all about saying “fuck the past” and moving forward and I am living for it

SON!!!!

“the first step is at my beginning” fklkjlk. what an iconic fucking line??

AND HIS WINGS!!!! THEY ACTUALLY ARE GROWING BACK AHHHHHHH. “PUT A RAINCHECK ON THAT CAR, JEANIST-SAN.” THE HAWKSMOBILE CAN WAIT, RIGHT NOW HE HAS TO GO INSERT HIMSELF BACK INTO THE TODODRAMA WHETHER THEY LIKE IT OR NOT

you guys. I came here ready for some BAKUDEKU HOSPITAL ANGST, and I got DIDDLY SHIT of that, and none of my other kids were even in this chapter, but!!! ASK ME IF I CARE LMAO omg. because bird son is hanging with his new best friend, and he’s out here Finding Himself and picking up the pieces and putting them back together stronger than ever because RESILIENCE HAS A NAME, AND IT’S SPELLED H-A-W-K-S, and you guys. profound, my love for this child. holy shit. hey google, play Silence by Marshmello

#bnha 299 #takami keigo #hawks (bnha)#best jeanist #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #I found peace in your violence #can't tell me there's no point in trying #I'm at one #and I've been quiet for too long

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dreamii-yume · 3 years

Text

@shikigamiuwu said :

"So y/n is a sex slave that Lilia brought for his son for Silvers birthday ( let’s just say that this is a medieval ages idea setup), Since Lilia know that Y/N is Silver totally type of girl, decided to brought it and gift it to her. So Lilia dress Y/N in a sexy and expensive lingerie and give him to Silver became just like the First one infatuated to Y/N and was really possessive to Y/N, Silver will go to lengths of beheading the person who touch her or help her escape from his grasp. (Lilia just supporting his son and helping him clean the mess and train her darling). You can put spicy stuff more into it if you want."

AGAIN. This plot too has so much potential to be a Sinfic _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): im crying—

Warnings : Dub-Con | Slavery | Master-Slave Relationship

Since the Valley of Thorns is essentially a place where magic is everything, I would presume that a human who do not possess a knack of magic is treated as the lowest of the low.

The man that bought you was strange, a unique multi-colored hairstyle and his fangs were sharp underneath that mischievous smile. He says he has a lonely son who had been eyeing you for a while now, but you have no knowledge of this “son” he speaks of. But this youthful-looking adult seemed like a big deal, considering how your employer immediately sold you off without further explanations. Before you knew it, you were placed in a carriage with the strange young man, giggling about how happy you would make his son to be.

This “son” of his was named Silver.

One look at him and it was immediate to you that they were unrelated by blood. For one thing, Silver seems to be a human whilst that strange man who bought you was not, he was a fairy of all things. They sure do seem like they share the same fatherly bond as strong as any other family though, it almost made you envious. “Lilia”, the name of the man who bought you, had only issued one order for you to follow, the only request that he asked of you.

“Try and get along with Silver if you will, (Y/N). Keep him happy at all times.”

You were a slave, but you were brought as a gift to keep Silver company during his birthday. When you first met him, he was quiet and polite, a true gentleman that made you feel like you were the princess and he was your knight. Perhaps it was the fact that this was the first time that you have been given this level of respect in your life that it made you feel lost on what to do. But Silver never minded your awkwardness, he sticks to you like a lost puppy when it should be you who needed to act like that. He was as strange as his adoptive father, in the most opposite of ways.

Lilia told you that Silver had been “eyeing” you for a while now, that’s the whole reason why he specifically bought you in the first place, because you were already a familiar face to him. You were confused at first, but now that you’re actually here, serving Silver in actuality, you began to understand what he means. He acts way too familiar with you, often interacting with you that you don’t think is befitting for a master to do with his slave. He follows you around like a lost puppy, asking how your day was, and even shows you quite the affection sometimes. He doesn’t show too much emotions himself, but there’s instances of assertiveness whenever he’s with you that you just can’t help but notice.

Silver...doesn’t really let you leave out of his sight, majority of all the times, not that you’re allowed to anyways. Everything that you needed to do in private must be relayed to him or else he’ll come rushing in panic the moment he finds you not by his side anymore. It’s gotten worse to the point that you were not allowed to sleep on your own bed anymore or even take a bath by yourself. You don’t get lucky when he’s asleep either, you’d think he’s a deep sleeper but as one of the personal guards of the young master of the Valley of Thorns, his strength doesn’t falter even when he had closed his eyes for the night. One little movement you make away from him always ends up with him growling in his sleep and in instant, his arms tightly wrapped around you in a suffocating manner.

“Listen to me...” He told you one night, his head laying on your lap as he reached out his hand to caress your cheek. His touch was gentle and warm yet, his expression was stern and serious, the entire opposite to show you how much you needed to pay attention to the next words that will come out of his mouth. “You’re not allowed to treat others like this, do you get it? I should be the only one occupying your mind.”

“...Like you are to mine.” He started saying possessive things like that in just a span of a few weeks, you don’t quite understand what he means the first time but you nod anyways. He always smiles when you agree with him before, satisfied with your answer but you did not expect him to sit up from his position and leaned closer to your face this time. It was by then that you realized that he had initiated the first ever shared kiss between the two of you. He was gentle, yet impatient like he had been waiting for this moment for so long that he wanted to savor this moment for just as long.

His feelings for you became stronger ever since that day, but came with it was an even stronger possessive feeling for you. Both men and women are no longer allowed to come near you, god forbid what happens to those who even dare to look at you funny. He wasn’t a violent person, just passive-aggressive most of the time, but he has the power that can intimidate people away...Hell, he can even scare you in some degree. Long story-short, the only person that you were allowed to think of was him and him alone, there are no exceptions, but that goes the same for him too.

Then, came the day of his birth once again this year, it was such a busy yet joyous day for everyone. You provided him with a simple gift that you made yourself, in which Silver had rewarded you with a gentle, grateful smile like he always doees. “Thank you, I’ll treasure it dearly.” His words alone made you warm on the inside, something that you didn’t think was possible for a slave to feel. You were lucky to be able to serve a master like him, for you to be loved and treated like how a human being should be. Silver made you feel all those things, and for that you were just as grateful.

It almost feels like you belong just right in this family.

But as night came on the very same day, you wondered why Silver began leading you away from the crowd and into his room. He said he had a request, a wish that only you could fulfill, so you were more than happy to comply. But as he sat you down to the bed and began to kiss you like he had been doing quite often now; it began to feel as if something else was at play here. “I want you...” He whispered in a ragged, impatient breath, cheeks flushing as his hazy eyes stared intently back at you.

You didn’t say anything in return and just let him do what he wants, pinning you down by the bed as his kisses became even more erratic, messy, and passionate. You didn’t know what to feel, you were so used to the feeling of being treated normally, like a friend, like a family that you nearly forget what your status really is in the first place...You are a slave through and through, you are destined to perform these acts and please your master however they desire. But perhaps it was because you’ve become too spoiled due to how they treated you that you could feel your stomach churning from the feeling of being treated differently now.

You were...nervous.

As evident with how you began to breathe heavily from just with his touch alone and his hands exploring your body had you sweating bullets. You gulped as a response when he reached down where your clothed flower was, you were trembling. You are a slave, you should know by now that you are going to be treated like this at some point in your life, and yet you were scared. The realization and the true meaning of his words when your master said that he wanted you is coming down upon you at the same time. You were scared, terrified especially as he began to mark your neck and started pulling down on your clothes.

...But it was way too late to say quits at this point for you have already fallen, you’ve lost the moment you felt yourself at home in the comfort of this family. You have no choice but accept such fate, especially when Silver looked so ecstatic about it, mistaking your trembling body as an act of excitement. In the end, you should’ve known better than to get attached to your master like this, to empathize with him and allow your mind to create a soft spot for him. You can’t bear to see him enraged, disappointed, or even sad due to your rejection...It’s all too painful for you to witness.

...But maybe that was the point after all? The unexpected fate of the slave that belonged to Silver. A proof of how emotions can too be a lethal weapon to corrupt one’s mind.

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #yandere #silver twisted wonderland #yandere silver #Birthday Crumbs (Silver)

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

Cooking in the Crest (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)

Summary: You become sick of the endless prepackaged food you eat while living on the Razor Crest. From a holovid, you and Din try to learn how to cook.

W/C: 3.2k

Warnings: FOOD is a big warning here; this is all about food, cooking, and eating; some language, and mentions of violence and blood because Din is a hunter.

A/N: this was a request by lovely @binarydanvvers !! I hope you guys like it too :))

The Razor Crest was not exactly built to be a home. The beat up old ship, a pre-Imperial piece of garbage, was mainly meant to be a freighter, to carry loads and supplies around. It had a bunk, yes, but that was mainly for the pilot to sleep. Some ships were elaborately built and crafted to house people, even families; this was not one of them.

You could tell that from the moment you walked aboard. This was not built to be a home, but the Mandalorian and his little green child had made it one. It was endearing, really. It was still cold and harsh, not exactly welcoming, but there were little touches. A sling for the baby to sleep in above the man’s bunk. A few scattered toys for the kid. Extra clothing tucked away, and what seemed to be a makeshift kitchen.

It can hardly be called a kitchen. It’s more of a food storage area. The Mandalorian man has stored packets of food, dried or wrapped, water, and other assorted food necessities in a small corner of the ship. There’s also a device for heating meals, like the just-add-water foods he carries so many of.

The baby doesn’t complain. Well, he really can’t, considering that he cannot speak yet, but he never pushes away the food. Of course, his favorites are frogs and occasional organic things he picks up on the surface of the latest planet, but he’s never refused a nutrient bar or an instant bread loaf. The kid is always hungry; he’ll take anything.

You’ve been traveling with Din for a while now. He entrusted you with his name not long after he entrusted you with the care of his foundling. He’s a kind man, surprising beneath the layer of impenetrable beskar, with a warm laugh even through the modulator.

In this time, you’ve become exhausted over the endless routine of microwavable carbohydrate packs with dried proteins. A nutrient bar is a nice switch, but it’s endless days and nights of bland food. “Do you even eat? Does your species photosynthesize or something?” You’d asked Din once, teasingly knocking on his beskar.

“I’m human,” he assured you, voice dry. He presents himself as tired of your endless teasing, but you both know he could never be. You’re the energy, the entertainment to him and his little green child.

“I doubt that,” you teased, nudging his hip with your own as you walked past, the baby on your other side, giggling at your words.

The kid is smart. He can’t yet speak, but he can recognize meaning in words and the emotions you convey with your tones. You’ve been steadily working on teaching him the right morphemes to form words, but he’s just not quite there yet. He made a little babbling noise at his father, then turned and looked up at you, grinning with tiny white teeth.

Din must eat, you’ve come to notice. He never takes the helmet off; you’ve never heard his voice without the modulator, you’ve never seen him eat. But the stock of food dwindles at a quicker pace than it would for one and a half people, so he must consume some of it. You’ve noticed that the dried proteins or instant spicy grains go quicker- those must be his favorite. You’ve made mental notes several times to pick up extra when shopping.

As the three of you take off from the last planet, a lively and populous city center, your stomach is happy with its contents: you and the baby had gone on a culinary tour, trying different local delicacies. You glance at the kitchenette in the corner and wince at the protein bars. Surely you’ll be reduced to eating the dry and chalky sustenance the next time you’re hungry.

The baby sits in your lap, bouncing excitedly as the ship lifts off. He coos and waves his hands excitedly as Din turns and navigates, though it’s nothing too bumpy for the little thing to handle. There’s a jolt when you leave the atmosphere, and the baby squeals as the stars rush past when Din maneuvers the Crest into hyperspace.

Once the course is set, Din turns to you. You wonder what he’s thinking; it’s a shame you can’t see his face. “We should be at our next location in about a day.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you, heightened over the prospect of eating more dried, flavorless food. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Do I know how to what?” Din asks, cocking his head.

“Cook. You know, make food in a way other than using the microwave.”

Din stares at you for a minute. “No, I really don’t. I’ve never had reason to.”

“You don’t consider eating this bland shit eternally a reason?” You ask, folding your arms. The little green baby on your lap mirrors your actions, looking at his father. “I don’t either, but I think we both need to learn. I’m sick of this endless dried food and nutrient bars and instant grains.”

His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. “Fine. How?”

“How what?” You ask, taunting him back from his earlier sarcastic question.

“How are we going to learn how to cook?”

You shrug. “We could take a cooking class on some populous planet. They have them for couples.”

Din looks at you, sharply even though you can’t see his face. “Okay, well, two people,” you chuckle, though you can’t help but notice the rigidity of his body. You’re skilled at reading his body language by now; something changed in him when you said couple. “Why the hell not?”

“Because, cyar’ika, I am a Mandalorian. I’m not exactly going to fit in with the happy honeymooners at a cooking class, searing bantha for my beloved.”

You frown at him. “You’re such a pain in the ass, Din. Work with me here.”

Din is frowning beneath the helmet. You can just tell. “I don’t exactly take orders from you.”

“It’s not an order,” you roll your eyes. “It’s a request. Please.”

Din sighs. He’s quiet for a minute. Then: “Fine.”

“Yay!” You grin and brace his beskar helmet in one hand, pressing a kiss to the visor. “It’ll be fun, come on.”

“I don’t know how fun that can be,” he grumbles.

The holonet turns out to be a surprisingly vast resource for cooking and recipes. You’d never expected this much to be uploaded to it. There are traditional dishes from Tatooine, Naboo, anywhere really. The first struggle is deciding what to cook.

You stop at another populous planet next. Thank the Maker, you mumble as you put the baby in the wrap carrier that straps him to your chest. “We’re gonna make something good, huh kiddo?” You ask and smooch the baby’s little green head. He just coos in return.

Wandering through the planet, you find various little specialty shops, and you mark off the list you’ve created. Spices from the shop specializing in them, fresh vegetables at a stall, meat from a grocer. When the foods are all collected, you return to the ship, where Din has purchased a portable heat source to be used for cooking.

The business Din has on the planet goes quickly and he’s back before you know it. You’ve barely had time to clean the vegetables under the small refresher sink before you hear the clink of beskar and the baby’s excited laughter at his return.

You carry the bowl of vegetables and grin as you spot Din on a crate in the corner, wiping down his armor of blood. “Welcome home, bounty hunter,” you tease as you arrange some crates to form a table and chairs and set the holoprojector in the center. “How’d we do today?”

“Wonderful,” he grumbles as he wipes a smear of mud off his chest plate. He finishes then looks at your arms, holding the ingredients. You set them down and the hot plate as well. “We’re cooking now?”

“I’m hungry,” you shrug.

Din nods. “I suppose. Do you want me to get piloting us out of here and then we can start?”

You shrug again. “We paid for a full day and night. Might as well use it.”

He nods and begins removing his beskar, leaving him in just his flight suit and helmet. You cock an eyebrow at him and tilt your head in confusion. “Don’t wanna get any food on the beskar.”

This makes you genuinely laugh, throwing your head back. “Oh, blood and dirt and mud are okay but no food? You have some odd standards, Din.”

No one has called him by his name since he was a child. You’ve never even said it aloud save for once or twice. The sound of your voice saying it is like the sweetest music; he could listen to it eternally. He’s a little nervous inside, tingly and fluttery from the feeling. Thank the Maker his helmet doesn’t let it show.

“Go wash your hands and let’s get going,” you order him, stacking two extra crates and setting the child on top so he’s the same height as the two of you. He’s delighted by the view, looking around.

You put the vessel on the hot plate then turn it on, unsure of how quickly it heats. Din returns not long later, sitting on his crate across from you. “First step?”

To answer his question, you turn on the holovid. A cheerful Zabrak narrates for you and shows you the steps, starting with the first: to chop the ingredients. Din reaches for his leg and you shoot him a glare, pausing the video. “You were not about to use that knife to prepare our dinner.”

Din just looks at you. “Why not?”

“God, you’re impossible,” you laugh, though it’s lighthearted teasing. “No, use this, a clean one.” You hand it over along with a few vegetables. Din starts cutting with neat precision, the yellow tuber vegetable falling in perfectly round slices to the surface you’d laid down before.

The baby whines in protest; he wants in. Looking around, you scramble for something before giving him the softest vegetable and a plastic utensil. “How’s that?” You ask him.

He’s delighted, slicing his vegetable and mirroring his parents and the video. When the step is finished, you press play again and it informs you to add some of the oil and cook the vegetables first.

Din pours them in, causing a sizzle from the hot cooking vessel. “Ooh, it must be ready,” you grin and drizzle some oil over the top.

“I don’t think that’s the order we were supposed to do it,” he points out, rewinding the video.

“Oh well,” you shrug and stir the vegetables. The aromatic plants waft from the steam, making you sigh in happiness at how wonderful the recipe smells, even now. “Can you smell under there?”

Din shakes his head.

You frown. “I’ll close my eyes. Lift your helmet and take a smell, it’s delicious.” You squeeze them shut as if to prove you’ll do it.

He would never trust anyone else like this. He’s surprised he even trusts you enough, but he unlatches his helmet and lifts it just enough to catch a whiff of the delicious smell. He sighs happily too and puts the helmet back on. “You can look again.”

You open your eyes and smile at him. “Well, we’re not doing terribly! What’s next?”

The video plays a little longer, telling you the next steps: add the spices to the cooking vegetables, stirring them in, then the broth you’ve purchased.

Picking up the bag, you rummage through for the intended spices. “You wanna do this part?” You ask Din.

“I’ll probably mess up.”

“Give it a shot,” you say with a warm smile and hand him several small pouches of spices and a measuring stick.

His fingers are thick and worn without the gloves, and the sight of them pinching the bright orange powder and sprinkling some in the pot is truly humanizing, indicative that this man is Din, not The Mandalorian like you knew him as before. He does that with the required spices, choosing to go by heart rather than the measured values.

You go next, adding the broth to the pot and closing your eyes to listen to the beautiful hiss of the liquid against the hot metal. “Do you think you could cook on beskar?” You tease Din. The man just shakes his head.

The recipe then indicates for you to cut up the meat and add it before covering and letting it boil. Din uses the sharp knife you’ve provided to once again, neatly slice the meat and add it to the pan. “You’re quite precise with that thing,” you inform him with an impressed nod.

He snorts. “I know the ten quickest ways to kill someone with it.”

“Still, precise to do that,” you laugh. You cover the pot and sigh, setting a timer on the holopad to the amount of time needed before the meal will be ready; thanks to the specialized tech in the hot plate, it won’t take long at all.

The baby shows you his knife work with the mushed vegetable. It’s considerably less impressive than Din’s, but you ooh and ahh over it all the same, making the baby beam with pride. “Your knife work rivals your father’s, little man,” you tease the baby and poke his side.

“Yeah right,” he snorts again and leans back against the metal wall of the Razor Crest’s hull.

While the food carries on its quick cooking, you prepare three bowls and spoons to eat with, setting each in front of where the three of you sit. The bowl is much smaller for the child, but he seems just as pleased.

The timer dings and you clap your hands together in excitement. “Let’s see!”

Lifting the lid, the smell that wafts out makes your stomach growl. “Oh, this is going to be good,” you sigh, setting the lid aside on the heatproof surface and scooping some into each bowl. “Careful, it’s hot,” you warn your boys as you a hand them their respectful bowls.

“It sounds wonderful but… you know I can’t eat it,” Din reminds you.

That makes you frown. “Of course you can. We made it together.”

“No,” he sighs. “I can’t eat it because I’d have to remove my helmet.”

The idea crosses your mind as quickly as his words. “Well then.” You stand and push your crate aside, then pull him up and do the same. With your bowl of stew in hand, you plop down on the floor and turn your back to him. “Now you sit with your back to me.”

“Cyare, I-“

“Just humor me, Din. Please.”

He sighs and gets on the floor, groaning at the creak of his joints and popping of his back. Din presses his back to yours, sitting with his legs splayed carelessly to either side. “There. This what you wanted?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Now eat. I won’t look, and the kid is your foundling, he can see you.”

Din is hesitant at first. He sits there for a moment while the baby slurps his dinner, pondering what to do. Then he remembers how much he trusts yoh. How you’d do anything for him and he’d do anything for you.

He removes his helmet, setting it to the floor with a heavy clunk. “There we go,” you smile and reach behind you to pat his chest. “Eat up. I bet you’re hungry from that hunt.”

“Hungrier from making this,” he grumbles as he scoops a spoonful, ungracefully shoving it in his mouth and moaning in content. “Oh, that’s damn good.”

“Isn’t it?” You laugh, eating some yourself and smiling at the flavor. “Seasoned just right,” you affirm him, resting your head back against his own. You can feel that he has hair- well, now you know he isn’t bald.

“Cooked properly thanks to you,” he reminds you.

“Ha! I don’t know shit about cooking. Thank that holovid,” you chuckle, nestling your back against his. You can feel every little notch of his spine, the lumps in a perfect line cascading down his body, as his back presses against yours. He’s warm, and you can feel him breathe in and out slowly- he’s relaxed. Good.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you eat your meals. The kid has long finished his tiny bowl and has passed out in his seat, which makes you laugh. He’s missing the sight of his helmetless father thanks to a post-meal nap.

No words need to be exchanged. There’s meaning in the silence, in the fact that you can hear his breathing and his real voice, the hard gulp of his throat as he swallows yet another bite. Maker, he’s so wonderfully human. You absolutely adore it.

When you’re done with your stew, you set your bowl to the side. Din does the same, and his back relaxes against yours. Neither of you are quite ready for him to put the helmet back on, so you breathe the unfiltered air with him, listen and feel him breathing, try to take in every detail of what his body feels like pressed to yours, even if it’s back to back.

“Din?” You ask softly after a few moments.

“Yes, cyare?”

“I promise my eyes are closed,” you tell him.

“What do you mean-“

Din is cut off when you close your eyes but turn, kissing his cheek. You can feel stubble beneath your lips, and above it smooth skin. God, he feels so damn warm. With your eyes still closed, you hug his neck. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

Din breathes slowly, forcing his heart rate not to accelerate into hyperspeed. “It’s not putting up with you,” he admits. “It’s enjoying you. I really do.”

The words make you flushed and flustered, honored that this strong and silent type has used such eloquent words to compliment you. “Thank you. For all of this, Din. Thank you for letting me know you.”

He’s grinning ear to ear, and he turns his face to kiss your cheek back. “You can know me all you want to, mesh’la.” Din puts his hands over your arms and takes one last moment in your arms. “Well, we need to put the child to bed, and I’m legally supposed to be wearing my helmet right now.”

You turn and sit with your back to him, smiling and nearly giddy from the moment. “Who’s gonna yell at you if you don’t? Mando police?”

Din groans and puts his helmet back on, ignoring you. When you both stand, you hug him for real this time, chests pressed together. “Thank you for a wonderful meal,” he mumbles through the modulator and presses his forehead to yours in a keldabe kiss. “Let’s do this more often.”

“I agree,” you nod and kiss his helmet one last time.

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles @queridopascal

#din djarin x you #grogu and din #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din and grogu #din djarin headcanons #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian headcanons #mando #mando x reader

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quinncupine · 3 years

Note

Hiiii quinn! I never realised you did requests but if it would be fine (and also because its my sole goal) could you do a boom boom boi and izubby with having their own cat or dog as a pet??? I'm seriously thinking that boom boom boi would be both a cat and dog person, don't u agree? (Ily lots and don't feel pressured to do this if you have a lot of stuff going on!)

Hi Dorki! I'm finally making my way through my requests and I was really excited to write this one! Okay, hope you like it!

Quinns Masterlist

Wanna request something?

The Boys with Pets

Word Count: 1,750

Featuring: Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugo!

Warnings: dogs, cats, cursing

Izuku Midoriya

Now Izuku loves pretty much all animals, but I can totally see him getting a dog. Dogs are loyal and full of energy just like a certain green-haired hero. The perfect duo.

He would probably rescue one from the pound, the one with the biggest, saddest, cutest eyes because how could he not? But someone has to go with him because he'd try to rescue them all if there was no one there to stop him. Once a hero, always a hero I suppose.

I'm thinking for names, he would definitely pick a name that reflects his favorite heroes. Don't be surprised if he names his dog something super cheesy like Mighty or Rocky…

Wait, okay, I've decided, he names his dog Mighty and that is the hill I will die on.

The life of a hero is quite busy so when he goes off on long missions, he drops the dog off at his mom's house. Inko has fallen in love with this sweet pup, so much so that she sometimes begs him to stop by with the dog for a visit. It's the closest thing she's got to grandbabies at the moment, she'll take what she can get :)

Now, this cute pup draws in the attention of just about everyone so he's gotten an influx of attention and a few numbers slipped in his hand during their walks, much to his flustered surprise.

Best wingman ever.

This dog goes on regular runs with Izuku and sometimes even helps him with training. I'm thinking a Collie or an Aussie would just be the perfect fit for him to keep up with his personality and lifestyle. He needs an active dog!

I can see it now, he goes on his daily morning runs with this cute Lil furry training buddy and they race the whole way! A few regulars on the trail know about this and it's become sort of a tradition to cheer the two on as they pass.

...

The morning air was crisp with the slight scent of the coming autumn, the perfect morning for a run. Izuku, dressed in his usual training wear, had a steady rhythm going for the last forty minutes, letting out even, controlled breaths. This was the easy part of the run, a warm-up if anything, and he hadn't even broken a sweat yet. The canine jogging by his side was enjoying the dewy morning air as well, tongue happily flopping out the side of her mouth. The shared morning ritual between man and man's best friend: Mighty.

Her tail picked up speed, wagging uncontrollably as they neared the bend where the giant jagged rock towered over the path. It was the place marker to start the race. A three-mile run to the top of the hill located at the center of the park. It was also Mighty's favorite part of the morning.

"Ready girl?" Izuku grinned down at the ecstatic dog who barked in reply.

The instant the two of them passed the big rock, they both broke out in full speed, leaving behind a cloud of dust. Happy barks filled the air as she gained the upper hand. Izuku laughed as the dog turned to look back at him lagging behind her. He always did these races without his quirk to assist him. It was only fair and it helped him work on his natural stamina in case he was ever in a situation where he couldn't use his quirk. Always good to be prepared.

He watched as she bounded up the first steep hill on the trail. There were a few small hills on this route, but this one was the hardest to climb and Mighty had the advantage with her four legs so she always managed to pull ahead first. She stopped at the top and barked him on before quickly disappearing over the crest.

When he reached the top, he stopped for just a second to take in his surroundings. This part of the park was a heavily wooded area with numerous trails that many people used to hike or run. It also served as a great view of the city skyline and he couldn't help but stop and admire the rising sun from between the foggy buildings every time. Then Mighty barked to pull him out of his thoughts.

"It's not over yet!" He called after her and raced down the hill, putting on an extra burst of speed to easily close the distance.

Tail wagging, she nipped playfully at his feet as they sprinted along the path, side by side. There weren't many people out this early so he usually had the trail to himself. The only sounds were the wind in the trees, the leaves crunching under feet and paws, Mighty barking beside him, and his own unrestrained glee as they ran together.

These were the mornings he loved. Just the two of them, away from the stresses that came with pro-hero work. He wouldn't trade being a hero for anything, but sometimes it got to be too much so coming here to clear his mind with a little run was always a cathartic release, only made better by the furry companion by his side.

The short bridge that arched over the creek signaled the last mile. Getting more serious, Izuku pulled ahead of Mighty, not able to hold back the giant grin as he streaked across the bridge, startling a few birds off the railings which Mighty barked at as she came up behind him.

Up ahead was a large open meadow with a small duck pond near the center. A few benches were scattered about the path and he saw the same elderly couple sitting in their usual spot with a bag of rice and seed to feed the plethora of ducks waddling around their feet.

"You got him this time Mighty!" The old man looked up as the two of them zipped down the path towards the couple.

"Show 'em what girls can do!" The woman cracked a smile, waving her hands.

"Morning Mr. and Mrs. Fujino!" Izuku waved as he passed. "Don't count me out yet!"

Mighty barked her greeting and took a detour, herding some ducks closer to the couple then with a quick lick to Mr. Fujino's hand, she sprinted back to catch up to Izuku.

The Fujino's marked the last leg of the race. The only thing left was to climb the top of the largest hill in the park to the old oak tree at the top. That was the finishing line. It was always a gamble as to who finished first every day, but Mighty sure had a competitive spirit.

Izuku pumped his legs as he steadily made his way up to the dirt trail, Mighty just behind him before she suddenly veered left and disappeared into the shrubbery. He was so focused on the tree that slowly came into view just around the curve as he neared the top that he didn't notice.

Just as the path leveled out, almost to the finish line, he glanced back to see no sign of his dog. The tree was a few feet away when a furry mass ambushed him from the side, knocking him clean off his feet. The pro hero landed in the grass with a heavy Oof. Sitting on his chest was Mighty, looking quite proud of herself.

"Cheater!" He laughed, trying his best to hold back the slobbery licks she was determined to give him. "Okay, okay, I'll call it a tie!"

Katsuki Bakugo

Now Katsuki on the other hand would totally be a cat person. Not that he has anything against dogs, but cats are more his style. They don't need constant attention and are pretty much self-sufficient. Just the way he likes it.

That being said, Katuski would go all out on toys and the latest gizmos to take care of his cat. Has a self-cleaning litter box, a waterfall bowl, an automatic feeder, etc. You get the picture.

Oh, and toys galore. If he has space, this cat is getting a personal jungle gym that lets him walk up to the ceiling. S.P.O.I.L.E.D.

Doesn't like to tell people just how much he actually loves this cat because he's never been one to express emotions, but this cat just gets him to his core. They share the same wavelength and he appreciates that. The cat is the only one he trusts to open up to, so sometimes you might catch him ranting to the poor thing who just stares back with big wide eyes and occasional meows. Yup, totally gets him.

I see him with a super chill cat, like maybe a Ragdoll or a Russian Blue. Something that tolerates his constant screaming and explosions.

This guy is just as bad at names. It'll definitely be something long and dramatic like Lord Cat Explosion Demon God of Furballs. Yep. He doesn't take criticism so most people call him Lord Furballs, much to his disdain.

Katsuki won't ask for attention from the cat, but the little furry feline is a total cuddler and will often find itself curled up in his lap or even on his neck if Katsuki's sitting on the couch. You better believe this guy won't be moving until that cat decides it's time to move. He's been late to meetings with friends because of this cuddly cat.

He's a hero so this cat is definitely being treated right. Katuski is no slacker when it comes to caring for his lil buddy. The vet is on speed dial should anything ever happen.

Did someone say a custom-made collar that matches his hero costume to a tee?

He's never loved anything more.

...

"Uh, hey Bakubro, why is your cat glaring at me?" Ejiro asked, staring down at the feline.

"What?" Katsuki didn't even bother to look up from his laptop.

"Your cat. It's giving me the evil eye. I thought it was supposed to be friendly." The red-haired hero frowned, not able to break eye contact with the cat. "I don’t think it likes me."

The small furry creature had lazily curled up in the sunspot next to Katsuki's feet, purring away without a care in the world. It seemed harmless enough, except for the heavy glare it was shooting Ejiro's way.

"Heh," Katsuki finally glanced down and crossed his arms. "He's not glaring. That's just his face."

"Ah," Ejiro nodded, "like father like son."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean!?"

Taglist: @thecindy @peachsenpie @awilddreamerwrites @miriobaby @kiyoobi @dragonsdreamoffire @amive2567 @justscar @kenmaskitten10 @freckledoriya

#izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugou #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #izuku midoriya headcanons #katsuki bakugou headcanons #my pets #cute dogs #cats #yes i did name his dog Mighty #come at me #I got really inspired so i wrote lil stories to go with these headcannons #i laughed when I wrote Katsuki's #of course that cat would pick up on his mannerisms while being a precious sweetheart #and that dog is literally just Izuku in dog form so #this turned out so goofy #lol #request

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mca-attack21 · 3 years

Text

What Mission?

This is my first Umbrella Academy imagine. This is definitely a part 1, I just haven’t decided whether tp make it a mini-series or a full blown series yet. I hope you enjoy, you can find my updated master-list here.

Being one of the Hargreeves kids was no easy task. It meant constant training and missions along with the impossible standards. But you never complained, instead, you decided from an early age that you were going to do your best to be there for your siblings. Your powers were empath/healing. For people you don’t know, you have to maintain a physical connection with them to read/impose emotions. But for those you knew, you could read them just by looking at them. Sometimes, you could feel the distress without looking at them, it just really depended. So far, in comparison to the others, this power proved useless in missions so you were only ever called in after. Your dad had said that you just needed to unlock more of your potential and that you weren’t trying enough. But you were, you really were trying as hard as you could. You just wanted to be with the others.

Over the years you got used to it. You would sneak around at night and check in on your siblings, taking away any soreness they had from training and making sure they never had to face any nightmares. It wasn’t much, but it was better than doing nothing. None of them were ever any the wiser as you would purposefully slip in and out without waking them.

This went well until one night when you realized Klaus was not in his room. It wasn’t long before you felt it. He was scared, terrified. You went to Pogo and asked where your father had taken # 4. Pogo was hesitant to tell you, so you took his hand and projected just an instant of what Klaus was feeling. Pogo then explained everything.

You were extremely careful as you snuck out of the mansion. You felt so much anger towards your dad for putting Klaus through this. But that anger was overshadowed by your concern for your brother.

When you finally made it down to the cemetery, it wasn’t hard to find the tomb that Klaus was locked in. You struggled to open it and slipped inside.

“Klaus,” you said softly trying not to freak him out anymore.

But it was like he couldn’t hear you, not over all of the voices.

“Klaus,” you tried again, moving closer towards him.

When you didn’t receive a response you decided that there was only one way to get through to him. You gently reached out and held his hands in yours. Then you lived his nightmare with him slowly taking it away and replacing it with happy thoughts. Tears were running down your face as you felt to loneliness and fear.

“Y/n?” Klaus’ smaller than normal voice brought you out of your thoughts.

You wiped your tears and faked a smile towards your brother, “Yes Klaus?”

“Thank you,”

“Anytime,” you replied pulling him into a hug.

“Can we get out of here?”

“No, because dad would know and lash out”

“I-I can’t stay here alone, they’ll come back,”

“I’m going to stay here with you until morning. You aren’t alone,” you reassured.

The two of you talked for a while before you told him to try his best to get some rest. Which was an easy task once you used your powers on him. Everything was going fine until the exertion of using your powers earlier started to take over and you also fell asleep.

You woke up being ripped off the ground and away from Klaus.

“Number 8, this is simply unacceptable. I am so disappointed that you feel the need to continually disrupt your siblings’ training. I think it is time to take a more direct approach with you,” your dad spoke.

“Please dad don’t she was just trying to help,” Klaus pleaded.

“As for you number four, I think we will just be forced to extend your stay here.”

“Please, don’t, he doesn’t deserve this.”

But nothing either of you said would ever make a difference. Not to him. So you decided to do something you never would have thought to do before. You grabbed his arm and forced on him the emotions of his kids. The nightmares, the doubts, the fear, the isolation. Before you could continue you felt a small pinch in your neck and everything went black.

When you woke up, you were locked in a small room, with annoyingly white walls. The floor and ceiling were also white, your clothes were white. The only thing of color was an empty IV connected to your arm, which was odd, but you didn’t really care. Nothing mattered, not really, not anymore. You just felt empty and alone.

You were in that cell for 5 days and then you were allowed to return to your room which had been cleared of everything that you had once cherished. Grace came in to give you a vitamin explaining that it was supposed to help you. You swallowed it and laid down on your bed starring up at the ceiling.

Over the next few days, you refused to eat. You didn’t see a point in any of it. You didn’t feel anything. Klaus returned and locked himself in his room wishing that he could forget the last week of his life. But now that the voices were activated, they wouldn’t go away and he was too distraught to even consider learning how to control them.

Your siblings were told that you and Klaus went on a mission, one that did not go well. Reginald told them that neither of you were to be bothered. This naturally had the opposite effect.

Five was the first one who managed to see you. He blipped into your room and was shocked to see how bare it was, except the plate of uneaten food. You were just sitting on your bed staring at the wall.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” he asked.

But you didn’t even seem to register he was there. To say he was worried about you was an understatement. You were always the one that...well that didn’t matter. The point was that something was wrong and he needed to help you. He reached out for your arm, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Oh. Hello, number five. I didn’t see you come in,” you said in a straight voice.

“Isn’t that an understatement,” he mumbled to himself, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright, how are you?” you said in a voice almost unrecognizable.

“Like you don’t already know,” he shot back trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t, or I wouldn’t have asked,”

“What do you mean you don’t know? What happened to the empath powers?”

“I don’t have powers anymore,” you stated with indifference.

“Oh my god, Y/n I’m so sorry,” he said pulling you into a stiff hug. Your dad had said the mission went bad, but geez.

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you feel bad? I don’t feel anything, so why should you,”

“Listen- I don’t know what happened on your mission with Klaus, but we will figure it out, I promise.”

“What mission?”

Five was going to ask you what you meant, but before he could he heard someone coming and was forced to blip out of your room.

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 9

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

The shared pain of both might have been easier for Derek to handle, but as a human - it was taking everything I had to stay awake.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Derek called, gritting his teeth at the movement in his wrists. I looked up slowly but my head dropped back down again.

“I’m so tired.” I hummed sleepily.

“Don’t give up!” He shouted, “You can’t. Because you didn’t give up on me!”

“Yeah,” I giggled, “I’m a real hardass, aren’t I?”

“Come on” Derek jerked at his restraints, “Come on!” My body went slack, and the last thing I heard was a loud rumbling roar cutting through the air.

The space I was in was empty, dark and clouded. The only thing was a purple glowing path. I started down the path, seeing people along the path, watching as I walked.

I saw my mom and Dad, they were worried looking around, soot and ash covered their faces and clothes.

“(Y/N)?!” Mom called.

“Sweetie, where are you?!” Dad shouted, keeping close to mom.

“I’m right here-” I tried to reach out to them but my fingers were zapped by whatever barrier was around the path. I pulled my hand back and looked at my fingers, the same glow from the path lit them up and slowly faded back to the color of my skin. I guess I can’t leave the path once I start. I walked further, realizing that what I was walking was a spiral.

The third familiar face I saw was Laura Hale. She smiled at me kindly, her eyes flashing red.

“Take care of Derek. He’s strong, but he needs someone to help him along the way. You need him too. That’s what mates do. Oh and tell him I said hi.”

“I will.”

Laura laughed under her breath, “It’s good to see you again, (Y/N).” She turned, walking away.

“Again? Have we…met before?” She was gone, a wisp in the shadows. All I could do was keep going.

In the middle of the spiral, there were two other paths that met there. I stepped on the connection and the paths brightened from a purple to a while. That’s when I realized that I had been walking on a giant triskelion, the symbol of the Hale family.

“(Y/N), come on, wake up.” I heard a voice called. I opened my eyes slowly, Scott was lightly tapping my face.

“Scott?” I whispered. He laughed, bending down to untie my restraints and helping me into a standing position. I leaned on Scott, blinked slowly, then finally looked around. The man who was sent in to torture us was on the ground, out cold. Looking around again, I saw Derek who had one arm out of his restraints.

“You gotta help me with this.” He motioned to the shackle. Scott helped me move over closer, leaning me up against the wall.

“No.” Scott said.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“Not until you tell me how to stop Peter.”

“You really want to talk about this right now?”

“He’s going after Allison and her family. He’s going to kill them.”

“So what!? We need to get her out of here.” He motioned to me. At that moment, the pain started up again.

“So tell me how to stop him.”

“You can’t! Alright, now!” Derek pulled on the shackle, “I don’t know when Kate’s coming back, just get me out of this right now! Get me out right now!!”

"Promise you’ll help me.” Scott was adamant, but he wasn’t usually this stubborn without a reason.

“You’re gonna risk our lives for your girlfriend, huh? For your stupid little teenage crush that means absolutely nothing?! You’re not in love, Scott! You’re sixteen years old! You’re a child!”

He nodded, “Maybe you’re right. But I know something you don’t. Peter said he didn’t know what he was doing when he killed your sister, right?” He pulled a picture out of his pocket, it was a dead deer with a spiral on its side.

“Remember this? This is what brought your sister back to Beacon Hills, right?”

“My boss told me, three months ago, somebody came into the clinic asking for a copy of this picture. Do you wanna know who it was?” Derek just stared.

“Where did you get that?”

“Peter’s nurse. They brought your sister here so he could kill her and become the alpha, and that’s why you’re going to help me!”

Derek gripped onto the shackle chain and breathed heavily. Clearly upset that it was true that his Uncle killed his sister on purpose, not on accident.

Scott turned around, “Just say that you’ll help me and I’ll help unlock your other-” He was cut off by the sound of the chain breaking Derek’s other restraint. His anger was running through him like wildfire and his anger lit the flame in me to keep going. He finally saw the truth.

Derek rubbed his wrist, "I’ll help you.” I smiled at him.

“Laura said hi.” I said softly. Derek inhaled deeply and nodded, licking his bottom lip. Derek took me in his arms, and we all went up out of the cellar and outside.

After walking a while, we made it to the house. I was walking at this point, getting some strength back. We had rushed out of the cellar in case we met Kate along the way. I felt the familiar terrible feeling in my chest and grabbed Derek’s hand. He looked back at me, and through the connection we had he understood.

“Hold on.” Derek stopped us all, “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know, it’s- it’s kind of like it’s-”

"No, no, no, don’t say ‘too easy’! People say 'too easy’ and bad things happen.” Scott warned, “What you think fighting was too easy? Getting away from Allison’s dad, none of this has been easy!“

"Fine. You’re right.” He said, I gripped his hand tighter.

“Phew.” Scott sighed. As the air left his mouth, a whistling sound preceded an arrow shooting through Derek’s back. My shoulder jerked, feeling the force of the arrow go through him. Derek fell to the ground, pulling me with him. Looking behind us, I saw Kate with her new protégé: Allison. Allison notched another arrow. As Derek stood again, another arrow shot through his leg. I cried out, going down with him.

“Scott! Your eyes!” Derek called, squeezing his eyes shut. Scott and I helped Derek to his feet, fighting through the gas that could knock all of us out. Another arrow whistled, this time the pain I felt in my side was real. I cried out, falling forward. Derek’s arm kept me from hitting the ground. We made it to an area where Derek could remove both arrows in him, and mine.

“Shit.” I cursed, pressing my hand to my side.

Derek stood, grabbing Scott by his collar, “Come on!” He pulled us to the Hale house, limping all the way. He eventually fell just in front of the house, shoving Scott and I ahead. I looked back, seeing Allison stalking towards us.

“Allison, I can explain-” Scott pleaded.

“Stop lying.” Allison’s voice held no emotion what-so-ever, “For once, stop lying."

Scott backed away as she got closer, "I was going to tell you at the Formal, I was gonna tell you everything. Everything that I said, everything that I did-”

“Was to protect me.” She finished.

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Oh thank god, now shoot him before I have to shoot myself.” Kate groaned as she walked up on us, pulling a gun from her belt.

“You said we were just gonna catch them.” Allison said, the sight of the gun seemed to frighten her.

“We did that. Now we’re gonna kill them.” Kate aimed at Derek, shooting him as he lay helpless on the ground.

“DEREK!” I shouted, trying to move towards him, but Kate aimed the pistol directly at me, I backed away hesitantly. Tears streaming down my already tear stained cheeks. She turned the pistol on Scott.

“I loved those brown eyes.” Kate sighed, finger on the trigger.

“He’s just a kid!” I shouted, moving to get the gun from her when another voice entered.

“Kate!” The voice’s origin appeared from the shadows and there stood Chris Argent, “I know what you did. Put the gun down."

“I did what I was told to do.” She excused herself.

“No one asked you to murder innocent people. There were children in that house. Ones who were human. Look what you’re doing now, you’re holding a gun at a sixteen year old boy. No proof he’s spilled human blood. We go by the code. Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent.”

“We hunt those who hunt us.” Allison whispered. Kate still didn’t move her gun.

Chris pulled one on her, “Put the gun down.” He shot off a round, “Before I put you down.“ The gun he was using looked…so familiar.

“Whatcha doin’, daddy?” I asked, peaking my head over his work bench. Dad was etching a carving into the side of one of those guns mommy said I couldn’t touch because they were dangerous. He was drawing a pretty picture of a dog and the sun.

“Just something for a friend, sweetie.” He looked down at me over his glasses, “Now go run along.”

My father made guns for Chris Argent…

“Allison, get back.” Chris commanded. Allison, Scott and I moved away from the entrance of the house. Chris and Kate pointed their pistols towards the door.

“What is it?” Allison whispered, her voice trembled.

"It’s the alpha.” Scott replied. We all stood there, the tension in the air could have been cut with a knife. Allison pulled her bow, aiming towards the door. Scott shifted into his wolf form. I moved away from the group, with no weapon I just moved back, leaning against a tree. I felt at my side, blood still trickled down my side but now as much as it was before.

In a flash, something darted from the house, towards the group. Everyone scattered, nowhere to run. Allison made her way towards me, keeping her arm steady, ready to shoot.

Chris shouted, knocked off his feet, Allison and I were next. The impact of the fall worsened my wounds. Scott followed as Peter knocked us all to the ground faster than we could anticipate. Now it was just Kate who stood alone.

“COME ON!” She shouted in the dark, “COME ON!” In an instant, Peter was with her. He grabbed her wrist and shot off his gun as he broke her arm. She screamed in pain. His hand moved to her throat, throwing her towards the house. He flashed to her side, dragging her into the house.

“No!” Allison shouted.

“Allison, stop!” I groaned, following her inside. She didn’t realize what danger she was putting herself in, no matter how angry she was at Scott, she couldn’t take on an alpha werewolf by herself.

Allison stood in front of Peter who held his claws to Kate’s throat.

“She is beautiful, Kate.” He remarked casually, “She looks like you.” He pressed the tips of his claws against her throat, making her gasp, “But not as damaged. So I’m going to give you a chance to save her.“

Peter was shaking from his anger, “Apologize.” He commanded, “Say that you’re sorry for decimating my family. For leaving me burned and broken for six years. Say it. And I’ll let her live."

"I’m sorry.” Kate muttered, letting her pride slip away at the danger her niece was in.

Peter’s face did not move, her hands trembling as he quickly dragged his claws across her jugular. Blood spraying across Allison’s face. I watched Kate’s shocked face, the light going out of her eyes. Her body fell to the floor.

Peter sighed in relief, a smile on his face, “I don’t know about you, Allison but that apology…didn’t sound very sincere.” Scott appeared, standing his ground in front of Allison, Derek followed, both in the werewolf form.

“Run.” Scott said to us. Allison made it out but Peter blocked the door as I tried to follow.

“No, let (Y/N) stay. After all, this is her future.” Peter grinned, as I backed up towards the staircase. Scott and Derek circled Peter while he looked vaguely like he was enjoying the situation. They both growled and lunged towards Peter, but both were repelled away. Derek threw a punch, but was tossed up into a ceiling beam and thrown into a fallen piano. I fell against the stairs, feeling every impact. My ears were buzzing with voices: Mom, Dad, Stiles, Uncle Noah, Kate. I pressed my hands to my heart praying it would stop. Flashes of triskelions, my parents, and wolves appeared in my mind every time I tried to close my eyes.

Scott jumped onto Peter’s back but was instantly thrown off. Both beta on the ground. Seeing Derek and Scott there, looking up at Peter in fear just made something inside me scream.

I couldn’t remember moving over to them, but I stood in front of both of them, separating them and Peter.

“(Y/N), get out of here!” Derek shouted, his fear touching my new courage but not enough to make it waver.

“I’m not letting you hurt them.” I glared. Peter only laughed.

“Ahh, this was always something I admired about you. You have so much fighting spirit. But I’m afraid the fun is over.” He went to grab me, but was confused when my hand made it to his first. His wrist trembled to move, but only stayed put in my grasp. He looked from his wrist to my eyes, confusion spreading across his face.

Later, I would not be able to describe the feelings I had when this…snap finally happened. But it was like a dam went off inside of me, everything fell into place, and the wolf inside of me came to light.

In his shocked eyes, I saw the reflection of mine that burned bright red, “I said, I’m not letting you hurt them.” I kicked him in the stomach, sending him through a wall. My breathing was heavy, my gums aching as fangs grew. I looked over my shoulder at the two, both of them shocked.

Peter stood back up, cracking his neck to the side, “A surprise, I like surprises.” His voice became a disembodied growl.

Perhaps I got cocky, because I lunged at him again, but this time he got the upper hand. His claws ripping through fabric and the skin of my stomach, then tossing me through a window. I landed hard on my back, gritting my teeth together. I was pulled to the side by Chris Argent, he kneeled down, trying to hide the surprise on his face when he saw my eyes.

Peter grabbed Scott by the collar, lifting him through the air. I tried to get up again but stopped, this new wound from the alpha was making it harder for my body to heal itself. Scott kicked himself off of the alpha, flipping backwards. Peter stumbled back as Scott landed on his knees. The beast prepared to lunge at Scott again when everyone’s heads turned in the direction of a car horn. Jackson’s Porsche pulled up, Stiles and Jackson exiting. He ran forward, throwing a jar towards the beast. Peter caught the jar, growling towards him.

“Oh damn.” Stiles squeaked.

“Allison!” Scott called, throwing Allison her bow. She caught it, loaded and hit her mark. Glass breaking and Peter going up in flames. He roared, trying to put out the flames but because of the chemical reaction, they only continued to rage. He roared, making a final run towards Allison, trying to take her out with him. Scott got in his way, kicking him away. Peter was thrown back, falling on his knees.

Peter Hale fell to the ground, ending his murder spree the way it started - burned and broken. The only thing we could hear was his sputtering and coughing as his lungs fought for air.

“(Y/N)!” Stiles ran forward, hugging me tightly. I grunted as he put pressure on my wound but I hugged him back. I can’t imagine how worried he was, how worried he had been since this whole thing started.

“Wait!” Scott shouted. I pulled away from Stiles, seeing Derek kneeling over Peter, his claws raised. Derek stopped, looking back at him. Derek’s adrenaline was running wild.

“You said the cure comes from the one who bit you. Derek, if you do this, I’m dead. Her father, her family- what am I supposed to do?”

“You’ve… already… decided…” Peter choked out, “I can smell it on you…!” Whether Derek liked it or not, Derek had decided to kill him, finally closing the chapter of justice for Laura.

“Wait! No, no! Don’t!” Scott pleaded, but we all watched Derek slash Peter’s throat and Peter’s last breath slipped out.

“I’m the alpha now.” Derek’s voice was a growl, his eyes red. I started walking towards them when I heard Stiles gasp. He looked down at his shirt, seeing the blood stains that had come from my stomach. I looked down, still seeing the blood and now a black liquid had appeared.

“Well, that’s not good.” I swallowed and stumbled back into what felt like a brick wall. But it was Derek behind me, holding me up. Stiles rushed forward, but stopped short when Derek growled.

“Hey,” I slurred, slapping Derek lightly with the back of my hand, “Stop that. I just need to.. need to lay down.” I closed my eyes, slipping off to sleep.

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

Read part 10 here!

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razrbladekiss · 3 years

Text

TYRANTS | Chapter Eight - Angels Or Devils

WORD COUNT: 6.3k

WARNINGS: mentions of death, grief, tig, usual SOA shit

MASTERLIST

Irked, Chibs stuffed his cellphone into the pocket of his cut with a prolonged fuck to accompany the squelch of glass against leather.

He couldn’t get a firm grip on anything this morning.

Jax was at large, Isla and Tig had rolled onto the lot together looking much, much too comfortable, and Gemma was chewing every goddamn soul’s ear off about her son.

To say that he wanted the day to be over—before it had even commenced—was the understatement of the fucking year.

“Where the hell is he?” Clay barked from the front of the garage, turning to eye Isla directly. “You sure you haven’t seen him?”

“If I knew where he was, I would’ve told you by now.” Her retort was just as curt, prompting Tig to tense in his spot beside her.

He twined his hand around her bicep in order to calm her, but it was no use.

“Well somebody must know where he is—“

“You tried callin’ Tara?” Chibs cut the president off, hoping he’d be able to take some of the heat off of his daughter—the one that seemed to get all of Clay’s Jax-fueled frustrations launched atop her these days.

He just glared at the Scot.

“I can swing by his place? Make sure he ain’t there?” Tig offered.

“He isn’t. Wendy would’ve said.”

“Alright,” the sergeant smacked his lips together. “We’re gonna have to go without him, then.”

Isla hummed, agreeing with Tig.

That forced a vexed snarl from Clay, and she wanted to throttle him for being so fucking haughty today.

“What? He has a point. If we wait around for him, then we’re gonna be late and the other Sons will get to the cemetery before us. Jax knows where we’re going, and what time this fucking funeral starts, so just trust that he’ll be there!”

Her outburst was completely uncharacteristic. It was brash and loud, and Clay realized that her emotions were running a hell of a lot higher today than what they usually would have, so he allowed it to pass.

He cut her some slack because that was what she needed. Isla needed to blow off some steam, to raise her voice and yell out her frustrations because she would’ve let them bubble over, otherwise.

Plus, unbeknownst to him, she had started to take the Mirtazapine that had been prescribed to her, and she still didn’t know how to feel about it.

It was odd. Everything about today, was just fucking odd.

“Kids right.” The rasped acknowledgment came from Happy this time, nodding in her direction with that signature stoic expression he was known to host. “Jax wouldn’t miss this.”

“Alright.” Clay waved a hand tersely before gesturing to the sea of Harley-Davidsons parked side-by-side. “You heard ‘em. Let’s go.”

Tig grabbed at her hand as she went to slip away—exactly like she did to him last night—and pulled her toward him.

The moment didn’t go unnoticed by Clay and her father as they mounted their bikes, sharing the same look that’d been meshed with confusion and concern.

“You good now?”

She nodded, using her pointer finger to twist the crucifix that was sat against her neck, feeling a foreign heat prickle against her cheeks because all eyes were on them.

After turning up together today, people had their suspicions, too.

And those suspicions were mostly held by Chibs and the pres, but it was partly unrest because they both knew what Tig had done—though, Chibs wasn’t officially privy to Clay pulling the strings.

He would be, though. In time, he would find out for himself.

“Gemma and Wendy are heading out in the SUV. Are you going too?” He squinted underneath the sun, pulling his sunglasses from the neck of his shirt.

“I am.” Isla smiled, squeezing Tig’s hand. “Ride safe.”

She stood straight—not having to shift onto her toes because her heels provided some more height—and pressed a dulcet kiss to his cheek.

“Please don’t get into another fight today.” She expressed sadly, lightly ghosting her fingertips over the bruise sitting uncomfortably against his cheekbone. “I don’t think I have it in me to take care of you again.”

“I can’t make any promises.” Her lips curled upward, expressing some sort of smile—though, what with the forthcoming event, she didn’t feel too good about it.

But she remained silent, after that.

Isla got into the car without saying a single word.

The lull was of course grim, but stillness was what the three women needed. It was good for them to sit in complete silence—the only sound coming from the din of the car engine and outside of the vehicle—because it allowed them space to think.

She needed to collect her thoughts this morning, especially after what she had learned last night. Isla didn’t want to think that Jax would have flipped on Tig like that, but it was Jax.

He was unpredictable.

Never once had she felt a sense of outrage that she wasn’t sure how to quell whenever thinking of her best friend, but she was beginning to understand just why Clay was so pissed at his rashness lately.

Even if he was acting on instinct—using his conscience to rule his decisions—Jax was still acting recklessly. His desire to do the morally sound thing outweighed the need that his club had for him to carry out the act that would result in the greater good.

And he was right to stop Tig from pulling the trigger on that girl, but Isla was wary of how he had decided to handle it.

“You didn’t call me last night.” Gemma whispered as the car pulled up to the cemetery gates. “You said that you’d call me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Genuinely, she told her. “When I got in I just went straight to bed, but then Tig turned up at my place and he needed my help, and then—“

“You let him stay.” She finished Isla’s sentence with a hum, providing her with an unusually somber glance. “If there’s anything going on between the two of you, then it’s okay—“

“There isn’t.” Isla shot her down, impatiently waiting for the all-clear to leave the vehicle. “He got hurt last night, needed patching up and didn’t wanna go to the clubhouse in case he saw Jax again, and so he came to me. And, because I’m nice, I let him stay the night.”

“Why wouldn’t he wanna see Jax?”

Wendy’s qualm came unexpectedly. She hadn’t thought that the blonde was listening to the little back and forth.

“Because he was the reason that Tig needed his face fixed.” She spat bitterly when Wendy just blinked at her, hoping to God that they’d be able to get outside soon.

Her irritation with the VP was palpable, and Gemma couldn’t help wondering whether Jax’s stunt had a part to play in why she was so galled when his name was brought up before they left the garage.

Regardless, Isla was getting along with it today. For the sake of Opie and his kids, she was putting her hostility aside and paying her respects to Donna the way that she had always been taught to.

“Woah, what a turn out.” Her admiration for the Sons grew with every single member—every Nomad—that she saw riding along the winding road.

Isla moved between Chibs and Tig, holding tightly onto her father’s hand as they walked toward Donna’s casket.

“Still no Jax.” Almost relieved, Tig noted. “Wonder if he’s gonna ride over with Tacoma.”

“Doubt it.” The Scot added. “He woulda followed us. Dunno where the fuck he’s gotten to.”

“He’ll be here.” She promised hopefully, breaking away from the two men—shaking Chibs off when he held on a little bit tighter, not wanting to let her go.

The black dress she’d thrown on was hardly funeral attire, but the tights hugging her legs underneath the cotton made it a bit better.

Tig watched her pad across the grass and toward Opie, trying to sniff back his own tears at the sight of her taking a long-stemmed blue flower, kissing the petals, and placing it atop the coffin.

It was horrible.

“I’m sorry, Ope.” Isla pressed a kiss to her fingers and ghosted it over the wood, feeling her eyes dampen. “Anything you need—anything at all that you can think of for yourself or your mom or the kids—I’m here. Always.”

He couldn’t quite find the words to thank her, but she knew that he was grateful. Opie didn’t have to say anything for Isla to recognize his appreciation for her, for his family, and for everybody that turned out today.

Jax wasn’t there, though. Not yet.

And, perhaps, Isla being at his side during a time of such harrowing distress was her way of trying to comfort him because his best friend was nowhere to be seen. But she would’ve done it for anybody.

She just wished that it wasn’t Opie.

“I love you…So much.” She whispered through a smile when more people began to filter in, backing away to sit beside Gemma and in front of Tig.

The cool metal of his rings were against her shoulder in an instant, anchoring her back to earth after floating much, much too high above the ground.

She was in a distorted haze, so to speak. Isla’s head wasn’t particularly in the right place today, and it could’ve been down to a multitude of things—but she wanted to simply pin it on her grief.

Chibs saw the way she gnawed into her bottom lip, the way she continually pulled Diane’s crucifix across the golden chain as means of comfort—or, maybe, it was just out of remorse.

He noticed that his daughter—his little girl—peered at Opie’s children sitting beside their grandmother as they said goodbye to the woman that brought them into the world.

He wondered if they understood the weight of it all. They were so young, so impressionable, so innocent, and he saw a lot of Isla in those two kids.

The dull throb of Isla’s heart almost slowed to a halt when the funeral commenced, and Jax was still completely out of sight. Juice held his cut while he stood beside Tara, feeling his chest tighten.

It was difficult to understand just why Jackson Teller didn’t show for such an important moment in Opie’s life.

“I can’t believe him.” Tig hissed out in a whisper, completely ruffled. Isla looked up at the man behind her, holding a dainty hand on top of his. “I can’t fucking believe him.”

He didn’t know what to say. Clay didn’t, either. As he stood beside his Sgt. At Arms and peered down at the disheveled blonde, Clay Morrow struggled to find the words to elucidate his disdain for the lack of action from his step-son.

Donna was family. Opie was family. Family was meant to be there for one another, not purposely ignoring such a pivotal event.

“He’ll be here.” Isla repeated her promise, melting into her space as Tig leant over to kiss the top of her head.

Her eyes glazed over instantaneously, coercing her to turn away before she broke down.

But she leaned backward into his embrace, and watched the ceremony commence.

And it only took a handful of moments for her mood to perk up—as much as it could have under the circumstances—but she was conceivably happier at the sight before her.

“I told you.” She mumbled. She refused to let up her grip on Tig, though, holding onto him firmer now.

It was comfortable. He was comfortable.

“What the fuck…”

Jax looked like hell. Still wearing last night’s clothes—still bloodied and bruised from his scuffle—he sauntered over the grass and made a beeline for Tara.

Isla’s throat hitched.

“Did you do that to him?” She mumbled in reference to the slit in his lip, craning her neck to eye the blue-eyed man.

“Yeah, probably.”

She just shook her head with a tiny smirk, shifting her focus back to the asshole that was taking his sweet fucking time.

It didn’t upset her as much as she thought that it would’ve, watching him go back to her like that. If anything, she was glad that they had managed to reconcile because she made him happy.

But, for a reason unbeknownst to herself, she felt bad for Wendy.

To watch the father of her newborn take his cut from a woman that’d only been back in his life for five minutes, to hold and kiss her in front of everyone, was something she shouldn’t have had to witness today.

They weren’t together, but she knew how that was bound to hurt—to sting and incapacitate her because it was all still so fucking raw.

Poor Wendy.

He took one of the flowers away from the sparse pile, holding it to his lips, and placed it atop Donna’s casket.

Jax glared over his shoulder, shooting the two guilt-ridden men a look that read fury. He made sure that Isla wasn’t looking at him when he did that, though.

He refused to look at her.

And he didn’t stay, either. He paid his respects for all of thirty seconds before stalking away, and leaving the most egregious of tastes on the tip of each tongue.

The funeral flew by, after that.

Before Isla knew it, she was dismounting Tig’s bike outside of T M—again—and stumbling over her heels when she couldn’t quite find her footing. She’d been in a world of her own for the last fifteen minutes.

“You want me to get you a beer?” She asked, handing him her helmet. “Or did you want some of that wine you like?”

He snorted at her taunt, taking it from her. “Beer—but none of that shit Bobby drinks.”

Isla chuckled, backing away from the bike and Tig.

“You want a drink, too?” She asked Clay when he strode over, hands in his pockets.

He nodded, waiting for her to slip out of sight before turning his attention to his Sergeant.

“What’s going on with you two?” Clay asked him accusingly, snatching Tig’s attention from the blonde who was ambling into the clubhouse.

He waved the pres off, lighting a cigarette. “Nothing, man. She’s just been helpin’ me out—“

“That’s what you’re calling it now, huh?”

“That’s what it is.” Tig shrugged, exhaling the smoke from his nostrils. “Y’know what she’s like. She sees someone that needs patchin’ up, and she does it. That’s all.”

Unconvinced, Clay leaned closer to him—striving for the little moment to go unnoticed by those that shrouded the lot. Jax and Tara, for one.

“That’s Chibs’s kid. You be careful.”

“Ain’t nothing to be careful about, brother.” Tig ground his lips together, squinting upward as he rested against his bike. “We’re just friends.”

“You stayed the night with her.”

“Yeah—“

“Twice.”

“Clay—“

“In the same fucking bed!” He snapped, running a hand over his face.

His desire to protect the women in his life—to assert the dominance he had, or his authority—was remarkably overbearing at the best of times.

Isla and Gemma didn’t particularly need to be coddled the way that they’d always been at the hands of Clay Morrow and his club, but they were.

And the thought of his sleaziest, loathsome, savage brother getting closer and closer to that woman churned his stomach. Because he knew what Tig was capable of—what he did—and would be damned if anything were to happen to her at the hands of Tig fucking Trager.

Chibs would kill him, too.

“Nothing happened, nothing’s currently happening, and nothing will happen.” He guaranteed. “Clay, I swear.”

“Alright.” Dubious, the older man responded. “But, if there is, then you be careful. Jax is onto us, and it’s only a matter of time before Isla puts two and two together—‘cuz she ain’t stupid.”

Be careful. Be careful. Be careful.

How about you shut the fuck up?

“I know she isn’t.” Almost irked that Clay would assume he thought that, he retorted. “But she’s got shit going on too, man, I don’t think she’s gonna be focusing on this right now so you don’t gotta worry.”

“Alright.” Clay repeated himself.

He didn’t think that his right-hand was telling him the truth, but he couldn’t exactly do anything about that until an issue arose.

What he did know, though, was that Tig Trager would’ve had some serious hell to pay if he had ignited something with Isla right now.

Or ever, really.

“Keep Jax away from her.” He told Clay, flicking his cigarette to the ground. “She’s pissed at him for what he did to me last night.”

“What’d he do?”

Tig pointed at the cuts on his cheek, grimacing. “She’s fucked off, and if they talk she’s probably gonna throw something at him.”

“Eh. Let her.” Clay waved him off, hastily shutting himself up when he heeded her heels clicking across the gravel toward them. “He needs to be humbled sometimes.”

The rivalry between the two had only intensified since Abel was born and Jax’s priorities shifted from the club.

His family came first. His biological family came first.

And maybe Clay didn’t understand the implications and responsibilities that came along with fatherhood because he’d never had that bestowed upon him, but Jax did.

He knew that he had to provide for his kid, for the one being that was solely dependent on him, and he would never compromise or jeopardize that.

Things weren’t going to be made easy for the man, however.

“Budweiser for you.” Isla smiled, handing a bottle to Tig. She passed one to Clay, holding onto it a little firmer as she offered it to him. “And one for you—but you need to take this, and go see your wife.”

“Why?” Hesitantly, he accepted the alcohol.

Isla shrugged. “She just wants to see you. Seems important.”

“Shit.” Clay hissed, taking a long swig before striding away.

She watched him stamp toward the clubhouse, heeding the change in his mood, and wondered why Gemma was so determined to talk to him at that specific moment.

It could’ve been anything with that woman, really. It could’ve been something so minor, completely insignificant, that Gemma had to get off her chest.

Or it could’ve been something along the lines of elucidating the bone-crushing lament that she held for both her husband and Tig.

Whatever it was, however, Clay wasn’t excited to face her.

“What’d he chew your ear off about?” Isla asked, struggling to open her beer. She sighed, suddenly remembering why she loved her screw-top bottles of wine so much.

“Pass it to me.” Tig took it from her, using his own bottle cap to pop hers off. He chuckled at her grimace, handing it back.

“Thanks.” She groaned, lifting it upward. “So…What did Clay want?”

Budweiser blanketed Tig’s tongue and lips as he pulled the drink away from his mouth, using the back of his hand to rub at the excess.

Quickly, he wondered whether lying to Isla—fabricating the truth and downplaying his superior’s concern—was in his best interest.

But she was perceptive. There was no doubt that she’d realize he was lying to her.

“He thinks that something is going on between us.”

She rolled her eyes, taking a pull.

“What?” A little nervous—on edge, perhaps—Tig asked her. “Did you already know that he felt that way?”

“No.” Instantly, she retorted. “I didn’t know about Clay, but Gemma feels the same. D’ya think they’ve talked?”

“Oh, definitely.” With a small glower, he told her.

They absolutely talked about the two, and that was what worried Tig.

There was nothing wrong with them colluding against the pair, as a rule. He wasn’t offended at the thought, he felt quite honored actually.

But it was the connotation that came alongside those conspiracies. The idea that Tig was only so friendly—so supportive and loving—toward Isla because he wanted one thing from her.

And, really, Tig hadn’t pondered that thought before. Well, not before last night, anyway.

For the first time—possibly ever—sex wasn’t on Tig’s agenda with Isla. Enticing her, breaking her heart, and sending her on her way was not something he wanted.

But Tig was renowned for that, wasn’t he? He was known for being a hapless bachelor. A man whose priorities were neither here nor there.

Everyone just expected that. They saw him with her, and came to that one conclusion.

Maybe Isla expected it a little bit, too. Because she’d known him long enough to understand the kind of man that he was—or had the propensity to be—and she could hardly lie and say that this version of Tig didn’t confuse her.

He’d always been the same with her, though. Perhaps that’d been the difference between every woman that entered and left his life, and Isla Telford.

He wasn’t interested in her. Like that.

“Does that bother you?” With an almost undetectable twinge of hurt, Isla asked.

As if it was a basic instinct, Tig shook his head. “Nah. They talk shit all the time. Stuff like that don’t bother me.”

She nodded, refusing to add anything else. Isla sipped her beer, hoping that the ground would open up and swallow her fucking whole.

There wasn’t a single word in the English language that’d ascribe her feeling at that precise time, but ashamed was possibly the closest she could’ve gotten.

And, still, that was a little bit further off the mark than what she would’ve liked. Because she wasn’t entirely ashamed for reacting the way that she had, more so the way that she fucking felt.

Isla’s heart took a blow when Tig told her that.

For why, though? She wasn’t sure.

It might’ve been the nonchalant expression. The complete colorless response that stirred a foreign emotion within her—striking hard against her chest.

Or, it might’ve been what he had said. It was such a casual proclamation. Something that didn’t mean anything, but everything simultaneously.

She didn’t feel anything for Tig. She didn’t particularly want to feel anything for him, either, but that hurt. A lot.

“Same, to be honest.” She lied, forcing her lips upward in a smile. “Gemma is always on my case about this sorta thing. But I just let it go over my head.”

“Always?”

“Yup. Always.” Isla mentioned around the protruding lump in her throat. “If she’s not talking about me and you—like there is a me and you—she’s talking about me and Jax. And if it isn’t that, she’s bitching about Wendy, or Tara, or just anything she can think of.”

Like there is a me and you.

Tig sniffed a little, nodding. He didn’t want Isla to think that bothered him, but it did. A bit, anyway.

“She’s so overbearing, sometimes.” Genuinely slumped, she stated. Isla leaned against the railing beside Tig’s bike, finally looking at him. “Don’t tell her I said that?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He chuckled, taking another swig. “I’d never purposely get you into shit with your mother—“

“She’s not my mother.” Her eyes rolled. “She acts like it, and I love her like one, but she is not my mother.”

Tig knew. He knew all too well just how Isla felt about that, and he wasn’t exactly sure why he said that to her, today.

Gemma was the best woman she knew and the one that, strangely, brought her all of the comfort and prosperity that she’d craved.

But she wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t close to being Diane, and maybe the comparison between the pair hurt a little. Because Gemma Teller-Morrow was nothing like Diane Telford—and the sooner everybody knew that, the sooner Isla could rest.

“I feel bad talking shit about her. All she’s done is help me.”

“And parent you.” He reminded her, tipping his bottle upward. “She parents all of us, but what I mean is she treats you like a kid sometimes. Jax, too.”

“Yeah. I know.” Peeved, she conceded. “But, what can I do? if I wanna keep her around—keep having her so close to me—then, I guess I’ve gotta make a few sacrifices. And, I mean, it’s not all bad.”

“No?”

“Absolutely not. I’m glad that she’s the woman that took a shine to me. If Luann ended up being the one…”

Tig smirked, sizing her up. “You’d probably be doing porn right now.”

“Exactly.” Without shame—not even feeling slightly bashful at the glance she was receiving—she said. “I don’t think I’d hate doing porn, but I don’t think SAMCRO would be thrilled.”

“Absolutely not. Chibs would kill you, for one.”

“And Gemma.”

“Clay, too.” Tig added, withering at the thought.

“What about you?” A little too bold, she asked.

Though their relationship was of the lighthearted nature, Isla wasn’t certain that the habitual riposte was a thing as of late. His response would probably jar her, she thought.

“I wouldn’t hate it.”

She halted, blushing at his words. Her ears prickled with heat, too.

“It’d be hot.” He shrugged, putting his empty bottle against the ground. “I’m sure Juice would love it, too—“

“Oh, get fucked.” She snorted a laugh, throwing the red cap at his chest as he got to his feet. It bounced off the fabric of his shirt, coercing a chuckle from Tig.

“It was only one time.” He taunted, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “That’s still one more time than most chicks ‘round here.”

“He wasn’t awful.” Isla shrugged. “He knew what he was doing, and I had fun. But, like, he hasn’t got any hair…”

“Hair?” Tig began to gesture downward, chuckling when she grabbed his hands to stop him.

“I don’t mean that. I mean hair on his head, Tig.” She calmed her laughter, letting go of him. “I like to tug on it, I guess.”

It felt somewhat illegal, obtaining this information from her.

He already knew that she was a sex fiend, that she liked it rough, and now that she had some kind of hair-pulling kink.

Tig’s chest tightened. So did his pants.

“Duly noted.” Like usual, he quipped. Tig motioned for Isla to head inside with him when he heeded things heating up between Jax and Tara.

She, as always, made a mental note to grill her friend later. Or, maybe, her friends. Because she and Tara were on that level, now, and she felt that things could’ve sailed smoothly between herself and the doctor.

Isla just hoped that she’d open up to her.

“Are you gonna talk to him?” He asked, reading her fucking mind. “I know that you two talk a lot.”

“Probably.” Her shrug was insouciant. “But I’ll leave it a while, I think. Leave the dust to settle over before I approach either one of them.”

Tig’s heart began to thrash. It battered viciously within the constraints of his chest, thumping at an unsteady rhythm the more Isla babbled on as they neared the clubhouse.

It was maiming him, having to keep this to himself.

He knew that concealing it—the weight of it all—was for the best. It’d guarantee peace and conformity within the club and Isla’s life, but it was also a crippling guilt that not even Tig was sure he’d be able to hold forever.

Clay was heartless, though. The nefarious leader hadn’t a single problem with lying through his fucking teeth, and Tig was more than aware that Clay would continue the charade if and when he decided that he could no longer.

He supposed he could thank him for that.

But, then again, he was also the reason that Tig Trager had found himself tangled within yet another web of lethal falsehoods. Thanking Clay was the very last thing that he wanted to do.

“Oh, shit.” Isla stated through partially gritted teeth. She gestured to her father and Happy’s scorned glares. “Why do I keep getting this fucking look from everyone?”

“It’s not you. It’s me.” He snorted another laugh, taking her hand and walking her further into the room after she stopped completely dead.

Really, Donna’s wake was as vibrant as it could’ve been and nobody—aside from Isla’s old man and the Tacoma Nomad—had their sights set on the Sergeant and Chibs’s daughter.

The atmosphere was strangely spirited, hearty and animated as everybody came together to celebrate the life of Opie’s wife…The way that they always had.

But Isla was still on tenterhooks. She loathed the thought of her dad disapproving of her, today, but she didn’t desire the castigation that would’ve come hand in hand with her need to talk to him.

“Tequila?”

“I’ll get back to you on that one.” She smiled at Tig, making a beeline for the bar when she saw Kip. He followed her.

“You’re turning down free alcohol?”

Isla scoffed. “It might be free, but the effects of it would cost me my fucking reputation here.”

Tig’s eyebrows raised. “How so? You don’t not drink, Isla.”

“I know.” Her lips pursed, watching Kip pop the caps off of six beers. “But I never drink tequila. It makes me…uh…it makes me feel a little hot—“

“Tequila turns you on, is what you’re saying.”

“Well, yeah.” A crimson blush bled over her cheeks, her nose, and even across her forehead as her entire face burned red. “It’s no big deal. Just something I discovered after getting black-out drunk when I’d barely turned twenty-one.”

If Tig wasn’t feeling aroused before, then he definitely was at her admission. He had to think of anything to throw his brain off of that mental image.

“I don’t tend to drink the strong stuff.”

“Unless it’s whiskey.”

She pointed with a smile, nodding her head. “That’s right—“

“Hey, what did you want?” Kip interrupted sheepishly, gesturing to the half-empty bottle she had between her fingertips. “Another Bud?”

“Yes, please.” Again, she smiled.

“Same for you?”

Tig nodded.

“Kip,” she began, “and you take something, too. You’ve dealt with these assholes for long enough, now. Take a break. I’ll man the bar if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, I can’t do that—Gemma’ll kill me—“

“With all due respect, fuck Gemma.” She heard Tig chuckle beside her, shrugging when the prospect glanced at the pair nervously. “She won’t say anything if I tell her that I’m the one that told you to take ten minutes away from the bar.”

“Yeah.” He backed her up, grinning. “She never gets mad at Isla.”

It was completely uncharacteristic of him. But she brought something out from the very chasms of Tig Trager’s cold, black heart, and he lauded that.

Not many people had managed to scrape beneath the surface that way, not even Colleen.

God.

Tig shook himself out of the daze he’d slipped into, watching Isla and Kip trade places as she stepped behind the bar, and he made a beeline for a stool.

He’d been standing for a while, now.

“Are you gonna join me behind here?” She asked, drawing Tig’s attention back to her. Isla held up another bottle for him, twinkling underneath the yellowed light above the liquor shelves.

She looked, almost, angelic.

“Sack—“ Tig grabbed at his arm when he tried to leave his seat, feeling the prospect go rigid under his grip.

Isla’s eyebrows bunched together.

“Take two beers for Hap and Chibs.” He released the grey shirt, grinning as he saw the man sweat—clearly anticipating something more than just doing a simple favor.

“Oh, sure.” Kip breathed a sigh of relief, taking the two bottles that Isla had slid toward him. “That all?”

“Yep.” She added, gesturing for him to get on his way and enjoy the break that he’d been appointed.

He headed toward the two men beside the pool table, handing them their beers and pointing toward Tig. He waved with a small smile—hoping to come off as genuine, rather than scheming.

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Giving the two men a couple of beers to throw them off the scent—or, at least, to distract them from making a fuss—was just a ploy to defer attention from the two nestled amongst the alcohol.

And it seemed to work, too.

As Tig walked around the bar to join her on the other side, Isla popped a few bottle caps, mixed a few drinks, and talked to every person that stopped off in front of the oak, without being so much as glanced at by her father.

Gemma hadn’t noticed the change, either.

“You want anything?” She asked Tig, mindlessly pouring a glass of whiskey for one of the Tacoma guys. “Some tequila?”

Indifferently, he shrugged.

“Okay, well that was helpful.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, grabbing two shot glasses, “I’ll take one, if you do, too.”

“Tig.”

“Isla.” His tone was deriding, though she couldn’t help but smile.

She pushed the whiskey toward the unfamiliar Son, thanking him for showing his face today, and turned her attention back to Tig.

In the thirty seconds in which her focus had been diverted, he’d poured two shots, grabbed some salt, and two lime wedges from underneath the counter.

She swallowed thickly, hoping to god she’d be able to play off the effects of that liquor.

Because it was only the one, wasn’t it? She was only going to have one single shot of tequila and, surely, that wasn’t enough to intoxicate her…

Right?

“Aw, fuck.” She slurred, pushing the empty bottle aside. “I really—“ she hiccuped. “I really need to stop drinking.”

“Why?” Just as garbled, he responded.

“‘Cuz I feel like I’m gonna puke.” She snorted a laugh, pushing all of the limes strewn across the redwood into the bin. “And my breath stinks of tequila.”

He waved her off, looking at his chest as he wiped the alcohol from his leathers. “Tequila don’t smell that bad.”

Isla blushed, though she fished around her purse for some gum, regardless.

And her heart fucking plummeted to the pit of her stomach when she noticed the bottle of antidepressants in the smaller compartment, suddenly realizing that her excessive alcohol consumption tonight was for sure going to mess with her.

Shit.

“Water?” He asked, holding two empty glasses. He heeded the dread in her expression, how she looked like she’d seen a fucking ghost.

“Please.”

Tig handed her one of the glasses, slinging his free arm over her shoulder—mainly in an attempt to stabilize her—and padded over to the kitchen.

The clubhouse was a little more sparse, now. Jax and Tara sat alongside Juice, Chibs, and Happy, meanwhile Gemma and Clay were meters apart from one another.

But nobody seemed to notice the lack of manpower behind that bar, which was a wonderful thing. Because Isla feared that she might’ve collapsed had she not hydrated herself.

She feared that she might’ve said, or done, something that she might’ve regretted, too.

Tequila did make her feel “hot”, after all.

“God, I need this so bad.” She practically moaned, twisting the cold water tap, haphazardly holding her glass underneath it.

Isla didn’t even shut the water off, she just chugged that slightly lukewarm—strangely beautiful—liquid like her life depended on it.

“Fuck.” She gasped for air, putting her glass atop the draining board. “Oh my god, that was so fucking good.”

Tig watched in awe.

As droplets of water trickled from her lips, and chin, to her chest, Tig subtly groaned to himself. He stifled a reaction, however.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” She nodded.

Tig held her glass underneath the tap again, filling it half way. “You want some more?”

Isla took it from him, cocking her head a little when he didn’t let go of the glass. “What?”

“How’d that tequila make you feel?”

“What?” She repeated herself, forgetting about what she told him earlier. “Oh…”

“How’d it make you feel?” He pressed, releasing his grip though lifting his hand to brush his thumb underneath her glossy lips.

“Good.” Isla stumbled over her words, watching his eyes flick over her features. She gulped, though she put the glass straight back down. “Really, really good.”

Tig jolted, though relaxed when she let her hands rest against his shoulders. He hadn’t expected this today. Or ever, really.

“How good is really really good?” He asked, twisting a couple of ringed fingers through long, loose curls.

Her heart was no longer sinking to the pit of her stomach, but fluttering wildly within her palpitating chest.

“Pretty good.”

“Right.” He caught her bluff, nodding. “I could think of something that’d make you feel really, really, really good, y’know?”

“You think?” Isla leaned into him when a hand pressed into the small of her back, and the other holding onto the nape of her neck. She shivered. “Because I think you could.”

Confidently, he bobbed his head. “Oh, I could.”

She was a bundle of nerves, frankly. Tig was so nonchalant, so breezy, and she was just so fucking fraught.

But he didn’t seem to notice—or care—while he surveyed her face, grinding his lips together in anticipation. He lowered his head a little to meet her height, though she still stood on her toes.

“Make me feel really good, Tig.” She whispered, the citrusy scent of tequila permeating his senses, quickening the rate of his pulse.

Isla’s sweet, soft lips ghosted over his own as she exuded a satisfied sigh, loosening up at the feeling of their noses brushing over one another.

It was so gentle. She hasn’t expected a man of such stature, such hunger and animosity, to be capable of something so soothing.

An unmistakable burst of desire started to seep through her, humming against his lips as she opted to wrap both arms around his neck while he backed her up against the sink.

With the support against her lower back, Isla wound a leg around his waist as the kiss amplified and Tig began to grind his hips into her whilst simultaneously moaning.

She didn’t know how badly she needed this tonight.

Pink nails wound into his unruly curls, mindlessly nudging through the hair—pushing him to hasten. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, then. Lauding the flavor of tequila and cigarettes.

But Isla promptly froze at the sound of footsteps—heels, precisely—clicking across the tile.

“Tig, wait.” She jerked her head a little, urging him to stop. “I can hear Gemma—“

“You can see her, too.” The matriarch stated, rounding the corner and immediately coming into Isla’s line of sight.

Both Tig and the blonde shifted to look at her.

“Am I interrupting something?”

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

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miikkkkkkkka · 4 years

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okay so since its annabeth's birthday today, i'm gonna make a whole ass essay about her and how perfectly imperfect she is.

okay first off, all characters had great character development. but i think annabeth is the one the fans can relate to the most in terms of this. annabeth went from 'immature 12 year old who judges everyone for everything they do and all she thinks about is winning' to someone who is way more open with her emotions and whom the seven look up to and depend on. this is just like how every one of us grew up to be more open-minded, mature, and empathetic. we all grew up and got to learn more about the world, just like how annabeth got to explore the outside world when percy came to camp and she finally got to go on a quest. (btw! imagine how Annabeth ‘constantly waiting for a quest’ Chase felt when this scrawny kid with zero training and insanely green eyes, who's been there for like, 2 weeks, got a quest so damn fast. no wonder she was kinda rude i mean, annabeth must’ve been like “WHAT DOES HE HAVE THAT I DON’T????” her pride was going crazyyyy)

thinking about it now, we aren't so sure about annabeth's 'legit' personality in pjo, she seemed so scary and unapproachable, but when you look at other books, she actually makes friends pretty fast, and people seem to really like her.

percy once said something along the lines of "we all love annabeth" in botl. when sadie and annabeth met, they became INSTANT BFFS, i remember piper saying she's never had a friend as great as annabeth, frank went to her for help with the chinese handcuffs because he KNOWS she will drop everything to help him, reyna and annabeth would definitely, without a doubt become best friends, i also think reyna had like, a really small crush on annabeth but lets not talk about that now. leo and annabeth are definitely dorky best friends who intimidate everyone with their intelligence, nico literally said "he wanted to hate annabeth, but he just couldn't. she'd gone out of her way to thank him at epirus. she was genuine and sincere. she never overlooked him or avoided him like most people did". jason definitely respects her, it's pretty obvious, and hazel was so relieved to see annabeth safe and alive after she got out of tartarus. grover and thalia love her and are basically her parents in a way, and PERCY, percy is someone who values personality, he obviously wouldn't be as in love with her as he is if she wasn't a good person. and i'm sure there are so much more examples but i'm not gonna put them all here, and plus, i can't remember them all aksjaksj.

it's honestly so disappointing how some in the fandom give annabeth shit for how she acted when she was 12-13 years old because she's matured so much since then. she's much more open-minded and empathetic towards her friends. and anyway, in defense of botl annabeth, you would be irrationally overprotective and jealous too if everyone you thought loved you (luke and her father) ended up leaving you and making you feel unloved and inadequate. annabeth thought that percy was gonna die at 16, she obviously wanted to spend his last days on earth WITH HIM. rachel made annabeth feel the way she did because she thought percy would do what luke did, and leave her for 'something better' and that 'something better' is a world away from the gods, which rachel (who is mortal), could provide him.

i honestly think that the people who don't like annabeth think what they do about her because of fanon. fanon annabeth is so far from canon annabeth. fanon annabeth (in a nutshell) is: 'a bitch' 'scary' 'unapproachable' 'cold-hearted' and so much more things that she simply ISN'T. canon annabeth on the other hand is super sweet, she cares so much about her friends and she would sacrifice herself for their happiness, she cries a lot because she has a lot of emotions (she literally cried when she left cerberus, and hugged a kitten in tartarus), she absolutely adores her boyfriend and thinks very very very highly of him, she is so in love and is not at all 'cold-hearted'.

i have so much more to say, but this is getting too long, i might make a part 2 when i feel like it but who knows? anyway, happy birthday to annabeth chase, the loml.

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rodeoxqueen · 3 years

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SMELLS LIKE QUARAN-NEROKIRI SPIRIT

Nero/Kyrie

“In quarantine, Nero and Kyrie spend time together.”

Rodeo’s Two Pieces:

First time writing for Nero/Kyrie. Tread lightly with my take of their dynamic.

(I)- Dalgona Coffee and Cookies.

Despite how everything was shut down and the grocery was found vacant of basic necessities, Nero was grateful to at least be with someone he loved the most.

“Look, we probably need some time off from kickin’ demon ass anyways,” Nico explained, smoking a cigarette during the video chat.

“Yeah, not like demons care about being six feet away. People don’t even do that.” Nero looked at himself in the little square in the corner of his phone. Clad in a grey hoodie, he hadn’t even bothered putting on anything over his boxers. No one had come to visit since the mandate to stay inside, what was the point?

Nico was in her garage again, from what he could see in the camera view. Cigarettes and old cups of coffee littered her desk, warbled country music playing off-view.

“Who knows, maybe I’ll make something to fix that. I was thinking a mask-gun, rapid-fire reloading.”

“Artisan of Arms, huh?” Nero laughed, getting up from his bed.

“You fuckin’ bet. Now I gotta go. Got some things to weld.”

“See ya, Nico. Stay safe, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He gave a peace sign before pressing “end video call.”

The video chat ended and Nero tucked his phone into his pocket. Even banter just wasn’t the same virtually.

“Who was that? Nico?” Nero made it down the hallway to see Kyrie, bustling about getting things from the cupboards.

“Yeah, still building stuff as usual.”

Kyrie had been in their apartment’s kitchen, deciding to try her hand at some recipes she saw online. A bag of flour, too many bowls, and more chocolate than Nero remembered buying, all laid out on the table.

Just when he wanted something to eat, he’d have to wait or his girlfriend would practically make enough to feed an army and be surprised when he didn’t want anymore.

He opted for a cup of water instead.

Nero admired her hair, how it looked when it wasn’t in a ponytail, how it sat perfectly on her shoulders. Seeing how she started to measure some ingredients, he took the hair tie on his wrist, careful fingers bringing it into a low ponytail.

“Oh, thank you.” She commented, opening her booklet of recipes she had handwritten. Neat, slanted cursive in a smattering of blue, red, and black read out recipes for cookies, cakes, and bread.

“You look busy, planning to make all of those?” Nero rested his chin on her shoulder, shrouding her with warmth.

“Well, I don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck at home, might as well try some recipes out. Maybe we can deliver some to the orphanage.”

“That is if I don’t eat all your prototypes first.” She laughed, birdsong to Nero’s ears.

“As long as you help me I don’t mind if you do.” Kyrie handed him a measuring cup. Nero sighed, taking it. He always lost count of how many cups of flour he was supposed to put in the bowl.

A jar of porous dough caught his eye as he sifted some baking soda in his white mixture. He took it from Kyrie’s side of the island.

“Whoa, what is this? A science experiment?” Kyrie chuckled, watching Nero scrutinize the date on the white tape to the top of the mason jar.

“No, it’s a sourdough starter! It’s basically wild yeast. We can make bread with it since people bought out all the dry yeast in the grocery store.”

Nero shook it with curiosity and then opened the silver lid, making an “eh” face at the smell.

“It’s yeast alright.”

Kyrie continued whipping up the sugar and butter mixture, Nero helping himself to a handful of chocolate chips.

“Have you talked to your uncle and father? They must be staying at the shop in Redgrave.”

Nero shrugged.

“Most likely, I haven’t talked to them yet. Dante probably didn’t pay the phone bill and Vergil doesn’t know how to use the phone anyways.”

“Let’s just hope they’re getting along during this time.”

Nero thought back to all the “family outings” he had since his uncle and father returned from hell, mostly just jobs becoming contests of strength that turned to friendly family fights. Endless banter and elbowing.

Honestly, compared to that, standing next to his girlfriend while they shaped cookies for the oven was heaven.

Once the chocolate chip cookie dough was done baking, Kyrie insisted they make some whipped coffee while they cooled.

“I thought you didn’t like coffee, Kyrie.” She stooped down to find something in the lower cabinets. A robotic hand that was colored dark blue and black, his old Devil Bringer, appeared with a tiny whisk duct-taped to it.

“Yeah, but that TikTok made it look so good.” Nero handed her the glass container of instant coffee.

Turning on the Devil Bringer, the tiny whisk spun to life, rapidly mixing sugar, coffee, and water together. With her back turned, Nero popped a thing of cookie dough in his mouth.

“Honestly, Nico should have patented these Devil Bringers, make a bunch of money, and maybe she’d stop trying to rip me off all those times.”

“Support local businesses, Nero.”

He looked over her shoulder, surprised at how an abysmal brown mixture had become fluffy and thrice its previous volume.

Two cups of milk poured, the practically instantly whipped coffee laid on top like a decadent Mount Everest next to a still-warm plate of cookies.

“Cheers!” Kyrie clinked glasses with him, stirring her mug vigorously with a spoon. He copied her, taking a sip of surprisingly light and sweet coffee.

When he lowered his cup, Nero both revealed to the world a mustache of whipped coffee.

Kyrie snorted into her cup, covering her mouth as she bit back a laugh. Embarrassed, Nero went to wipe it off when Kyrie pecked him on the lips. She drew back to reveal an imprint of the ‘stache on her own upper lip.

“We match now.” Kyrie giggled, helping herself to another gooey cookie.

Half a plate of cookies and two mugs properly drained of its contents, Kyrie and Nero loaded up the dishwasher to do the work.

“This is coffee, why am I tired?” Kyrie yawned.

The couch was this god-awful IKEA purchase that took hours for Nero to just figure out what the instructions meant. But right now, it perfectly supported both of them while they slept away their food coma.

(II)- Curl Up And Dye.

After the second time the mandate got lengthened, Nero could sense that Kyrie was starting to wane in her ever-positive attitude. The news had nothing good to say, and the number of shows they had binged left them indifferent to watching anything more.

They did a lot of singing during quarantine, Kyrie always being the musical one. Evanescence was one of their favorites to sing together, Nero’s guitar skills and Kyrie’s ability to hit those high notes left many memorable nights of laughter.

After a while, Kyrie began to just sit on the couch a lot and have Nero pay her company.

“What’s wrong?” Kyrie sighed heavily, curling into Nero’s hoodie as he opted to stay shirtless.

“I don’t know Nero, it just feels like everything is the same. We go through the same things every day and I just feel...trapped.”

Nero kissed the nape of her neck, humming in agreement.

“Look, I’m usually the one going to you for stuff like this but...it will get better. It’s been a really hard time for all of us, and we’re just watching everything go downhill. It’s not a good situation but, you got me. Always. And there’s still a lot of things we can change up if that helps.” He stroked her hair and rubbed her back, feeling her take a deep breath.

“You’re right Nero. That really did help. Thank you for listening.”

“Of course.”

While he scrolled on his own phone, he didn’t heed all the things Kyrie was watching. She touched her own long hair, seeing the way other people recorded their own home-salon trims.

“Things to change, huh?” She mumbled.

So here they were now.

“It looks so bad!” Kyrie exclaimed, her face in her hands, hair on the bathroom sink. Nero shook his head.

“No it’s not, Kyrie! You look fine, just let me fix it!” In the mirror, Nero cringed at the way her hair was ridiculously over-layered.

“Um, what did you try to do-”

“Curtain bangs! Oh Nero, I shouldn’t have tried to change up my hair!” Kyrie was thoroughly upset, seeing how her bout of bravery lead to her bangs being mauled by her own hands.

Nero hugged her, noting that she had been wearing his shirt while she trimmed her hair.

Okay that shirt’s gonna itch for a while until all the hair comes out.

“It’s okay, let me see if I can fix it.” Kyrie blushed in the mirror, groaning at how bad her hair was cut.

“There’s no way you could make it worse than what I did.”

Nero gingerly took the scissors Kyrie put in the sink, a little bit too small for his hands but good enough. Although he was no stylist, he could tell where Kyrie had either cut too much off or unevenly.

Eventually, they did manage to cut it in a way that hid the previous mistakes. Kyrie took another deep breath.

“I shouldn’t have been so impulsive.” She murmured, arms crossed.

Nero chuckled at her rare emotional outburst. He was glad to have been able to be there for her. She always hid how she felt, helping others her way of expressing herself. Now with no one around but him, he totally understood that she felt helpless.

No one liked being helpless.

He kissed her cheek and a lightbulb went off in his head.

“You wanna dye my hair?” Kyrie turned around in surprise.

“What?”

“I mean, who knows how long this shutdown is gonna be, it’ll be fun,” Kyrie noted how Nero had forgone shaving, his peach fuzz becoming something more.

Honest blue eyes peered at her, wondering what she would think. Her surprise softened to a sort of relief in their solidarity.

“What color, Nero?”

“Neon green-”

“Nico’s going to make fun of you.” Kyrie giggled. Nero shrugged nonchalantly.

“I don’t mind it.”

(III)- Can’t Get Out Of It, Get Into It.

“Nero, you look so fucking ridiculous.”

“Shut up, Dante.”

His uncle finally managed to figure out how to work the virtual chat on his fossil of a computer, and Nero was already prepared to end the call.

His father sat slightly off-camera, not in the mood to entertain Dante’s antics to ridicule his son. Although, he did look oddly radioactive with his washed-out green hair and strong quarter-past five o’clock shadow.

“Quarantine did not do you a favor, good lord,” Dante commented, kicking his feet up on his desk. Nero flipped him off.

“Good to know you’re still living in shambles, not surprised neither of you cleaned up after yourselves.” The number of bottles on the floor was a travesty and the couch littered with poetry books Vergil had slowly begun to hoard.

Nico entered the zoom call, smoking another cigarette Nero was lucky to not have to smell.

“Nice broccoli head.”

Nero flipped her off as well. Kyrie came into view, smiling at her boyfriend’s family and their shared friends. Nero decided to get a drink, clicking a few buttons before letting Kyrie have the seat.

As they discussed how the business would continue with Devil May Cry, Kyrie sat next to Nero.

It was mainly business, until it got to a certain line that Dante said.

“I don’t know, it just feels like things are just going to keep staying like this. Hate to break it to you Nero, but it’s going to be tough for a while.”

Kyrie finally heard enough, scooching Nero aside so she could talk.

“Kyrie, wait-”

“We’re going to get past this. As long as humanity still keeps coming together for the sake of benefiting each other, and we keep working to make sure to keep safe, we will get past this. We just have to keep hoping, and sure, hoping isn’t always going to make you feel better. I would know. But in a time where we do feel helpless, we should connect with other people in a different way. That’s why we succeed, we keep moving, we keep adapting! And hope, hope keeps that going.”

Kyrie took a long breath. Looking at the dumbfounded group, she waited for a response.

“Um, Kyrie. You were muted.” Nero finally said. Kyrie realized her blunder and how Nero’s hand was attempting to unmute them.

“Oh.” Kyrie flushed, looking embarrassed.

“I have no idea what you just said, but that’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, that was so awkward.”

“Don’t worry yourself, Kyrie. I bet it was real sweet whatever you had to say,” Nico assured.

The zoom call was full of laughter since, a business call turned to a time to discuss how each person was doing.

Dante and Vergil had spent days and nights sparring, Vergil learning more about humanity from Dante, and “making their own pizzas.”

Nico had continued welding and making weapons for her own curiosity rather than based off of commission-based instructions. The van finally had the vinyl player fixed and she apparently gave herself a stick-and-poke.

“So what did you two love birds do?” Nico asked, lighting another cancer stick.

Nero and Kyrie looked at each other, smiling at their shared memories of this strange period in human history.

“Where do we even start?” Kyrie said, thinking of all the days and nights that seemed to breeze by and also slowly progress.

Nero ruffled his longer messy green hair, Kyrie tucking her curtain bangs behind her ear. As they were two peas in the pod, Nero had decided to get another set of gray sweats for Kyrie, matching finally.

Kyrie bit into a cookie, offering Nero some.

“Smells like quarantine spirit, huh?” Dante finger-gunned.

Nero chuckled.

“Hell yeah.”

#nirvana and dominic fike reference?#nirvana and dominic fike reference #not much vergil in this work i do not care for the man today #nero x kyrie #nerokiri #devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #nero sparda #kyrie #dmc kyrie #dante sparda #vergil sparda #nicoletta goldstein

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years

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Albatross - Tom Hardy smut

The one where your bond is revealed when you become of age and present, but your mate is your father’s best friend.

Warnings: smut, p in v, oral sex (f) a/b/o dynamics, age difference, dirty talk, curse words

A/N: Here it is, folks! One of my favorite fics that I had planned for this kinktober. I love this concept so much that I think I might create a second version of it someday. For now, let me remind you that the prompts were a/b/o dynamics and age difference, but I made sure to keep the reader’s age open to interpretation so no one would feel uncomfortable. You can pretend that the presentation age in this universe is 18, 20, 21 or 25 - or whatever else! It’s really up to you.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I could feel that something was off from the second I woke up. Like the world that I’d woken up to wasn’t the same I’d left the night before. Like suddenly, everything had turned in their axis and I was left scrambling around to understand the change.

Still, I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Call it a gut feeling. As a pack’s Alpha, I knew it was wise to trust mine. But without any clear evidence of something being out of place, all it left me with was this paranoid feeling of uncertainty.

That was, until news broke out of my Beta’s house, also known as my best friend.

“Y/N’s presenting,” he told me, a pained look on his face that I could perfectly understand. It shouldn’t be easy to lose an offspring, to see them grow up and become ready for the taking, but it was part of life, at least for us.

“What’s her status?” I asked, nodding patiently at him as I placed a firm hand over his shoulder, wanting to calm him down. He hesitated for a bit before answering.

“Omega.” I understood his hesitancy. Unmated omegas had a hard time even in packs, especially during heats, since Alphas couldn’t really control their instincts around them. At least, they needed that same connection, which could make the situation more acceptable, as it constituted at least some sort of consensual bond, but the fact of the matter was that omegas needed alphas to get through their heats, or they’d die, and a decision made in need wasn’t much of an actual decision in any sense.

Still, I was their Alpha and I knew I had to calm them down, so I did just so, the only way I could think of.

“I’m sure that when she gets over these first few days of fever, she’ll find her mate, Chris. Try not to worry too much about it. We have a lot of good, strong, eligible alphas in the pack, certainly one of them is her mate.” Of course, one of those alphas was me, but the possibility didn’t even cross my mind. She had just reached maturity, I was over forty and I’d seen her grow up. I was there the day she was born, I’d have noted if we had that sort of... special connection.

Of course, rationally, I knew it was possible. The truth was that the bond only made itself known after both parts present, but I still found it impossible to consider that a girl I had cradled in my arms right after her birth would be my mate.

My friend nodded, thanking me for the support, and I watched him and his wife try to get through the day before they had to go back home and take care of their daughter. I commended myself for a job well done, hoping that now that the surprise had been clarified, that anxious feeling would disappear.

It didn’t. I could barely sleep that night, my senses in overdrive as I moved around in bed. It was like my body thought there was an upcoming battle and it was trying to prepare itself to deal with it. My heart was beating at a level that pumped the adrenaline coursing through my veins even faster, and by the time the sun rose up in the horizon, I had maybe taken a couple of naps. Actual rest had been absolutely impossible.

Still, until the danger that my instincts were catching onto actually appeared, there wasn’t much that I could do. There was, however, a lot that I had to do as pack leader, and so I tried to get on with my day as if nothing was wrong. I couldn’t very well leave my members worried over something that I didn’t even know what it was. So after I ate some breakfast, I left my cabin to get on with my day, starting of course with a visit to my best friend’s house. As my Beta, he would know what I should prioritize that day.

Also, I figured it was the polite thing to do, check on Y/N and see if she was feeling better after her presentation. She was a part of my pack, after all. What I wasn’t expecting, however, was for her family to be gathered in the main hall, along with several other members, and that the moment I went through those doors, the only thing I could see was her.

The smell of oranges and basil hit my nose, inebriating my senses, and I had to hold onto the threshold of the cabin’s door to steady myself. Of course, the lack of balance and the crackling noise the wood made as I broke some of the structure I was holding onto caught everyone’s attention, but no one seemed to understand what was going on with me.

Until Y/N whimpered, her eyes connected with mine as she visibly trembled where she stood. The second that sound escaped her lips I knew everyone had caught on to what was happening, especially her father. But at that very instant I lost every amount of self-control I had managed to gather through my years as a leader and I couldn’t care less about what Chris or anyone else was thinking. All I knew was there was my mate, she was still unmarked, and there were far too many alphas surrounding her.

I made my way over to her so fast I was almost sure I had jumped or ran. In the back of my mind I noticed that people stepped aside to let me make my way to her, but I was too far gone to actually process the information. All that mattered was her. I needed to get her out of here, and soon.

The closer I got to her, the stronger was her scent. I was growling by the time I pulled her to me and threw her over my shoulder. It was an animalistic gesture of ownership, but it was all my mind could come up with at that moment. I just needed to get her out of there.

It was then that a particular smell hit my nose. Alpha. Turning around, I recognized her father through the haze I was currently under. It seemed like he was trying to calm me down, I could see from his lips’ motions that he was saying my name, but I couldn’t care less what he had to say to me at that moment. He was stopping me from claiming my mate. He was a threat to my bonding and I couldn’t have that.

The second I bared my teeth to him, however, he seemed to understand that there was no talking me out of what was happening.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I don’t know if it was Tom’s threat or my pained whimper that stopped my father from interfering, but I was glad to see his retreating form, mainly because it meant that I was one step closer to leaving this room and the god awful smells of random alphas that surrounded me.

It was so putrid that it burned, hurting my insides and making me hold my stomach in an effort to calm down the cramps that were threatening to kill me. A whimpered pain escaped my lips and suddenly Tom’s hands were around me, howling me up and throwing me over one of his shoulders.

The second his hands touched my sweaty skin, I let out a breathy sigh of relief, the close proximity to my Alpha instantly sufficing to calm me down, at least for now. I knew that for me to actually feel okay again, we’d have to complete the bonding.

A shiver went down my spine as the reality of my situation broke a bit of the fever I was currently under. I was about to be claimed by my Alpha, who also happened to be the pack’s Alpha.

Not only that, but I was about to have sex for the first time, and with my father’s best friend, someone I’d known since I was a kid. Someone I used to consider sort of an uncle. At least that awkwardness from my part had disappeared as I approached my teenage years and started to realize just how attractive Tom was. It was no secret that the unmated Alpha was desired by many women - and some men - in the pack, including the teenage girls who’d follow him around with a love sick expression as soon as their hormones kicked in.

The only thing that stopped me from being one of those girls was the embarrassment over the fact that he was a constant presence on our family meals, always teasing me and making me laugh.

That was what I was thinking about when the world turned to its rightful place, Tom having gently lowered me to my feet again. Before I could even rationalize that I should probably snap out of it and fake a smile, his finger was under my chin, tipping my head up to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” A resigned sigh escaped my lips, knowing I would never be able to hide anything from him, not when he was my true mate and my Alpha. I guess I’d have to get used to this.

“It’s just… This is a bit weird, isn’t it?” I managed to explain, my heart pounding as I feared some sort of resentment or anger from him. Besides, I was also still wrestling with the overwhelming mix of emotions and hormones that tried to take over my body, wanting to make sure I’d never leave this cabin unmated.

But that wasn’t Tom. Even if he was scary from afar, and downright threatening and aggressive when needed, he was also gentle and caring towards his pack members, especially when they were vulnerable.

That was definitely my case now. Also, I was his mate - I had to keep reminding myself of that, it still didn’t feel real - and it was ludicrous of me to even consider that he would ever treat me as anything less than a princess. Even before, he’d always reserved that sort of treatment for me, his “little girl”, as he’d often call me.

So he mirrored my sigh, his arm reaching out to hold my hand in his, and I automatically gravitated closer to him, desperate to feel his warmth on my skin, to know that he was close to me. I knew it was biological, but it felt like something so much deeper. It felt like a calling from the soul.

“Yes, it is weird.” I don’t know why, but the second those words left his lips, I felt the tenseness from my body disappear, my muscles relaxing as he held me close to his chest in a very welcomed hug. Something about knowing that he felt the same way as I did calmed me down, made me feel like this was okay, somehow.

Neither of us knew what was going to happen, but we were going to find out together. We had each other now, and hopefully, forever.

Then, a new wave of cramps hit me, making me double over and startling Tom, who released me so I could hold my stomach, but then tried to reach out to me in whatever way he could find, desperate to know what was going on.

“The cramps…” I explained as best as I could, grabbing onto the front of his shirt in an effort to hold myself up. “... They’re starting again.” Once again, Tom’s strong hands were there to rescue me, and soon he had hoisted me up in a bridal position so he could carry me up the stairs, where his bedroom was located.

Tom’s P.O.V.

“Shhh… You’re gonna be okay, princess. You’re gonna get through this.” God, there wasn’t even a bond between us and I was already feeling her pain. I desperately wanted to help her, make it go away. I could feel the need to protect deep in my bones, trying to once again snap my control, but although I knew what was the only thing that could help her, I still needed her to be okay with this first.

“Tom… Tom, please, help me.” I pushed strands of her hair away from her sweaty face, and she whimpered underneath me, sweat already starting to make her skin glisten underneath my fingertips. I ached to lick it, taste her on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t feel like I could do it. Not yet.

“Tell me what you need,” I pressed, cradling her face between my palms. “Tell me how I can help.”

“You,” she breathed out, and I could see the desperation in her beautiful eyes. It hurt my chest, and once again the Alpha inside of me tried to claw its way to the front of my brain. “I need you to kiss me. Please, kiss me.”

She really didn’t have to say twice. I was dying to taste her lips since I saw her that morning. So I leaned over her, bringing her to meet me halfway by my grip on her jaw, and the second that our lips touched, I was a goner.

So soft, she was just so soft. Her mouth danced with mine and it felt like velvet against my chapped lips and the way she moaned when I licked on her bottom lip, prying it open, made a deep, possessive growl escape from deep within my chest.

“You smell so good.” I barely recognized my own voice as it came raspier than usual when I forced ourselves to separate so she could catch her breath. I’d happily suffocate if it meant I could keep on kissing her, but it was my job to make sure she would be okay.

I rubbed my nose over her shoulder, looking for the scent gland on her neck and nuzzling it upon my discovery. God, even if I wasn’t on my rut yet, this felt overwhelming, in the best possible way. But I could feel the need to mate rising from within me, and I couldn’t let it take over yet.

It didn’t seem like Y/N was all that opposed to my carnal needs, however, if the way she climbed on my lap to pull me back to her lips by the back of my neck was anything to go by. I still had it in me to chuckle against her mouth, amused by her eagerness, but that was only before she started to rub herself against me, whimpering desperately as she clawed at my shirt.

“Hot… It’s so hot in here. I need to -” I was still so dumbfounded over her last actions that it didn’t strike me what she was about to do until her dress was already on the floor, and I was staring at the practically naked young woman on my lap.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Heat, it was all I felt besides the overwhelming emptiness that made my pussy clench sporadically around nothing. By that point, I couldn’t think of anything else. The pain had been replaced by this burning desire for the man in front of me, but it was burning so brightly that it was threatening to start hurting me, too.

“Knot…” I managed to say, despite my usual embarrassment to say that word, or the next phrase that so easily fell from my lips. “I need your knot.” Tom suddenly tightened his grip on my waist, and I whimpered from the pressure, but also relished in it. I knew there’d be marks, and just the thought of them made the wetness that was already gathering in my pussy start to drip onto my panties.

“Fuck, I can fuckin’ smell you, princess. You’re fucking dripping for me, aren’t you?” I could only whine in response. Tom took me off his waist, but before I could complain, he laid me down on his bed, crawling over me. “I need to prepare you, little one. I know it’s your first time, and even if you’re in heat right now and I’m your mate, I don’t want you suffering, okay?”

Whereas normally I would have melted at his preoccupation, the idea of his preparation only registered in my brain as a delay from my goal, that was to be filled with his cock, so I wailed while he worked on taking off my bra.

“Why is this so fucking hard?” He complained, the strap escaping from his fingers as he couldn’t seem to have the patience to actually do it properly. “Fuck this shit.” A gasp resonated around the room as he ripped the lace tissue from my chest, but then he was growling and latching himself on one of my nipples, licking and sucking and it made the burn between my legs worsen.

“Please, Alpha, please!” I don’t think he would have been able to separate himself from my breasts if I hadn’t called his presentation. Since it was the first time he was hearing it, though, his head whipped up, and he looked directly at me, seemingly astounded by that simple word.

“Please…” I whispered again, and that snapped him out of his reverie, making him deposit wet kisses all over my stomach as I thrashed around the bed, trying to force him down faster.

“I’ll take care of you, omega.” My panties, the last piece of clothing left on me, met the same fate as my bra, and then I was naked, spread open for Tom’s eyes to explore me. He licked his lips hungrily, noting, “You’re soaked already,” right as he lowered himself to deposit a kiss over my navel.

“J-just one of the reasons w-why y-you don’t have to do this,” I tried to reason with him, knowing that he had the best of intentions, but I needed his freaking knot sooner rather than later.

“Have to? I’m dying to taste your glistening little pussy. It’s calling out to me, angel.” That was the only warning I got before his mouth descended upon me, engulfing my whole pussy like it was nothing more than an open buffet for him to satiate his primal hunger.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I’d never tasted anything like her pussy before. Immediately, I knew that I’d be spending a lot of my following evenings with my head between her gorgeous legs, licking away at her little clit, and fucking her hole with my tongue.

“You taste like fucking candy,” I growled against her cunt, appreciating the downright filthy sounds that my slurping was creating against her wetness. Pushing my tongue as far as it could reach inside of her hole, I noticed how it pulsed against me, and I couldn’t wait to feel it around my cock.

But first… “I have to prepare you,” I said it out loud, to remind both her and me that nothing else was happening before I could get through this task. Normally, I wouldn’t consider it a hazard at all, I loved making a woman cry out with pleasure underneath me - and this was my mate, not just any woman - but I knew she needed to have me inside of her soon, and quite frankly, I didn’t know how much longer I could hold myself back either.

I pushed one finger inside of her as I continued to suck on her clit, immediately pushing another as she was already really wet and her pussy stretched easily to welcome any sort of thickness inside of it, since she was on her heat. Pretty soon I was able to put a third one, and I pulled away from her pussy just enough to watch my digits going in and out of her.

“Now, that’s fucking hot.” Her thighs trembled on each side of me and her moans became more high-pitched, and I understood that she was about to cum, so I lowered myself to lick her again and that was when she tumbled over the edge, crying out my name and my presentation consecutively, her legs wrapping themselves around my head to keep me where I was.

As soon as the waves crashed down and I was able to detach myself from her, though, it became clear that it hadn’t been enough. She needed me, and now I felt like I could finally give what she needed to her.

“You ready, princess?” I made sure of it as I rushed to open my jeans and get my cock out, groaning as the feeling of my fist around it was enough to make it throb. It’d been hard and ready and pulsing ever since I saw my mate.

“Yes, please, please, Alpha!” With another animalistic growl, I slowly pushed myself inside of her, only stopping when I bottomed out. I wanted to wait until she was ready, I knew she’d be much more receptive to the penetration thanks to her state, but I guessed it would still feel uncomfortable on some level.

Apparently, I was wrong.

“Fuck me, please, Tom, MOVE!” At that last request, I fully let myself go, allowing the Alpha to take over and claim his mate like he needed it to. I slipped out of her before easily manhandling her on her stomach, barking at her to present for her Alpha, and the second her pretty little pussy was thrusted up against me again, I pushed in and started pounding her.

“Fuck, little one, look at you… Taking your first cock so well. Your mate’s cock, angel. You won’t ever get to know how another feels like, will you? Because you’re mine. I’ve waited so long for a mate, for you, and you’re here now. You’re all mine, ‘mega.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I cried out both at his words and at the pressure I felt as his cock’s head speared against my cervix. It hurt, but it hurt so good, there were literal tears falling from my eyes on the mattress underneath me.

“Yours, I’m all yours,” I managed to gasp, and it spurred him on. I couldn’t even identify when he thrusted out of me, I felt so full and the emptiness was fulfilled and all I wanted was to keep this high forever.

“Tell me that again,” he ordered, making me whine as his hips kept pounding against my ass, the slaps echoing around the room.

“I’m yours, Alpha. Please, don’t stop!”

“‘m not gonna stop, I’m never gonna stop fucking you.” With a howl, I felt his knot pop open inside of me, prompting my release just as he pulled me up to carve his teeth on my neck. He kept slowly grinding against me, like he couldn’t get enough, and it made me laugh but also moan in satisfaction as he started to lick over his mark on my skin.

“Mine,” he whispered afterwards, when he managed to adjust us so we were both spooning on his bed, his knot still keeping us connected and bringing me a comfortable feeling of belonging I’d never felt before.

“Yours,” I repeated, caressing the hand with which he groped one of my breasts. “All yours, Alpha. You’re not alone anymore.”

#tom hardy #tom hardy smut #tom hardy reader #tom hardy imagine #smut #my fics #kinktober #kinktober 2020 #tom hardy imagines #tom hardy writing #tom hardy writings #tom hardy alpha #alpha au #tom hardy oneshot #tom hardy fanfiction

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dumbdemonslayertexts · 3 years

Text

random excerpts from black girl time travel kny au

Pairing: rengoku / oc

note: lots of angst mostly. forgive me for this not being y/n format i have to work up the chops to be graceful enough to write that

tagging @dudeandduchess and @adoriable and @tengens-bunny bc they sparked the greatest muse i’ve ever had to write fictions since i was like 14 literally wtf you are my queens???!?!

even with her mind working double overtime to secure her discomfort, the serenity if the rengoku estate could not be diminished. imene tried her hardest to remember any time prior to her time shift where she saw the moon so brilliantly illuminating the earth below it. each blade of grass, every stone in the garden reflected its glow; the whole of her surroundings were accented with such a pure silvery lining, giving a beauty distinctive to the night alone. it was tranquil enough for her to eventually draw a cleansing breath through her lungs, which finally released some of the staleness of doubt and second guessing that had filled her self image lately.

“you are awake still, imene-chan?”

that voice struck her in her chest, shooting sparks of heat and flutters in her stomach. and the fact that she was hearing it meant he was home. safe. and home.

“imene,” she softly insisted, making him smile as though he were being teased.

“imene.” his voice was warmer when he said her name, she would swear to it. and it stirred in her heart almost painfully with the need to hold him forever.

“i couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged off her dilemma, far more preoccupied in the happiness of seeing him, falling into those gorgeously untamed eyes and sweet smile again… “i’m happy to see you!”

“kyojuro.”

when the depth of his rich tone interjected his name, it caught her by surprise. and, true to form, he hadn’t needed her to say a word before reading her thoughts and emotions with complete accuracy.

“wh–?”

he lessened the distance between them, tucking his chin to sustain her eye contact where she sat, “imene… would you say it for me?”

the shadow of pessimism in her brain was shouting. he was easing the lines of formality as a kindness—-it was his vibrant character and nothing more. why was she so dense as to not even understand that? why did a simple name make her world feel brighter, and have her smiling to him, lovestruck?

“kyojuro.”

he smiled. with utter bliss, he smiled at her, exhaling like she’d lifted a weight from him. “ah… i prefer that, i think… don’t you?"

just like that, the playfulness was back in his voice and eyes. though, another element felt as though it had been added unto it. one she was far too daunted to even hope to name. so she changed the subject.

"how’re you feeling..?” she asked, lifting herself to stand, “you’re not hurt anywhere, are you? did you get any sleep or did you come right–”

she’d closed the remaining space between them as she fretted over him. ginger, worrying hands grazed butterfly touches up his chest, and the moment she’d made the mistake of tenderly cupping his face, his grin vanished… along with the delusion of pleasant standing she had dared hoped for with anyone there. it took so very little, but reality struck her like frozen lead.

the subtlest way she could, imene lowered her touch away from him, even as she felt stony ice fill her stomach at his reaction. she could feel how he’d stiffened just before she took her hands away. so then, at that very second with how clear things had become, finality settled into her. still, she wished he would have just lunged his blade through her gut instead; the pain would have been so much less.

“i–” kyojuro tried his best to play off the disgust, to turn the awkwardness in any other emotional direction. the poor thing even had the courtesy to look remorseful—-very convincingly, at that. god, how noble could one man be to still be kind and gentlemanly even now, trying to play off repulsion as he so obviously was? “no, i am not injured, i am feeling well! but i wished to return home as quickly as i could once i’d fulfilled my assignment. so, yes, i made the decision to return directly. i hope you haven’t been up out of worry for me.”

he was even back to beaming a smile by then, close-eyed and cheerful. she could only give half the heart in her attempt to smile back, barely nodding to acknowledge his answer. the bolt of dejection was still scalding in her chest, trying its best to well tears into her eyes.

“what is it?”

he asked after she’d broken eye contact with him for a time. imene had needed the privacy to blink down the urge to cry.

“i’m …ready to go back to oyakata-sama’s estate. but i was kind of worried of how much trouble it would be to ask if he would take me in a second time… i didn’t know if it would be rude to him,” she tried to sound as casual as she possibly could, asking softly, like it were nothing more than a passing thought over an inevitable eventuality instead of a conscious decision of hers. but from the look on kyojuro’s face, she may as well has torn a hole through him.

“has something happened?”

he was so concerned. kyojuro sounded so hurt and concerned that the prickling of tears threatened her lashes again. even with his aversion to her, she could not stand to see someone so sweet and kind be hurt. “no…”

“please, imene, if you were upset by anything that happened while i was away–”

“i wasn’t, kyojuro,” she insisted, pleading.

“are you unhappy?” he asked. and it broke her heart to hear just how willing he was to remedy whatever issue she may have experienced just by the tone of his voice, especially after just returning from a mission, “you don’t have to hesitate to tell me if I have failed to host you well.”

“you haven’t failed anything. i’m not unhappy. but I can–” dread made the words catch in her throat, but it was too late for her to retract anything now, “feel that I’m making everyone uncomfortable."

she waited for him to say something, but the flame hashira only looked at her in pained confusion, stunned and churning his brain to unravel her meaning.

"your father does not want me in your home, kyojuro. i’m a stranger to him—-in fact, I’m pretty sure he can sense that i don’t belong here,” she explained. he was faintly shaking his head, but even with the urge to protest, kyojuro could not deny that truth. “and senjuro–”

“he adores you,” kyojuro desperately interjected. her lips parted to negate it, but he continued before she could. and suddenly, there was a visible glimmering in his sunborn eyes, “he’s told me. many times, everyday we spend together. you…” his face softened from the accosted state she’d frozen it into earlier, and he paused his hurried explanations, “ease him. from our father. even though it is nowhere in your responsibility, you comfort him.”

“him liking me is just going to strain things between the two of them even more,” she shook her head, trying physically to mash the stress out of her temples, “that can’t be worth it, i don’t know how long I’ll even be in this time!”

“you would be surprised at its worth, imene."

her conscience screamed at her to look at him, and she refused for as long as she could… just for knowing how gutting it would be to do. decency prevailed over her to finally grant him enough to at least meet his eyes, though. and the way his soul cried out to her through them left her destroyed.

"i’m so sorry to have made you uncomfortable in my home. you needn’t worry about speaking with oyakata-sama, that is my responsibility, i will take care of it.”

he was resigned and sullen. It was almost impossible to tell with how genuinely he retained a positive outlook despite anything, but imene could see the sadness shining in his fiery stare, even with how radiant his grin was. she could also note how the sure grip of his sword had lessened to self-soothing strokes with his thumb at its hilt. “In the morning, I’ll make the arrangements for you. …I hope you believe me, imene, about senjuro. It’s been some time since he’s had …a loving woman around him. he isn’t likely to remember our mother well. what you’ve given with your presence is precious to him. priceless, I would say.”

he gave her an elegiac curve of his lips, and the water blurring her sight conquered her at last, dripping tears so heavy they fell straight to the ground, without a trace left on her cheeks.

“as for our father… he has been this way for a while. it is him. or, it’s what he has become, not a result of your being here. his callousness falls onto senjuro and myself normally, but I suppose you provided a new outlet for it …” he sighed, “it doesn’t excuse my negligence, but i will speak to him, you have my word.”

when she swept her eyes free of more accumulating tears, she felt kyojuro’s palms encircling her arms. it was a touch she had been desiring from the moment these feelings for him had begun to surface, yet when she felt it, she recoiled as if she were burned.

“imene,” he begged quietly. she still tried to keep her tone even.

“but you, kyojuro.”

confusion seeped into the misery soaking his expression, and his brow curled again to search for some hidden meaning in her words. his hands were away from her, though, the instant she showed discomfort.

“you’re the most uncomfortable around me of the three of you. you’re disgusted when i come close to touching you, you can’t even stand to be near me, in the same room, you’re always double checking to see if i’m up to something down every hall and in every room, and around your brother—-i can’t stay here and make you feel like that in your own home! especially when you’re out saving people and risking your life constantly! why would you even want me here if i make you so ill at ease—why would you want to come home to that kind of feeling after all you do!”

she hated how much heat she could feel under her skin–behind her eyes, in her cheeks and nose, at her ears. even more, she hated the pinched and congested whine her emotive state rendered her voice to, like some indignant child. it was humiliating to say aloud to him—-to verbalize just how awfully her self-regard had been eaten away, and to at last face it herself. now her cheeks and chin lay adorned with sheening wet streaks. she couldn’t hide any of it any longer. stillness followed after. not a word spoken, only the amplification of her breaths rattling and struggling to calm against rengoku’s measured silence.

when she could bear to raise her head again, imene could see him in what looked to be a deep epiphany. a terrible one. like his actions had only know processed into awareness for him, and had left him reflecting in horror.

“imene.”

he lifted his eyes enough for her to come into view, and his own lashes were starry now, blacker with the moisture accumulating at their base, in spite of the soft grin he wore, “i’m afraid i have to correct you. you said i haven’t failed in caring for you well. but i have done exactly that.

"would you come and sit with me,” he propositioned when she said no more. he’d expected nothing less when she could only look away from him with clenched, leaking eyes, so clearly pained that it ripped his heart to shreds. kyojuro was patient to await her answer, and held out his arm for her when she surprisingly accepted. imene had assumed that they would both share the space on the engawa she’d taken before his return. instead, he lead them to a more secluded area of the estate’s garden, on a stone bench that provided ample view of the night time, and allowed an unstifled breeze to cool them both that she greatly appreciated.

“i must apologize.”

“you did already.”

kyojuro glanced over his shoulder, hearing her delicate assurance. it surged through him, littering his skin in goosebumps.

out of consideration of how small their shared seat would be, he had crowded himself at the corner by her side. it allowed them both room for their legs, considering how widely his sat apart, but he could admit there there was a high element of shame that made it more difficult to face her. “yes, and it is not at all adequate for how i’ve hurt you.”

every time he spoke, sounding like he cared, she could do nothing but weep more. somehow, in spite of everything, his sympathy hurt more than anything else. and made her feel horrible for not being acceptable. “you can’t help how you feel, rengoku-s–”

“kyojuro."

his eyes met hers with stone solid conviction that she couldn’t understand. for someone who disliked her so palpably, he was intent on establishing friendly casualness between them that gave her a migraine trying to comprehend. his next words went far enough to bring a knot to her brow. "you’re right, i can’t. but to have acted on those feelings so poorly is shameful."

"acted on them poorly?”

“you were manifested in oyakata-sama’s estate. a refugee he deemed to have been brought here for divine reason. he is our leader in this fight we have undertaken against evil. he is the head of our organization, to be honored and respected.”

“it seemed that way,” her faint voice commented.

“yes. for that reason, and more i can’t explain now. understand, if my master says to me that you are precious, to be cared for, i wouldn’t ever dishonor that, nor you.”

now he’d given her her own shocking epiphany. it was slow to unravel itself with how meticulously he explained, frustratingly peeling away with the more he revealed to her in this less than receptive state that her mortification left her in.

“i wished to fulfill the role of your caretaker as best as i could. but as a hashira, i am frequently called away for extensive periods,” he gradually began to turn himself round, now diagonally beside her rather than perpendicular, “you are out of my direct sight for so long that i force you to tolerate my overcompensating once i return. i want you adjusted well, to not be overwhelmed or confused, or grieved with being alone. i wished to watch over you closely in case you were to need me.”

“oh…”

“and your nearness…” he began again, “imene, you were brought here under my protection. not only for me to oversee your healing wounds, but for your safe keeping all together. you are my charge. but i took this upon myself before knowing you—-i was not prepared for you to be so gentle and loving, and to possess warmth that i have not felt in so many years. you emanate affection–your spirit could even bring out playfulness in tokito-san. and your strength is one i have only seen in one other in my life."

she wanted to cry again, now. and was well on her way, hearing this perfect man speak of her so glowingly. out of nowhere.

"your peculiar beauty was something i was prepared to disregard. i am from a family of uncommon features; i willed myself to overlook the uniqueness of your eyes as many do mine, and to not be stricken with the comeliness of your hair, or with the beauty of your delicate complexion—-one i have never seen, and that i now will never forget. i convinced myself of it only being the allure of one sent from the heavens. i was mistaken, and then overcome."

"you—-” her voice broke, weighted with the sobs fighting to bubble out of her chest, “i don’t understand…”

“you are the most beautiful woman i have ever set eyes on, imene. my dreams could not even create anyone nearly as bewitching. and i swore to ignore it, until you showed yourself equally as beautiful in your soul.”

▷▷ part 2

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny imagines #kny rengoku #kny kyojuro #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku kyōjurō #kyojuro rengoku #demon slayer #demon slayer rengoku #demon slayer kyojuro #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba

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paisley-print · 3 years

Text

3:00am : George Strait Sang It Better.

About: The two of you make your way home from the bar...

Rating: SFW

Word count: 1635

Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Warnings: HEAVY ANGST I AM SO SORRY (no I’m not hehehe), Curse words, fluff, mentions of death, grief, mentions of alcohol, mentions of vom*t ,implied age gap.

NOTE: Not me making myself cry....not that. Also I love country music y'all can square up on me if you like. I find it funny how I am turning this satire of a character into a Nicholas sparks protagonist. Wild.

MIDNIGHT MASTER LIST

3:00am : George Strait Sang It Better

“I’m not drunk.”

Jack had you slung over his shoulder “I don’t believe that’s a correct statement.”

“Are you proud of me for beating all those guys at pool?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I am sugar, you know…. I think the whole bar was lookin’ to take you home after that.”

Jack had spent most of the night sitting back and watching you interact with the other patrons. How you flitted about like a little fairy; all giddy and flushed from the alcohol. He enjoyed seeing men and women ogle over you. The looks on their faces when he scooped you up to leave was priceless.

“Wha?! No! Only you can take me home!”

He smirked “that is right babygirl- only me.”

You giggled and whispered to him, “Jack?”

He whispered back to you “what?”

“May I smack your ass please?”

You heard him chuckle “only cuz you asked so nicely.”

You gave his ass a light tap “boop”

“Excuse me mam I said smack not a boop. My ass is too incredible to have it booped.”

“Well, I booped you- watcha gonna do about it?”

“Might not help you take off your makeup when we get home.”

You gasped dramatically, “you wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me honey,” he shot back.

You cleared your throat, “wait, put me down.”

His brows knit together, “you gotta throw up?”

You hummed in response.

He took you by the waist and placed you down, keeping his hands there to make sure you didn’t take a header into the brick wall.

Before he could react you flashed him a bright grin, broke from his touch and proceeded to skip down the street. It took him a second to realize he had been conned; he had to jog a little to keep up with you. “Girl, where in the hell do you think you’re goin’?....... y/n?”

“Do you hear that?” You asked, rounding the corner onto a totally empty side street. This side of town was mostly strip malls and county buildings. A record store was playing music from inside...it floated through the street and echoed lazily into the humid June night. “My father used to sing this song to me.”

The song was a cover of ‘Cross My Heart’ written by George Strait but sung by Dierks Bentley. “God I haven’t heard this song in years” you breathed, making your way into the street and laying down under the streetlamp. You sang along, “I cross my heart And promise to, Give all I’ve got to give, To make all your dreams come true.”

Jack stood off to the side, getting more and more frustrated. “I’m not gonna scrape you off the sidewalk if you get hit.”

You laughed, unable to see that he was upset…. “hit by what? All the cars?” The street was completely deserted, most everybody was home in bed. “You will always be the miracle, That makes my life complete, And as long as there’s a breath in me, I’ll make yours just as sweet.”

Jack shook his head, shifting uneasily on his feet.

It was an absolutely beautiful night- full moon, warm, not a single cloud obstructing the sky. You gasped and sat up “Jack please dance with me!”

“I’m tired, put your shoes on- let’s go-”

You gave him the puppy dog eyes “but it’s perfect! The song is almost over anyway-”

He snapped, losing his temper and shouting at you. “What part of I’m fucking tired do you not understand? Come get your shoes and stop acting like a goddamn child!”

You stared at him wide eyed while the music played on. The two of you had little spats in the past….but you had never seen him do anything close to that. Sobriety struck you in an instant. You held tears back and pulled yourself from the asphalt. Silently, you took your shoes from him and placed them on your feet.

His tone was still a little harsh but not nearly as bad as before, “you want me to carry you?”

“No” you said quickly “I can walk - thank you.”

Jack pulled the car to a stop at an empty intersection and waited for the light to turn green.

You were the first one to speak “sometimes I get too excited and act stupid... I apologize for not listening to you when you said you wanted to go. I’ll listen better next time.”

He sighed and hesitated, “I’m sorry I didn’t dance with you.”

You shrugged, “it’s okay, you were tired...plus George Strait sang it better anyway.”

“No, it’s not that-”

You could tell that he was fighting something, but you didn’t know what. His lack of verbal communication frustrated you at times, however it was something you had been learning to accept. Each day you noticed his tells and from those you would peace together how he was feeling. He would get boisterous when he was nervous, silent when he was focused, chatty when content...so on and so forth.

Although you would rather him tell you these things, you understood that he was a man raised in a way that forbade overly emotional declarations. He was getting better the safer he felt with you and it was okay that he wasn’t perfect with it just yet. Jack had spent years shutting people out, it was going to take time for him to break the habit.

“-that was my wedding song,” he confessed.

You nodded slowly, showing him that you were listening.

“You looked so fuckin’ beautiful and just - happy…….” he sighed again. “It’s uh- do you know that the two of you share the same birthday? I didn’t realize it until the other day when you mentioned yours …...three hundred and sixty five days in a year, what are the fuckin’ odds?”

The light turned but he didn’t move, he was staring transfixed at the road - his mind somewhere far. You watched him remember her and a life that no longer existed. He always had a certain look about him when he was thinking of her. You couldn't really put it into words; he just seemed so at peace with the world….like the burden of loss wasn't weighing him down.

His hands gripped the wheel tighter “the birthday you have coming up will make you one year older than she ever got to be…. It’s like one day I woke up and twenty-four years have come and gone overnight.”

He started to choke up a little, but fought against it. “ I don’t know why it just hit me all of a sudden. I can go weeks, months, without feeling upset. Then one little thing just sets it off and everything comes rushing back at once…. and it hurts the same way it did then.”

His breathing hitched in his chest, you could tell that he was probably on the verge of a panic attack.

You placed a hand on his leg “hey-”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you. That wasn’t right….. I’m not that person-”

“It’s alright-”

“No it’s not. I’m sorry if I scared you and I’m sorry that I’m talkin’ about this. I know you probably don’t want to hear it-”

“Jack” you spoke softly in an attempt to stop his spiraling. “I always want to hear about what you’re going through. No matter what it is…..your wife, she sounds amazing.”

He reached down to take your hand, squeezing it gently.

You brushed your thumb across his knuckles. “If you ever need to talk about her you can, I hope you know that. And what you said about it all rushing back….grief is not linear. It's not something that has a start and end...instead it’s like a box with a little ball inside. Every time the ball hits the side of the box you feel upset. Like tonight-”

Your other hand reached up to tuck a little strand of hair behind his ear, while you went on… “At first the box is tiny and the ball hits the sides of it often. However as time goes on the box gets bigger. Meaning that the ball has much more space to travel until it hits the sides.”

You paused for a moment to let him follow along. “You grew up with her; she is literally woven into the fabric of your soul. You are allowed to miss her and miss her deeply. Even after all this time. It is okay. In the same breath though, you are also allowed to be happy. I know you carry around guilt - I see it in you constantly……. but there was nothing you could have done Jack.”

You placed a finger under his chin and turned his head to face you, “and you didn’t scare me. You just caught me off guard is all.”

“I wish I danced with you,” he said softly.

“We’ll have plenty of time to dance, Jack.”

He looked so utterly exhausted; you dropped your hand to let him focus back on the road. “Yeah” he agreed, then lifted his foot off the break to continue on.

The open windows let wind rush through the cabin. He kept a tight hold on your hand, it was the only thing keeping him grounded at the moment.

An idea surfaced in your mind…. “I think we should include her this year. We can pick up some flowers - maybe a little toy for the baby, and have a picnic. I’ll make cupcakes and we can blow out a candle for her as well ….would that be something you want to do?”

He rubbed his eyes and nodded.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Thank you.”

You smiled softly “you don’t have to thank me Jack.”

#Jack Daniels x you #Whiskey x you #Agent whiskey x Reader #Agent whiskey x you #Agent whiskey fanfic #Kingsmen Fanfiction #Kingsmen Fanfic #Pedro fanfic #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Pedro Pascal Fanfiction #long live the queue

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