#the scar sun immediately comes to mind...

[dailyhermitdoodles]

[437] zedaph has been turned into a lime

He's limaph- limedaph? ZEDIME???

...

Wow I suck at coming up with names...

Also this is inspired by these posts that I just saw together on twitter so I had to draw it-

[ponderingmoonlight]

Satoru Gojo purposely keeping the scar you gave him instead of using reversed technique

Pairing: husband! Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: When his skin gets busted by your sheer excitement, it doesn't feel right to Satoru to use his reversed technique and simply heal.

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, Yuji's "death" scnene in season 1, blood lol

Thank you dear anon for aggressively reminding me that it's canon for Gojo to not have any scars, it really helped me cooking up that fic! 🤍

Every step feels like hell, the only thing that keeps you from collapsing onto the floor being the reassuring hand of your husband on your shoulder.

This can’t be true, it’s just impossible. Yuji Itadori was a member of Jujutsu High for a few weeks, just started to get to know this world better. This was supposed to be an easy mission, the three of them should have made it out alive with ease. But apparently, Sukuna decided to show up. And apart from injuring Megumi, he violently took Yuji’s life by ripping his heart out. A heart made of pure gold, a heart so precious that you couldn’t help but care for that boy the minute you saw him.

But now he’s dead.

Your hands start shaking immediately the minute you step into this cursed room you visited far too often, gazing at Yuji’s body covered by a cloak. This isn’t a bad dream. No, the blood covering the white cloak tells you more than urgently that Yuji Itadori isn’t there anymore.

“Please tell me that there’s a chance he’ll come back”, you mutter.

Oh, how much both Shoko and Satoru hate to see you like that. It’s not a secret to anyone at Jujutsu High how deeply you care about your students, loving them like your own children. Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen a student die in front of your eyes. In times like these, jujutsu sorcerers pass away like flies. But Satoru knows what you’ve seen in Yuji, that he somehow reflected parts of yourself. And still, you weren’t able to protect that boy, both Satoru and you coming too late to rescue him.

“I really wish I could, but he shows no signs of life. I’ll move on to autopsy now. If you want to say goodbye…Maybe do it now and leave afterwards.”

Satoru wraps his arms around you just in time before you slide onto the ground, holding you tightly against his chest.

“This is not fair”, you breathe out, head still not able to accept Yuji’s farewell.

He was so young, so full of life. He doesn’t deserve to die, he still had so much ahead of him. There needs to be something you are able to do. Aren’t Satoru or Shoko able to use their cursed technique?

“He didn’t show any signs of life for hours by now, (y/n). Not even Shoko or me are able to bring him back to life. I’m so sorry”, he mumbles against your ear out of nowhere.

So this is really how it ended? With Yuji getting killed by none other than Sukuna himself? Like in trance, your wobbly legs carry you to the autopsy table his lifeless body lays on. You want to stretch out your arm, want to look at that precious boy one last time before Shoko does her job.

But you can’t.

“I can’t look at him”, you blurt out.

With a swift motion, you turn around and burry your face against your husband’s chest.

“It’s okay babe, just look at me, okay? You don’t have to do this.”

Satoru’s arms keep you from losing yourself completely, soak up your falling tears while his head rests against yours. Oh Yuji, you’ll never be forgotten. All the laughter’s both of you shared, his potential, how he always cared about others. You will think about him every time the sun starts to rise, when new students get greeted, when you kill another curse-

“Hey, what’s up? Huh, what are both of you doing here, Gojo-sensei?”

This voice…

That was Yuji Itadori.

Out of instinct you turn around rapidly, not even noticing how the back of your head crushes into Satoru’s forehead with full force. He sees starts, blood taking his sight in an instant while his mind isn’t even able to comprehend it was Yuji who just spoke.

“Yuji! Are you okay? Are you hurt? You’re back!”, you babble out, embracing the boy in a tight hug.

“To be honest I don’t even know what happened last and I’m pretty hungry…Oh, you’re bleeding Gojo-sensei!”

You’re…bleeding? You turn around in confusion, following Yuji’s eyes.

“OMG SATORU!”, you cry out, the sight of your husband covered in his own blood shocking you to your core.

When did that happened…Was it…you?

“I guess you were so happy to see Itadori that you’ve forgot about me standing behind you”, he mutters amused.

“Babe I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got so carried away and-“

“Don’t worry about me. Reversed technique, remember? I’ll be whole in seconds. Just look after Yuji, I love you.”

You let out the breath you were holding, the bright smile forming on your gorgeous face making Satoru forget the world around him for a moment. You are so caring, so passionate. And you are his wife.

“I’m a lucky man”, he mutters to himself while pressing the tissue Shoko handed him against his wound.

There you sit, gently caressing Yuji’s cheeks and asking him over and over if he’s okay.

“You really are. This isn’t a problem for you, right?”, Shoko questions with one glance at the laceration on his forehead.

The shocked look on your face replays itself over and over in his mind, lets a chuckle escape his lips. With the help but his reversed technique, it would be way too easy to get rid of that minor wound. Within seconds, there wouldn’t even be a scar left, just his flawless skin. But…it was you who did this to him out of sheer excitement. It sure would be nice to look into the mirror and get reminded of you daily, right?

“Oh, I might as well keep that”, he replies with a sly grin.

- a few weeks later -

You sit on the edge of the couch, desperately waiting for that time of the day. Even after being married to that force of a man for 4 years now, you find yourself getting all excited when he announces that he’s going to shower. Because going to shower means that he’ll come out just wearing boxers with his body still a little wet and his hair sticking to his face in that delicate way.

“Still waiting for me, huh? It’s not like you can see me naked every time you want, babe”, he finally purrs.

Your heart skips a beat. This man…How is it even allowed to look so breathtakingly gorgeous? The way a single droplet of water runs down his cheek, how he gently strokes his damp hair back.

Wait. You squint your eyes a little harder. What is that on his forehead?

“What do you have there?”, you question, rubbing your own hand against the ride side of your forehead.

This almost looks like a scar. But Satoru shouldn’t have scars. After all, he’s able to use reversed technique, healing himself in the matter of seconds. Is it just dirt? No, that definitely looks like scar tissue.

“Oh, it’s nothing”, he immediately tries to brush you off, pulling his hair back into his face.

“No way Romeo, come back here right now”, you demand.

With a swift motion you lift yourself off the couch and hunt after him.

“Is that a scar?”

“It might be…”

“Why didn’t you just heal it? Show it to me!”

When you finally catch him, you slick his hair back again. Only to be greeted what indeed looks like a middle-sized scar. But why and how did this happen, why didn’t he just heal like he usually does?

“You really don’t know where this came from?”, he challenges you.

You blink a few times. What the hell is your husband talking about?

“Why would I know where this came from?”

“Because it was you, (y/n)?”, he playfully bites back.

You? Your mind races, searching for a single moment you ever hurt your husband. You were never really able to even hurt him, no matter how berserk you went in training. When was the last time you even wounded him? But wait, there was this one time you made him bleed, that one time when…

“This was when Yuji woke up-“

“EXACTLY!”, Satoru cries out and gives you a round of applause.

“But why did you keep it? You said you’d be able to heal it…”

“Because I didn’t want to. This scar right here”

Gently, he takes your hand in his and traces the soft scar with your fingertips.

“will always remind me of what a wonderful human being you are.”

Oh. Your eyes turn glossy in an instant, staring up at your loving husband while he gifts you with the most breath-taking smile you’ve ever seen.

“Satoru”, you breathe out.

There is no time to waste. You wrap your longing arms around his tall frame tightly, aiming to never let him go again.

“Every time I look into the mirror, I think about my wonderful wife”, he mutters into your hair.

“Y’know, you could just take a picture of me or something-“

“No. I would rather just keep that scar of my wonderful wife smacking me over a student.”

You hit him playfully over his comment, a giggle escaping your precious lips.

“Come on, it wasn’t like that…”

“I’ll always tell the story like this.”

Tags: @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp@localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo

Dividers by @saradika 🤍

[xo-codbby]

blue-collar!141 x reader

continued

when you managed to get the number to their service from a friend, you didn't expect too much. just 4 men, an ordinary team. and you needed someone to repair the damages to your house, the entire thing needing to be constructed from the start

it's only when they arrived, your friend had failed to mention just how big and broad they were. like walking tanks, their presence demanding attention as you explained while they listened intently. catching a few of their eyes flickering to your lips and then back up as you tried to maintain your composure. they were 100% your type and you desperately wished you had met any under different circumstances but this had to be professional. any other thoughts had to be shut down immediately

soap and ghost work in sleeveless vests, price had his shirt off. you know how it gets, the england sun (no matter how rare) was too hot for him to work in and gaz with his top unbuttoned, showing off his chest. yeah it might've been a little unprofessional but the job was still getting done, did it matter so much?

a pretty thing like you didn't need to offer them anything but they were so grateful for it either way. and they were very professional at first, purely focusing on the task at hand. but slowly when you started to offer them drinks and snacks, letting them wash off the dust and grime off of their bulging muscles, the lines were a little blurred

it was taking weeks, some parts of you wondered if they were doing it purposely. needing four hands for a one man job but you grew to become fond of their company, becoming acquainted to friends.

"s'too dusty f'you to be here, hen" soap's drawl fills your ears as you hold a tray of iced drinks and some food. they were big men, they needed bigger portions of food to eat. you watched them pause on their equipment, watching as johnny leans in to give a side hug. his musk permeated the air but funnily enough you don't mind, not a bit. it makes you hang on a little closer subconsciously and a soft sound from him emanated, his hands squeezing your waist a little before he reached for a drink.

"yeah, don't want you to start sneezing here sweetheart" gaz smiles softly, the back of his finger gently smoothing your cheek for a moment before he holds the tray off from you. dirt marks stain his cheekbones, dust clinging to his skin but you don't think he could look any better, under the sun and sweating. it's hard to take your eyes off the men as you offer a soft laugh, mumbling a response as you avert your eyes. hoping they don't see how flush you look

"y'mind checking on ghost for us, pretty?" price whispers too close to your ear, his hand coming to touch your shoulder. you can feel the warmth coming from his palm, from working or the sun you're not too sure but it makes you feel weak. his lips curved into a gentle smile, looking at you with amusement flickering in his eyes. the little crinkle you've grown to admire everytime as you tried to compose yourself. maybe the sun was doing you more damage than you thought

"of course" your answer came next, blowing out a soft breath when you turned. feeling the gentle touch of his hand against the small of your back, fingers softly stroking the skin for a second but it was nothing, it had to have been nothing

you entered your home, coming up the stairs. about to knock until the bathroom door unlocks and opens. and there, ghost stood in all his glory. the towel hangs dangerously low on his hips, exposing the v line you desperately wanted to touch. you can barely catch your breath, feeling overwhelmed from the sun and their presence. watching his muscles shining with water drops, the steam rising from his skin. the tattoos shining along with the scars he had littered on his skin

"y'lookin' f'me, doll?" his deep baritone voice caresses your senses and your throat dries up for a second, unable to speak. just wanting to appreciate him and his body. his hand squeezes your shoulder so softly, his body pressed against yours for a moment too long. you can feel his palm trail across your waist, his scent sparking heat straight to your core. without all the dust on his face, without the black mask he wore, you get to see all his features and it makes you shiver at how gorgeous he seemed to look. his gaze is much more intimate and he only offers you a half smile, eyes glinting before he straightened up and headed to the other room to change. not before skimming his lips across your forehead, your body tense wanting to follow him to get out of your clothes and feel what you've been aching for all this time

but it was all professional, it had to have been. right?

[tldrthor]

five more minutes | steve rogers

Summary: Steve marvels at his sleepy girl // established relationship fluff, fem!reader, no use of (y/n) // word count: 1k

enjoyed? please like/reblog! you can find my masterlist here <3

Steve Rogers had never been a man who slept easily. It hadn’t been that way since he was a baby, keeping his poor mother awake through all hours of the night. As he grew, sleep never came easily — too many battles, too many scars, and the weight of the world on his shoulders from the moment he learned that to exist was to fight.

These days, the losses of everyone and everything pressed on him like a boulder, something he could never outrun. No, to sleep was to confront — and Steve had done enough confronting for a lifetime.

Most of his fellow Avengers knew the sting of restless nights. They understood that sleep, with its blank slate, was a risky thing — a place where the cruelest parts of their minds could take hold. Steve’s dreams were never kind. He often dreamed of Bucky falling from the train, of his mother lying on her deathbed, or of you — you, lying in a pool of crimson blood.

He flinched as that particular memory resurfaced. The day he thought he’d lose you. His eyes flicked to your sleeping form, cocooned in the duvet like a hibernating creature. Sometimes, he wondered if this was all real or if it was just a dream — a dream he was overdue to wake from.

You were so serene, so untouched by the world’s cruelty. It struck him again, how remarkable it was that after all you’d been through, sleep was still a sanctuary for you. He felt a pang of envy. You were able to rest in ways he couldn’t. Your face was peaceful, your breath slow and steady, while his thoughts raced like an out-of-control train.

Watching you fall asleep each night was like witnessing a miracle. You had this routine, a rhythm he had come to cherish. It was small, simple things — filling your water bottle, turning off the lights, and whispering “I love you, sleep well” before you sank into the comforting embrace of the night.

You had once asked him, “Does it bother you that I sleep so much when you don’t? Do you wish I joined you in the early hours of the morning?”

Even now, that question made him smile. He remembered you, stumbling out of bed hours after him, his oversized pajamas swallowing you whole. It made his chest swell with pride — this little thing with messy hair and a habit of stealing his clothes was his. He got to be there with you, cradling you while you slept, listening to your soft snores.

He could still feel the gentle pressure of his hands on your sleepy face, rubbing the exhaustion from your barely open eyes. He’d kissed the top of your messy hair, holding you close as he whispered, “I love you as you are, my sleepy girl.”

He was the luckiest man alive, and he knew it.

But sometimes, when the sun was just starting to rise, and he had to wake you up, that luck felt like a curse. He couldn’t help it. You were so peaceful, so content in your little cocoon of warmth and softness. The moment he dared disturb that tranquility, you became a beast to tame — his beast, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, kneeling beside the bed. His fingers gently stroked your hair, watching you stir. “It’s time to wake up. We’ve got training in an hour.”

A soft, incoherent noise escaped you as you buried your face deeper into the pillow. “Five more minutes…”

He couldn’t help but laugh. Same script, same lines. “Angel,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’ve already had five more minutes than I should’ve given you.”

You leaned into his touch but didn’t open your eyes.

“I don’t want to go,” you groaned, wrapping yourself tighter in the duvet.

He sighed but grinned, moving to open the blinds. Sunlight poured into the room, bathing the bed in a warm, golden glow. You, of course, immediately buried your face deeper into the covers, a little mound of resistance.

He sat back down on the edge of the bed, gently pulling the duvet away from your eyes. “Come on, sweet girl. You know you have to get up.”

And then — the bargain. He saw it coming a mile away, heard the seductive lull of your voice as it lured him in.

“Come back to bed,” you coaxed, your voice thick with sleep. “We can cuddle.”

Damn you.

“Can’t, baby. You know how much I’d love to,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice strong as he planted soft kisses on your forehead, your temple, your cheek. “Come on, time to get up.”

A dramatic sigh came from beneath the covers. “You’re so mean.”

Ah, the anger phase. His least favourite.

“I know, sleepy girl,” he replied in a mock-somber tone, unable to resist the playful tease. “Open those pretty eyes for me. Let me see them.”

One eye cracked open, barely a slit. Success. “There she is.”

Before he could celebrate, that eye shut again. Of course. He checked the time—training was fast approaching, and he had promised you he’d give you enough time to get ready. But what could he do? The sleepy beauty before him was winning the fight — again.

He checked his phone, his impulsive fingers moving quicker than his rational, captain brain could stop them -- a quick text to Sam and an instant response:

Can you cover training this morning?

Sure thing. I’ll put them through their paces ;)

With a satisfied smile, Steve kicked off his boots and climbed over you, slipping back under the covers. You stirred slightly, one eye cracking open to assess the disruption.

“What doing?” you mumbled groggily.

“Shh, my sleepy girl,” he whispered, fitting himself into your warm space. You immediately relaxed, a grin spreading across your face at your unexpected victory. He pressed a kiss to your neck, pulling you closer. “Just five more minutes.”

This fic came to me suddenly even though it wasn't on my radar at all! Hope you all enjoy. Reminder you can join my taglist via the google form here <3

Masterlist

[suksatoru]

birthday baby; t. todoroki

touya is visiting home after his family decides to celebrate his twenty fifth birthday together at the todoroki household. maybe years ago, he would've debated on even making an appearance at all. but now he has you, his favorite girl right by his side to make the entire ordeal bearable and so much better.

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FUCKING HUSBAND!! i love youuu touya. somewhere in another universe i am actively baking a cake and waiting for u to come home. touya has tattoos instead of scars + he's rocking the black hair because he's an icon. reader and touya have an established relationship. and he mayyyy be a dad. heh. enjoy loves!

word count: 3k

"touya,"

touya mutters something under his breath, tugging at the black collared shirt around his neck in irritation. his brows are furrowed, dark hair flopping over his forehead as he pushes the bangs back with a huff. he turns to you, praying you don't catch the nervousness in his expression.

"i'm fine, baby." he mutters, pushing a single finger into the collar of his shirt and loosening the constricting fabric. his eyes are a blur as his gaze snaps towards yours in an instant—and he holds up his hand, splaying all five fingers out before curling his knuckles into a fist.

"never mind. why don't we just stay in the car? we can get some takeout for us, no need to go inside." he deflates, slumping in his seat a bit as you smile softly at him. touya's nervous. you can tell by the way he taps his index finger against his knee, craning his neck to look out the car window and towards the sacred todoroki household looming outside.

you reach forward and tuck a fallen lock of hair behind his ear, before your hand falls onto his shoulder blades to massage the tensed muscles gently. you nudge his chin towards yours, and he begrudgingly meets your gaze. there's a hint of vulnerability in his eyes—something out of the ordinary simmering under his usual cool and collected facade. he covers the hand of yours cradling his cheek with his own, pressing his lips together into a firm line.

"you know, your mom told me she was making your favorite for dinner. plus, we drove—how many hours, two for this? i'm surprised she was so good the whole drive." you smile, glancing into the backseat at the small bundle of white hair that was visible from your spot. a pair of adorably dinosaur socked feet kick back and forth expectedly. your baby babbles quietly to herself in her car seat, blissfully unaware of her surroundings as she drools into her fist.

touya takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as his eyes stay glued onto her. he unbuckles his seat belt slowly, turning to you with a frown.

"one of you will stay with me the whole time, yeah? i'll be fine then..." he trails off, frowning as he places his palm flat against the back of his neck in thought. you nod reassuringly, your soft promises and support prompting him to get out of the car. he groans as the sun hits his face, a grin finding its way to his lips when he hears you laugh at him.

"come on, princess." touya mutters, offering the baby in front of him a slanted smirk when she squeals with excitement—recognizing her father's face after such a long drive as he takes her out of the car. she reaches out, immediately fisting touya's shirt and snuggling into him as he lets out a huff.

"yeah, yeah. you better be on your best behavior, you got that? i don't wanna see you chewing on a damn thing that isn't edible. or else there will be consequences."

your baby babbles nonsense in response, squinting her eyes with childish excitement and not understanding a single word that comes out of touya's mouth as you all begin the short walk from the driveway to the front door.

touya shifts her so he can cradle her entire form in one arm. he uses his free hand to reach out for you, quickly grabbing your hand with a silent sigh as you intertwine your fingers. you turn towards him, and after placing a kiss onto your baby's cheek—you peer up at him with a grin. he tries to smile back—but it feels more like a grimace.

"ready?"

he nods, taking a deep breath as his grip on the baby in his arms tightens just the slightest bit. he can hear the wave of voices on the other side of the door—natsuo, fuyumi, shoto, mom—he hadn't seen them in months.

these family gatherings always made touya nervous. he's painfully aware he's the black sheep in his family—with his raven hair and inked skin, one that crawled around and over his limbs, coating the majority of his body in beautifully intricate designs. he did anything but fit in. he was also the only one who'd moved out—albeit when he was sixteen—but even though he and his family reconciled, he hadn't taken the step to move back in.

and he wouldn't. he had his own family to look after now.

he glances down at his hand, admiring the name y/n sketched in cursive on his ring finger. he can hear the footsteps approach the doorway now, and he makes a silent reminder to get your daughters name tattooed onto his pinky at some point. you'd like that—it'd be cute.

"touya nii! y/n chan! mom, they're here!"

the next hour is a flurry of hugs and loads of chatter. touya feels dizzy after greeting everyone, getting far too many kisses pressed onto his face than he'd like. it was only his siblings and mother home, no other party goers. but he was still overwhelmed. he stalks over to the living room, cradling your baby to his chest and settling onto the couches in the living room with an exhausted sigh.

"we gotta ditch 'em all, princess. look at mama—she's already getting comfy." touya grumbles to your baby, watching you and fuyumi make your way to the living room where touya was hiding relaxing with your baby.

"touya nii—y/n tells me d/n is learning how to walk!" fuyumi beams, tickling the baby's cheek as she coos quietly. touya shrugs, keeping a hand on her small back to help her sit upright. your baby would be turning two soon—time was flying by fast.

"yeah, i guess." he mumbles, frowning as he moves to peer down at the little girl in his arms. she peers back, round eyes watching him before she eventually crawls out of his lap and into fuyumi's. touya slumps into the cushions of the couch, eying you from where you sat across the couch and were too absorbed in a conversation to notice his stare

you're speaking with natsuo—eyes bright and animated as you talk, probably about something stupid touya did since his brother was laughing so damn loud—but he can't stop his lips from twitching upwards at the sight.

"nii-san,"

shoto poked touya's side as he settled into the open spot beside him. touya stiffens and with a loud sigh, he turns away from you and natsuo to meet his little brother's gaze. touya eyes shoto wearily for a few moments, before shoto takes the hint and starts talking

"i just wanted say that i'm really glad you came. and—thank you for bringing d/n. she looks a lot like y/n chan now."

touya is silent for a moment. he's staring into shoto's soul—and the younger boy tries not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. something shifts in his demeanor, and with a groan—touya wraps an arm around shoto's shoulder and pulls him into his side, offering the boy a deathly tight hug as he ruffles his hair. shoto's smile is wobbly and the hug was unexpected, but he leans into touya's warmth anyways.

"don't thank me like i'm some sort of a guest here. remember, my bedroom is still right down the hall, you brat. now—tell me what flavor cake mom made for me."

shoto spends the majority of the evening right beside touya. he asks questions every now and then about d/n, watching her chew on all sorts of things that clearly weren't food. babies are interesting, is what he'd said as he watched touya chase your baby—but she's a fast crawler, maneuvering under tables and giggling evilly as she carries the tv remote around the house with her mouth.

"she's teething," you say with a soft laugh as you hear touya yell "put that down!" from somewhere across the house. shoto nods quietly as the two of you watch touya make a fool of himself and get outrun—or out crawled—by a two year old.

"y/n," shoto finally speaks up quietly as you hum in acknowledgment. he turns to you, his voice almost nervous as he speaks quietly

"i have a gift for touya nii, but i don't think he's going to like it."

you frown at shoto's words, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as you usher him closer. he moves quickly, grateful for your comfort.

"why would you say that shoto? what did you get him? whatever it is—if it's from you, i'm sure he'll like it." you say, squeezing his shoulder as shoto glances at you wearily

"i don't know. i think...i made a mistake. i should've gotten him a better gift. it's really bad." he confesses, a rare show of light blush coating his cheeks as you smile

"do you want to—"

"it's gift time!"

rei enters the room with a warm smile as she carries her own wrapped presents for touya and sets them down on the living room table. natsuo and fuyumi quickly rush out to go grab their gifts, and probably to call touya back to the living room, while shoto frowns.

"it's all right, shoto. trust me, you're a thoughtful boy and i'm sure you're not giving your present the credit it deserves! touya doesn't care for expensive things, if that's what you're worried about." you say with a gentle smile that manages to soothe a few of his nerves. eventually everyone is back in the living room—d/n in your lap now as touya sits on the ground, a party hat on his head and a paper party blower hanging from his lips.

rei spoiled him with gifts that would always remind touya of his family. knitted blankets, because he falls asleep anywhere. matching gloves for all three of you to wear, because she doesn't want her babies to catch a cold, and a thin gold bracelet with the name todoroki engraved into the back. there's seven hearts engraved on the other side—each one representing one of the people sitting around touya and, of course, himself.

natsuo's gifts included a new pocket knife for touya, dark and gleaming, a new motorcycle helmet, and some new picks for touya's guitar. the guitar picks seemed to be his favorite—they fit between touya's fingers nicely, and he grinned sharply at his newest friends. fuyumi had her kindergarten students make birthday cards for touya—and he spent a while cackling at their terrible writing and absurd drawings. she got him a pair of sunglasses she'd seen him eying on his phone the last time he'd visited, and a mug with the cheesy slogan "best dad ever!" printed on it.

your gift for touya was a handmade picture book. one with polaroids dating back to when you'd first started dating—pictures he'd thought you must have thrown away.

touya was nothing but a heartthrob in high school—all the pictures from his early years consisted of his smudged eyeshadow and silver piercings. your face was sprinkled into some of the pictures, too. but any picture you were in meant touya wasn't looking at the camera as it flashed, because he was looking at you.

the last pages consisted of more recent photos that included his siblings and your daughter. every single page had hand written notes and doodles from you, and touya struggles to not let the waterworks start as he traces the outline of your face on the page.

"you're such a loser for keeping all of these pictures of me, baby." he croaks, laughing as he closes the book—reaching over to place a gentle kiss onto your lips before he dips down and places another onto the little baby in your arms.

shoto watches touya nervously, fingers tightening over his present as he sighs quietly. he only had one gift—and he'd spent so much time on it that he hadn't even thought about getting touya anything else. he was too busy trying to make touya's gift perfect...which hadn't exactly worked, either.

"you," touya suddenly announces, pointing an accusing finger in shoto's direction with a predatory grin on his face that had poor shoto wincing as he swayed in his spot. he was the last person in the room to give touya his gift.

"happy birthday, touya nii," shoto rushes out in a quick breath, practically shoving the gift into touya's hands like it was too hot for him to hold as touya moves back in surprise, brows furrowing in confusion as everyone around him leans forward—curious to see the gift shoto had given.

silence. shoto swears he can hear his own blinking as even the baby looks at the gift curiously, wondering what it was.

it's a clay sculpture. it looks like two people. one with an explosion of black hair and another with half red—half white hair. they're holding hands, cheesy grins painted poorly onto both of them.

the black haired figure, touya, has ginormous eyes—big bright and blue and a little terrifying. and his head was shaped oddly—not as oddly as shoto's head, though. which seemed more like a square than a circle. touya swallows down his laughter, turning over the sculpture in his hand and glancing at the bottom of it where shoto's wobbly signature is.

clearly, art was not shoto's strong suit.

"wow..."

shoto's face is pink with embarrassment, and no one says a thing as touya silently stares at his gift—taking in every detail.

"i thought y/n was the real loser, but you must have really wanted first place with this, sho."

and for a second, shoto thinks touya doesn't like his gift. but he cradles it carefully as he reaches out and punches shoto's shoulder, offering him a cackle as he ruffles his hair—normally, shoto would smack touya's hand and duck away, but he grins widely—pleasantly surprised that touya liked his gift as he allows him to mess up his neatly kept hair.

"thanks, sho. i like it. a lot." he says a fraction softer, and shoto quickly nods his head. everyone passes around shoto's sculpture, giggling and praising shoto for trying his best. shoto's smiling regardless, because touya had liked his gift—that was all that mattered to him.

and then it's cake time; touya is seated on the ground and everyone huddles around him as natsuo brings the cake from the kitchen. touya's eyes and d/n's glimmer with glee at the sight of it—there was delicate wisps of frosting all over, velvety cream coating the layers as touya lights the candle with a simple snap, a string of fire connecting his finger to the candle as the blue flame twinkles to life.

you straighten the birthday hat on touya's head as everyone begins singing happy birthday, and his cheeks are beginning to ache from smiling too much. he blows out the candle—watching the fire fade to smoke before a flash goes off. he blinks quickly with surprise, rolling his eyes with a smile when he realizes you'd taken a polaroid picture of him.

"handsome," you murmur as you press a kiss onto his cheek. he tugs you forward and feeds everyone around him a bite. he yelps when d/n bites down fast and hard—she probably would've taken his fingers off if she actually had any teeth. she sends touya a gummy smile, opening her mouth for another bite of the sugary sweet cake as touya complies with a laugh.

after cake is dinner, and after dinner is movie night. after that, touya decides he wants to stay the night.

he had old pajamas in his room for you and him to wear, and rei had plenty of d/n's things stocked up. it's nearing midnight when you finally get your baby to sleep, and she lays on the middle of touya's old bed and snores softly, drool dribbling down her chin as she kicks her feet periodically—far enough into dreamland where you can leave the room and seek out touya.

he sits outside on the front steps of the house, the knitted blanket his mother gave him draped loosely over his shoulders as he stares up at the stars. his face is devoid of any emotion, at quiet and serene peace as he listens to the sound of the distant river flowing and animals in the nearby forest.

he smiles when he hears the door open, already knowing it was you on the other side. he stretches out an arm wordlessly, holding out the blanket with it and ushering you into the spot next to him as he cocked his head.

you plant yourself right beside him, and he wraps the blanket around both of you before resting his cheek on top of your head. he watches a rabbit paw its way through the grass quietly, settling down on a green patch in the front lawn before slowly drifting off to sleep.

"did you have a good day?" you question, and touya hums in reply. his arms tighten around you before he presses a kiss onto the crown of your head, admiring the way your face fits against the curve of his shoulder so perfectly.

"yeah," he says softly. he's silent for another moment, bouncing his knee in thought before speaking up again in a clearer voice.

"the best. d/n likes it here...we should come more often. if you want—that is." he quickly adds as you lift your head from his shoulder, a look of surprise on your face at touya's words.

touya's relationship with his family hadn't been the best. before you, he'd dissapear for months and pop in every now and then just to let them know he was alive. trying to keep in touch with him was impossible—touya was always busy wandering to pay much attention to how badly his siblings and mother wanted him around.

but, after he "accidentally" got you pregnant, there was only so much more time he had left to avoid his family. in a way, you were the invisible string that tethered him back to his roots. grounding him and finally allowing him to feel at home again

"i love you." he says softly, smiling when he feels your hands reach forward to hold his.

"i love you too. happy birthday, touya."

a/n; happy birthday touya!! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- btw he proposes to reader like 3 months after this and your baby is the flower girl at the wedding. imagine her wobbling down the aisle and everything in a cute lil dress heh. anywho!! dad touya is everything to me <3

[that-student-that-has-homework]

Pulse - Portgas D. Ace

Portgas D. Ace x Reader

CW: trauma, mentions of death, and slightly suggestive teasing, kinda proofread? I got tired :/ | wc: 15,671 🫠 SPOILERS: Amazon Lily / Marineford / Post Marineford Y'all can thank @captainportgasdace for this. as agreed upon previously, @silentgravesdontexist you're tagged for this piece MasterList (linked at bottom too)

There had always been a somewhat wistful quality to Ace.

It wasn’t always apparent, but it was there, lurking, much like the many sea kings of the Calm Belt. The Calm Belt…you huffed a little, you could liken Ace to that stretch of sea - so much lurking beneath the surface. 

If you looked at him hard enough you’d be able to see the large shadows swimming not too far away. Though today, or rather, following the first anniversary of his very close call with death, the summit war, you couldn’t help but feel those shadows had migrated closer to the surface. Large, dark, intimidating - moments from attacking.

That needn’t be a bad thing. Maybe you could finally take them down. Maybe he’d even let you help.

Or so you hoped.

No mind. You had patience to spare. Especially when it involved your loved ones.

You studied your dear friend from afar, starting from his head - his hair had grown longer over the course of the year or so he’d been recuperating for. A trim was in order - if only to remove the bottoms and promote healthy hair growth. Regardless of your skill with scissors, he’d probably let you trim it for him if you asked him to. Anywho, he sat cross-legged on the sand, his shoulders hunched slightly forward as he hugged his knees. Your eyes were immediately pulled down to the marred skin of his back.

Where his back was once crowned with the mark of the strongest man on the seas, there was now an empty patch of scarred skin: a testament to the void left by the loss of a father. It was still the same back though. The same back that had stood between you and adversaries unthinkingly: raising both morale and wrapping you in security. It was the same back, just…missing a little something.

You couldn’t help the way the sand crunched under your feet, still you tried your best not to disturb his reverie. He did little more than glance over to confirm you weren’t a threat, before silently turning his gaze back to the sea that he would no doubt be taking to soon enough. He would be much like a child returning to the embrace of his parents in a sense…as he was “a child of the sea.”

There really had always been a somewhat wistful quality to Ace.

You had to tear your eyes away from him. Quite the feat when the sun was starting to set, casting a golden glow upon your friend - who was already beautiful enough under the dingy lights of pirate ship cabins, let alone during this golden hour. You knew well enough that you’d give yourself away if you kept staring at him. While it wasn’t wise to wait, you also knew that confessing to a person in the midst of grief was insensitive. And, you had patience to spare. Especially when it involved your loved ones.

You instead took a moment to trace his line of sight, attempting to follow it with your own gaze. You soon took a seat beside him, sitting cross-legged much like he was, only that you opted to hold your hands within your lap, rather than hug your knees.

It had been a while since you’d both come to this island after all that had happened. While walks on the beach were regular, and you did leave the house, it had been a while since you’d really taken the time to admire the vastness of the water. It had been a while since you’d really focused on the way the breeze felt as it tousled your hair tenderly. It had been a while since you’d really dug your feet into the sand and enjoyed the little poking sensations of the sand under your toes.

“Y’think I can get my back tattooed again?” 

You blinked yourself back from your thoughts, turning to look at the man to your side, his brows furrowed as he continued to look out to the sea. In the time it took you to process his question and consider how to respond, he’d already found his answer: “I can’t, can I?”

“I think it would be better not to,” you agreed nodding slowly, “were you considering getting another back tattoo?”

His grip on his arms tightened as he hugged himself tighter, gaze finally moving away from the sea, falling onto the sand instead, taking your heart with it. You leaned back to study his back once again, contemplating.

“There’s always your lower back,” you rocked forward to try and capture his attention, “or your butt.”

The incredulous look he gave you had your eyes crinkling in mirth. Though you did find yourself looking away soon enough, your embarrassment catching up to you. It went down a little bit-kind of…when you heard him give a quiet, but amused chuckle, “nah my butt won’t work!”

You glanced his way, and the instant that he recognized you were looking at him, he continued, “unless you’re suggesting I go around with my ass cheeks out.”

“Ace!” You groaned, your hands immediately going to cover your face, your whole body hunching forward in embarrassment as he erupted into boisterous laughter.

After a moment, and through the scalding heat of your cheeks, you asked, “would you wear a shirt to compensate for having your bottom half exposed?”

When you heard him hum, you braved a peek through your fingers to see his brows raised into a thoughtful expression, brown eyes reflecting the warm pinks and oranges of the sunset. You looked away the moment his eyes met yours, cheeks burning yet again.

“Y’know what?” You looked up again, and he grinned, teeth glistening in the light as he answered you. “Nope! I wouldn’t.”

When you hid your face all over again, you were entreated to even more of his beloved hearty laughter. You could feel the way his shoulders shook beside you, despite not being in contact. Your pride battled against your satisfaction trying to force you to be upset even though you’d invited this kind of teasing, and enjoyed the effect it was having on him.

Though laughter right now was mostly just an anesthesia: it numbs things, but doesn’t really address the cause.

When his laughter died down, he let out a long breath, “I remember pops had it on his back.”

You turned to look at him again, he was more relaxed now, one arm resting on a bent knee, the other behind him as a support with his other leg stretched out in front of him. Looking down at his chest, he placed a hand on it, “guess my chest wouldn’t be a good idea either.”

At his suggestion you found yourself staring at the terrifying mark marring his front. You gulped, seeing the crimson of the past. The crimson that had finally become a warm peach. A warm peach that rose and fell rhythmically with the breaths he took. A closed, covered, mostly healed warm peach.

“Hey! Hey! Breathe!” He poked at you.

You shook your head, blinked violently, and took in a deep gulp of air. Snapping your eyes to his face you were treated to his raised brow and remorsefully awkward grin. You pursed your lips petulantly. Looking away you answered, “I think we should avoid,” you paused, “tender areas.”

“Tender, huh?” He looked back at the great blue.

“I’m so grateful you’re still here,” you let it slip out as you too looked out at the sea.

He chuckled humorlessly, “you say that a lot.”

“It’s because I am,” you stood firmly by your opinion.

“I must’ve given you a real scare,” you hated how guilty he sounded.

“Marco told you, didn’t he?” You mumbled, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Yeah, he told me you wouldn’t stop crying unless you fell asleep,” he huffed out, “something about you not eating well either too.”

“I’m so grateful you’re still here,” you reiterated, looking at him, taking him in.

“You already said that,” he raised a brow at you, a corner of his lips upturning slightly.

“Just let me count my blessings Ace,” you rested your head on your knees.

He didn’t respond, but you could hear him shift a bit beside you. Turning your head you saw that wistful quality of his resurface on his face, the pretty features relaxing once again. You pondered on what he’d said…

“Hey Ace,” you raised your head and he turned to look at you, “what if you got it tattooed on your pulse?”

“Huh?”

You raised your arm up to reveal your wrist, pointing to the area you mentioned, “it’s one of the places you can check for a heartbeat.”

He stared at you, the gears in his head turning, “it’s a little less obvious than your back, and much smaller,” you continued, “but it’s still readily visible,” you looked down, “and it’s got something to do with the heart too.”

He was in your space immediately, “that’s a great idea!” You looked up at him, his eyes glimmering pools of molten chocolate. “You’re so smart! Thanks!”

“Happy to help,” you smiled back at him, and he pulled back a little, staring at you for a moment too long - ah, “what’re you thinking about?”

Much like you had earlier, the pirate blinked himself back to attention with a shake of his head. He looked away for a moment, scratching at the back of his head, a sheepish smile taking his features as his eyes flickered back to you, “‘s nothin’.”

“Fair enough,” you shrugged, “I’ll help you find a tattoo artist and get the design down if you’d like.”

“You would?” He lit up some more, sparks of his old vigor reigniting.

“Of course.”

-_-

It hadn’t taken more than a week or two to find a tattoo artist on the island. There were a couple and Ace found himself liking the older lady artist more, so you went on over to her with Whitebeard’s jolly roger proudly etched on a paper. The fiery man had burst into full-bodied laughter at the offended scolding she’d given the two of you: of course she knew Whitebeard’s jolly roger! The…late…Emperor had come and established a sort of peace over their quaint little island a decade ago or so, even going so far as to chase off some thugs from her little shop.

The former division commander was grinning from ear to ear when the artist sang his father’s praises. She did not withhold any of her opinions about how manly and handsome he appeared to her either. There was a small prickling in the back of your eyes, but you managed to keep it together, especially as a warm hand came to rest its weight between your shoulder blades. Turning to Ace, you were greeted with an equally warm grin as he excitedly told you he had a great feeling about this lady.

Oh! And that you did an amazing job finding her, “leave it to you to find such great people!” He beamed. 

“I’m so grateful I found you too,” you stressed, returning his grin with a smile of your own. 

Your delightful buddy froze momentarily before coming back to his senses, “thank you.”

“I’m happy to help.”

“Not just for finding the lady.”

“No thanks needed.”

“Though if I remember things,” he thought aloud, “didn’t I find you?”

You rolled your eyes, “oh no, a very good person found me.”

He chuckled lightly at your sarcastic tone, before your attention was required by the tattoo artist.

She did a truly spectacular job with the tattoo, and even provided the ointment he’d need to help promote faster healing. Over the course of tattooing the young man she seemed to realize you’d probably remember the aftercare instructions better than he would. 

She wasn’t wrong about that.

Ace felt like his tattoo was mostly healed by the end of the following month. The old lady had mentioned that given the location, it would take a while to heal fully though, so…You were the one worrying most days. Especially as Ace began to make the necessary preparations to embark back out on the seas again - he was healed enough for it, per the instructions and information Marco had left you with. 

It was a great deal of fun though, working on building your small ship together, you were just constantly worried he’d scrape himself and get the tattoo infected or something. He often shrugged it off, reminding you that he was made of fire after all, and could avoid scratches.

“Ah yes,” you nodded, “you’re hot in the literal sense.”

He burst out laughing again. He did seem significantly more lively these days. Especially following the tattoo. Though you weren’t sure if he’d slain some of the beasts within, or if the shadows had simply chosen to recede from the surface.

You got a glimpse of the answer one night as the two of you sat in front of the fire he’d started up, staring at the tattoo on his wrist while waiting for the fish and veggies you’d caught and scavenged earlier to cook. Your dear friend’s wistful quality resurfaced from the unfathomable depths that made him up, though with a tinge of nostalgia this time. There was a very small, very deeply fond, uplift to the line of his mouth.

You marched over to his side, plopping yourself down beside him, a basket of fruit and a knife in hand. He looked up at you, eyes reflecting the warmth of the fire beside him…or perhaps the warmth of the fire within. He was always so warm.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he grinned and you could feel the warmth of domesticity mix in with his naturally warm aura and creep up on you.

Looking back at the basket of fruits in your lap, you picked up a pineapple, “well a little snack before won’t completely ruin our appetites,” you were about to begin cutting into it when he took it out of your hands.

“Here, lemme show you a neat trick,” he proceeded to twist the top of the pineapple off, hit the bottom of it on his knee, and forcefully roll it between his hands, “now you can pull out each piece, no knife needed!” He grinned, pulled a piece out and handed it to you.

You took it, impressed with the new piece of information, “that is neat!”

Silences had become increasingly common between the two of you. Tonight was no different, the two of you sat side by side, snacking on a pineapple, he did have to hand it over to you to switch out fish and vegetable skewers. At which point you decided to poke at the corner of his mouth with a piece of the fruit and he opened to eat it  without thinking twice. Given how your relationship had transformed over the course of his healing period, this level of closeness had also become commonplace between you two.

It didn’t mean anything though. It could be likened to the way you’d feed any of your close friends. 

You were trying not to fault yourself for wanting something more though. It wasn’t as if this feeling was new. Ace always burned so bright, and was so warm-and you weren’t unique in these feelings. What was unique about you, was the situation you were afforded. Again: it didn’t feel right to burden him with your feelings while he was essentially fighting for his life in a whirlpool of turmoil trying to drown him.

“What’cha thinkin’ about there?” He asked as he passed you a skewer of cooked fish.

You shook your head. You were a coward. You’d think almost losing him would push you to reveal just how important he was to you. Verbally reveal it that is. 

“Don’t wanna talk about it?” He nodded, understanding as ever. “Got it.”

“So you’re going to be setting off soon huh?” You chose to change the topic.

He hummed, stoked the fire a bit, and paused. He turned to look at you, brow furrowed.

“I’m going to be setting off soon?” He reiterated, confused. “You’re not coming?”

“Would you want me to?” You looked at him. “I mean, I remember you were upset over me staying with you when you were relegated to bedrest.”

“That was because you had better things to do than take care of me,” he bit back.

“If I wasn’t actively caring for you I might have gone insane though,” you worked to remove the skin from the fish, “it helped me.”

“You,” he tore into his fish with an aggressive bite, chewing in frustration, “you have your own dreams and adventures, and you wasted a whole year here with me though, the least-”

“Time spent with you is never wasted,” you cut in, effectively stopping his mouth from moving, “time spent with you, is never time wasted,” you repeated again meeting his gaze as he stared at you.

He just continued staring at you, with nothing but the crackling of the fire and the soft rolling of the waves filling the space between you.

He remembered to finish chewing and swallow his food soon enough though, blinking himself back to reality as he did so and looking at the fire he confirmed, “you’re coming with me,” his tone was firm with his conviction, “we’re setting sail, together.”

“Okay,” you nodded, nibbling into your fish, “I’m glad.”

He muttered something, or perhaps he whispered it, the words were stolen away by the breeze before you could make out what he said though. “What is it?”

“I wouldn’t leave you here on this island by yourself,” he shook his head, “not after everything you’ve done for me.”

“I did all that because I wanted to,” you drilled into him, “you don’t owe me a thing.”

Your brow pinched, your displeasure making itself evident on your face, “if you’re just going to befriend me out of obligation and guilt,” it was your turn to bite into your fish aggressively, “then leave me here.”

“I never said that!” He shot back. “We were friends before all this, and I’d rather die than lose you.”

“Please don’t talk about dying,” it was a quick, breathless, desperate request.

“Sorry.”

You shook your head, “no no I’m sorry,” your appetite was vanishing rapidly, “what you went - what you’re probably still going through - is worse than,” you swallowed thickly, tears welling up, “than me just watching it happen.”

“Hey,” you tried to wipe away the tears, fish skewer still in hand, “hey, look at me,” you turned to face your dear one - his intensity entrapping you.

He took your skewer from your hand, stabbing it in the sand next to his own. His larger palm enveloped your own as he pulled the appendage towards his chest pressing it right above his heart. You found your face warming inordinately-and it wasn’t because of your proximity to the fire. You felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he took deep breath after deep breath, felt the rhythmic - kind of quick - pounding of his heart.

“I’m alive,” he reminded you, “I’m still here.”

You nodded, bottom lip trembling, “I’m so grateful you are.”

He opened his mouth, about to say something, then looked away with a huff. His brows pushed down on his eyes, “I want to take you off this island with me.”

You nodded at him, hand still held above his chest, where you could feel his heart rapidly pumping blood to the rest of him - intact. Alive.

“I want to leave this island together,” you agreed.

“Then it’s set!” He grinned, and released your hand leaving it to fall limply to your side as he grabbed the skewers and handed you yours again.

That was also when he remembered the food he was still cooking. Seems he’d almost burnt the remaining fish, but they were thankfully saved just in time.

-_- 

Ace clearly loved being at sea again.

It suited him so well. Surrounded by blue on all sides, blazing his own path - own course through the waters. 

A child of the sea come home. 

You could see it in the way light seemed to dance off of him every instant of the day: the ethereal glow of dawn upon his defined features, the halo that the afternoon sun drew on his head, the gleam of the sunset on his back, or even the twinkling of the stars in his eyes. You could see how at home he was out on the restless waters.

Perhaps he was so at home on the restless waters was because he could actually see the restlessness? Maybe that was why when the sea calmed, you would catch him glancing back at his newest tattoo from time to time.

One of the times, he’d been laying down on one of your small sailboat’s little benches, his head resting near your own, as you sat on the floor of the deck beside him. He raised his hand up, staring at his wrist under the blanket of stars in the sky. You couldn’t help but notice, looking away from one beauty to another.

You weren’t too sure what possessed you in that moment, but you reached out a finger and began to trace the iconic crossbones and mustache embedded within your dear friend’s skin. It was as your finger finished dragging along the mustache that he maneuvered his hand so that his fingers could clamp down upon yours.

The first time he’d done this (held your hand) after the…after the war, you’d both been gripping each other’s hands like you were both on the edge of a cliff, afraid the other would fall to their demise if you let go. Though the first time he’d gently held your hand, you’d startled and he’d let go soon after. Of course since then, you’ve held him and been held by him as the grief of it all washed over you in waves. 

So anyway, hand holding didn’t mean anything. 

His thumb pressed down on the vein in your wrist, making you more aware of how fast your heart was beating. It didn’t really mean anything though - what he was doing right now. 

No matter how much you wanted it to.

When he stopped pressing down on your pulse, choosing instead to rub circles into your skin, you turned to look at him and meet his gaze as he gave you yet another of those bright smiles, leaving the heat to crawl up your chest and squeeze it.

-_-

When you arrived at the island the pose was pointing to the following day, Ace once again took your hand - to help you disembark. You spent the day scouring the place for new information, trying out the local dishes (with Ace falling asleep mid bite), and taking in the local sites. It involved a lot of you being dragged from corner to corner, your hand clutched firmly within his own as he led you around. By the time the evening fell, you both found yourselves on a beach front again, your narcoleptic buddy’s head on your shoulder as he snored away.

Hmm…you’d probably camp out somewhere near your Mini Moby tonight. Your brain couldn’t help but wander about as you played with the thick waves of Ace’s hair. You’d decided to do honest work for the time that the former Division Commander was healing. The reality was you’d been thrust into piracy due to your…”scholarly” pursuits, so of course you’d be doing honest work. It hadn’t paid much is all. After all, the island that Marco had left the two of you at was a quaint, quiet place that wasn’t too far from Saobody, and friendly to Whitebeard pirates. 

You had to admire his wisdom in choosing the place. It had both mountain and beach environments and a lot of greenery, so it would be soothing to the mind as well as the body. The local doctor was also very adept, and there was an extremely talented apothecary there as well. Marco had thought of everything.

You could hear your friend’s usual grumble, moan, and whine that he made whenever he woke up from one of his spells. The weight on your shoulder lifted, as his inky tresses slipped past your fingers as he sat up.

“Good morning,” you hummed jokingly.

“Morning?” He yawned, stretching out. “Did I sleep that long?” He was squinting at his surroundings.

“Nope,” you rolled out your shoulders, “I was thinking of setting up camp near the Mini Moby.”

He blinked at you, “food first,” and grabbed your hand to pull you up with him.

How he was so awake already was beyond you. Perhaps it was a consequence of having to deal with this regularly. 

“Usually you ask if the person is hungry first,” you huffed, working to steady yourself on your feet after being sat for a while.

“You aren’t hungry?” He blinked at you.

Truly it was fascinating how this man before you managed to be fierce, fiery, and beautiful one moment, and then absolutely boyishly adorable the next. “I am,” you nodded, your mouth pulling itself up and pushing your eyes into a smile.

Your dear friend stared at you in silence for a bit, before tugging you by your conjoined hands with a loud declaration of, “then let’s eat!”

And eat, you did. On the house too. Thanks to Ace’s battle prowess he managed to stop the restaurant from getting looted at gunpoint. It wasn’t some casual dine and dash, this guy was threatening the cook’s life!

Though Ace  likely cost the owner the same amount as what he’d have lost from the looting with how much the commander ate. The old man didn’t mind though. 

His daughter definitely didn’t either. You noticed her sneaking glances the pirate’s way the whole evening. You couldn’t blame her, even if you didn’t look directly at the sun, it was still impossible to ignore.

It seems that the personified sunshine in question didn’t notice her longing gazes as he, once again, took your hand to lead you out when you were both done. He was talking your ear off about Luffy again, just like he used to before…

…before everything happened.

The only difference was the way he was holding on to you this time. You found yourself squeezing his palm and watched as he stood at attention and turned to you with a curious expression, ���what is it?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “I’m just happy.”

You were greeted with a warm silence following your layered confession. Soon enough he was squeezing your hand as well, “me too.”

You didn’t get to see his face as he began pulling you along again.

-_-

On the next island, your friend once again dealt with an issue. Well he dealt with it prior to you even getting there. Due to some Marine’s negligence, there were sea kings terrorizing the locals of said island. Three sea kings to be exact. You found that out when you were greeted with cheers as you docked right after helping Ace take them out so you could arrive safely. Free food, free lodging, among other things were offered to the two of you.

Given you had contributed somewhat, you didn’t mind, the food was going to be made from the Sea King meat anyway. You also didn’t mind much when all the joy resulted in a revelry with your companion at the center of it all. 

You sat, a mug of spicy cocoa in one hand, your cheek pressed into the other as you watched him, arm in arm with other men, children, and the occasional lady: smiling, laughing, celebrating. 

Were the shadows lingering deep within the waters? Or were they on the verge of bursting forth from just beneath the surface you wondered.

There was no denying you loved seeing this side of your beloved friend. Joy suited him well. You just couldn’t help but be concerned that it wasn’t unburdened.

Oh! He was looking at you now. 

He waved you over with an excited smile, to which you raised your mug of cocoa. That made him furrow his brow. Before you knew it he was marching over to you, snatching your hand again, and dragging you to join him. He was kind enough to wait for you to chug your cocoa…well…kinda. He chugged a bunch of it for you when you couldn’t get through it fast enough.

After attempting to do the local dance with him, and laughing along with the crowd at your miserable failure to do so, you were invited to eat some more. In true Ace manner, he fell asleep mid bite, causing everyone to panic. You on the other hand simply chuckled and did your part: lifting his head, wiping his face and his bangs, before gently placing his cleaned head on the table and adjusting his hair a bit. You then unpacked your shawl and transformed it into a makeshift pillow, before sliding it under your unconscious companion’s head. 

It would seem that display resulted in some misunderstandings as the lodging you were offered subsequently was a single room with a bed of a moderate size meant to be shared. You were too embarrassed to ask for a change given they’d given you this room out of their own generosity. The man to your side didn’t seem bothered by it though. Well, it wouldn’t be all that bad really. 

Or so you thought. 

Or so you thought.

Because the former commander was not a peaceful sleeper. You woke up as you’d fallen asleep for the most part. If you’d shifted while sleeping then it wasn’t anything too drastic. Ace on the other hand was a complete starfish. His forearm was on your neck, one of his legs bent over your stomach, with his head off his pillow and a hair’s breadth away from rolling off the bed.

And when his head did inevitably roll off, while you were trying to figure out how and if you even wanted to untangle yourself or not, it took the rest of him with it. As anyone who grew up the way he did would, his instincts kicked in and you found yourself being dragged across the bed while he crashed onto the ground loudly - groaning as he did. You’d ended up tightly tangled in the covers now, with part of Ace’s weight pulling it taut and making it difficult to roll out of the cocoon it had wrapped around you.

When you asked him to get off of your cover, he began apologizing, “ah jeez, did I wake you?” You hated the guilt seeping into every word. “Sorry.”

“Nope,” you shook your head, still tightly bound in the covers, “I woke up right before the disaster struck.”

He didn’t look completely convinced that was the case, so you decided to elaborate: “I was trying to figure out how to get up without disturbing your sleep, when you rolled off.”

He raised a brow at you, and you shot him a pointed look of your own, pursing your lips to further solidify your stance in this staring war. Seems like it paid off because soon enough his shoulders shook with his chuckles. You soon found yourself chuckling along, which of course reminded you that you were still stuck.

“Uh Ace,” you wiggled about, tugging at the cover still under his bottom, “a little help.”

“Oh yeah! Sorry!” He was grinning as he moved aside this time, going so far as to clamber up onto the bed again and help unroll your burrito self. He chuckled at your bedhead when you finally got free, his eyes crinkling and his dimples popping up as he looked at your disheveled appearance. 

It was weird. 

Feeling at ease and self-conscious all at once that is. He’d seen you in worse states, yet you still wanted to look pretty in front of him.

Though as his calloused hands came to pat down the mess your head had gotten itself into to help you get it under control, the emotional pendulum swung more towards being at ease. 

“Y’know,” he hummed as he continued to pat and play with your hair, “I think I like this look on you!”

Just like that you were slung straight back into unease, the heat clambering up your face. You groaned and covered your face, pulling away from him-and receiving a little complaint-as you threw yourself back on the pillows.

“What’s with that reaction?”

You turned away from him, still covering your face. “Oi!” His hand was on your arm turning you back towards him. “Don’t hide from me.”

You decided to peek out from behind your hands, “you know most people don’t say ridiculous bedheads look good.”

“Well yours does!” He grinned, ruffling your hair without any regard for how difficult it may be to style.

You huffed, lips gently curving upwards. You were blanketed by a gentle warmth, and it wasn’t from the sun. No this warmth could only be achieved in the presence of the man beside you. You let yourself look at him as you smiled - and he mirrored your expression. 

-_-

After that first day on the island you started to feel bad about not paying for things, so you decided to offer labor in exchange given the islanders wouldn’t take your berries. At the bath house you fixed a few things around the lady’s home, then bathed. When it came to the food, you washed some dishes in the back including all of the dishes both you and Ace ate out of. He helped of course. 

The rest of your day was spent wandering around, reading newspapers and picking up information from conversations. At one point the two of you separated to explore different areas. You found a cute little shop where you could make things out of wood. When its artisans noticed you staring, they invited you inside. They’d even taught you some basics before leaving you to your own devices with your own small slab of wood.

You became completely absorbed within the atmosphere the shop had to offer, completely losing track of time with the family of artisans as you all worked with gentle conversation flowing. You hadn’t fully realized just how much time had passed until you heard the breathless voice of your traveling companion, frantically inquiring if they’d seen you. Of course he noticed you soon enough, given you’d turned to look at him.

“There you are!” He beamed, relieved to see you,  before his expression flipped into something frustrated.

“Oh my!” The voice of a lady, who’d been patiently teaching you how to whittle, cut into your conversation. “Dear, we had so much fun we didn’t realize we’d worked ourselves well into the evening!”

Sure enough when you turned to the clock it was nearing 10:30 in the evening. The sun had set at least three hours ago. Oh. Looking back to Ace, you paid closer attention to the fact that he was still breathing heavily.

He’d been worried. 

But why? It wasn’t that late. What had he come across during his time wandering on his own?

Hmmm…you could empathize with his concern, though that wasn’t enough to completely appease you. After all it wasn’t like he didn’t go missing for hours on end. You still remember the panic of going about searching the island for him: especially when he was still in bandages!

“Seems like now you know how I feel when you go missing,” you stood up, patting the wood shavings from your project off your lap, and taking off the apron.

“You!” You could almost see the little flickers of flames coming off of his barely clothed shoulders. “I thought something happened to you!”

The father of the little family of artisans began laughing loudly, standing up to give Ace a pat on the shoulder, “now now, I know you’re frustrated,” then he leaned up and whispered something into the former commander’s ear.

Ace’s eyes met yours for an instant before his face and shoulders turned red, his eyes going as wide as saucers, and a little flame flared out from his head. When the older man laughed some more, the pirate tore his gaze away and put on his hat so it covered his face, grumbling, “thanks for the advice.” 

Looking back up at you-face still pink-he announced, “we need to get going.”

“Just a moment, I need to sweep away my wood shavings,” you responded.

“Why don’t the two of you stay for dinner?” It was the elder lady - the grandmother of this quaint family - that offered.

You smiled and shook your head, “I appreciate the offer,” then you jabbed a thumb at your companion, “but this man can eat twice or even three times his weight in food.”

“Hey!”

You turned to him, your smile cheeky, “I’m glad you can.”

That took the wind out of his sails entirely. It was a bit unfair of you, but you really were glad that he could eat like he used to. The whole event was settled and you were promptly shooed out, your shavings left on the floor, as they intended to work some more and there was no point in you sweeping before they finished. 

“Come back tomorrow to finish your work, alright sweetie?” Was the parting they gave you, and you agreed to return the following day.

Ace took your hand the moment you were outside the little family shop, grip tight on yours as he led you through the dimly lit streets. “I got us a room with two beds this time,” he said, eyes forward, “it’s at a different inn though.”

“Oh,” was all you could say, “are you - are you okay?” You squeezed his hand in yours. “I was a little insensitive earlier.”

The action made him halt altogether, his shoulders dropping the tension they were holding as he breathed out. 

“I saw some Marines,” oh. That explained his earlier outrage.

“What’re they here for?” You sped up a little to look at his face. “Do you know?”

“Remember those sea kings we took down?”

“They’re here to finally deal with them?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “now they’re just staying here because the island folk are mad at them for ignoring them for months.”

“Urgh.”

The corruption and hypocrisy of the Marines was something you had always been critical of. Of course this meant you were also privy to the hypocrisy and hegemony of the World Government (more like World’s Ratified Mafia). And of course such knowledge and attitudes were absolutely intolerable under their dictatorship so soon enough you had a humble bounty on your head.

Justice. 

They had gone and assumed themselves infallible deities: justifying all their behavior through the abuse of the word, they’d completely perverted the concept of justice.

Urgh the sheer egotism.

Disgusting. 

“I saw them not too far from the Mini Moby when I went there looking for you,” he broke you out of your angry reverie, “then I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

You squeezed his hand, “thank you for worrying about me.”

He squeezed your hand back, a silent “you’re welcome.”

“Good thing my bounty doesn’t have a photo right?” 

The marines could never get a clear shot of you for some reason…

“The most they had was a really awful looking drawing, like Blackleg from the Straw Hats!”

Ace’s lips pulled into a massive, very amused grin. 

You still remembered the way he’d laughed himself to the ground, little tears forming in the corners of his eyes when he first saw the wanted poster. Even Marco and…Thatch…had gotten a laugh out of it. 

“It looks nothing like you!”

“What do you mean?” You grinned holding the paper up to your face. “You mean my nose doesn’t look like a carrot?”

And they’d laughed some more. Ace’s laugh was especially memorable, his strong shoulders shaking, his freckled face completely consumed by unbridled mirth. You never stood a chance - sweet, with a smile like that?

You never stood a chance.

“They didn’t see you right?” After all, his wanted poster was much clearer than yours. 

“Nope,” he shook his head, “I’m keeping a low profile until we get back to the New World,” he winked at you, “like we agreed.”

“Good!” You squeezed his hand again.

Later, you’d squeeze his shoulder as you shook him awake. 

Nightmares.

You moved out of the way just in time as he gasped himself awake, chest heaving as he panted for air. He looked around frantically as you soothed him. Which was when he finally turned to look at you. You’d barely gotten a sentence out before he’d tugged at you, crushing you into his embrace.

Your nose was essentially being crushed against his right pectoral muscle. It hurt a bit, so you pat his back while squirming to liberate your nose. He loosened his hold for a moment and you quickly adjusted to be in a more comfortable position, before you were once again being crushed into him. 

You held him back of course.

But not before he could readjust his hold so that his head rested on your chest-more specifically his ear.

Oh.

You began tracing your fingers along his scalp as they weaved through his thick locks. Had his nightmare featured you this time? His grip on you only tightened, a shiver wracking through him before you heard a shuddering breath.

“Ace,” you hummed in an attempt to soothe him again, “Ace, I’m okay,” you tried to keep your tone soft, “I’m okay.”

He nodded, but continued clutching you, body trembling under trapped his emotions within it. You on the other hand continued to run your fingers through his hair, with him gradually getting heavier and heavier in your hold. His grip loosened slightly as his consciousness slipped - if you waited a bit you’d be able to slip out and back into your own bed.

Looking at him, you could see the remnants of his tears sparkle on his lashes. You wished he’d just let himself cry more openly, rather than fight to bottle it up. 

A quiet sigh left you as you looked at the man in your hold, people really were as beautiful as their souls. You continued to play with his hair, basking in the relative silence. 

You ought to tell him that to his face really. Your lips softly pulled upwards as you gently brushed his bangs from his face. 

You wouldn’t have dared to even consider doing that when you first met him: back when he’d convinced you his bravado was confidence. You knew better now though.

He’d probably still tease you if you did. His teasing made him just about intolerable to you initially. 

Yeah…your road to friendship hadn’t been the smoothest. You grinned at the memory, tenderly poking at the little furrow in his brow - coaxing him to relax. He’d very much made you regret your efforts to be kind(er) to him initially with his insufferable teasing. You were reconsidering altogether when he showed up and made amends after realizing he’d gone too far. The teasing remarks soon became playful jabs…which soon became thoughtful discussion when no one else was around.

You smiled at your dear-incredibly dear-friend, and readjusted yourself slightly thinking maybe you could go back to your own bed now. Of course no sooner had you started to consider that, than his grip on you tightened. You’d rather wait a little bit longer to make sure he was definitely asleep enough.

-_-

It was warm.

Too warm.

You found yourself regaining consciousness with a strain of agitation at the temperature your body had achieved while you were resting. You tried to kick off the covers in hopes of revealing your feet and cooling down, however you found that they were much heavier than they ought to be. It wasn’t until you heard a very familiar groan echo throughout the bones of your body that your eyes flew open.

Well…you’d figured out why it was warm.

Soon enough your friend’s eyes also opened, an absolutely criminal pout on his lips. You’d curse Ace’s luck with his genes if they weren’t why he suffered so much all his life. Though you didn’t get to admire him for long as he blinked himself back to the conscious realm, slowly realizing the position he was in, the position you were both in. At which point, a similar kind of alarm found its way onto his expression as he looked up at you.

“Good morning?” You tried.

That was all it took for him to hurriedly grant you freedom from his clutches…and some relief from the heat. Once you were both seated a respectable distance apart, though still on the bed, he shot you a sheepish look, “guess we didn’t need that second bed after all.”

You found yourself snickering at his comment, him joining in soon after, and with that any and all tension was cast away. You went back to your bed, slipped under the cool sheets and slept for a little longer too. So there was a use for the bed after all.

-_-

The rest of the day went well after the initial surprise and awkwardness. You went back to the wood whittling shop and Ace…well he went about doing his own thing. He came back to find you around night time, he’d already stocked the ship up, and set up camp as this time you’d be camping around the Mini Moby. The pose would reset as of dawn of the following day after all.

Bidding farewell to the quaint little family, you couldn’t help but think back to your own, way back on your home island. You did your best not to let your emotions choke you up. Though it was particularly difficult to hold them all in while you were hugging the lady who was old enough to be your aunt and then the grandmother. It was a pleasant surprise when the lovely family invited you to spend the night chatting until it would be time to leave.

“Hey! I can go catch us some wild animal,” your companion raised a brow at you with a smug little grin pulling at the corner of his lips, so you don’t have to worry about how much we eat, was the part he left unsaid.

“Would that be okay with everyone?” You turned to the homey family, who had absolutely no qualms with the suggestion.

The evening zoomed by: you had a fun dinner, exchanged stories over tea and biscuits, and even played some fun family games. It was after the elderly had retired, and your companion had, true to his nature, fallen asleep mid-bite again, that the more sensitive questions were brought up. In true auntie nature, the auntie-aged lady asked about your “husband,” especially given your lack of wedding bands.

You smiled at the auntie while heating up. She wasn’t wrong in her assumption. Prior to letting you escape with the then-captain of the Spade Pirates, your parents had you and Ace sign a marriage contract.

You appreciated him deeply for going along with it. That your parents would let you marry a wanted man though, even if it was supposedly just on paper, even if it was just for the sake of preserving your honor and dignity, showed just how dire and desperate a situation it had been. That he’d gone along with it though…and was remaining true to the agreements made with your family too…

For a pirate, he was an honorable and trustworthy man.

Then again…even the fearsome Whitebeard had more honor than the allegedly just marines.

So anyway, you didn’t correct the auntie, instead nodding and saying how you two were currently sailing together. She seemed relieved that you didn’t correct her on your relationship status, but she didn’t need to know that it was just a marriage on paper.

-_-

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” was the greeting you’d gotten when you’d exited the singular cabin on the Mini Moby.

Squinting at the light, you rubbed your eyes and grumbled, “there’s no way it’s still morning.”

“You’re right,” you blinked blearily at your companion as he agreed with you, “it's afternoon.”

Which earned a tired groan from you. Which in turn drew an amused laugh from Ace as he continued adjusting the sails.

“You had fun talking with them didn’t you?”

You hummed in agreement as you shrunk back into the cabin. 

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“Water, I need water,” you croaked, opening the door and re-entering the darker environment. 

It felt nice not needing to squint anymore.

When you made your way back out you were assaulted with another question, “how did they figure out we were ‘married’?” He asked you. 

“I mean if you look at them, they seem marriage oriented and traditional,” you shrugged, “it could be a case of them just getting lucky we were in line with their hopes.”

“No wonder you got along with them so well,” he approached you from the helm, “I had a feeling they reminded you of your family.”

“They did,” you nodded, taking a seat on one of the benches on the small deck.

“I remember your folks giving me a hard time when we just needed to get you off the island before the navy got to you,” he recounted.

“I’m relieved they didn’t arrest any of my family members,” you exhaled deeply.

“You got lucky that it was Smoker that responded to the call,” Ace grinned.

“My mother said the same,” you agreed, “in her letter she said that what Smoker lacked in fashion sense he made up for in reasonability and honor.”

“She’d absolutely hate my sense of fashion then,” he laughed.

“She does,” you deadpanned, earning an even more boisterous laugh from him, “but I think she’d appreciate knowing you kept your promise.”

He raised a brow at you, “you mean the one about not laying a hand on you?” He made a show of taking a moment to think, then, “hmm but I forced you to share a bed with me just the other night.”

“Ace!”

He burst into even more boisterous laughter, “I broke that promise almost immediately while we were on the Spadine!” He was clearly relishing in teasing you, “I was always laying hands on you.”

“You know what they meant by that,” you groaned, “and you only ‘lay hands on me,’” you huffed, “to save me from going overboard and keep me out of trouble! That’s the whole reason we insisted on the contract prior to letting me board the Spadine,” you stoof gesturing to him and then the boat you were currently on, “they knew that you’d need to grab me for my own safety.”

As if to prove your point the ship lurched and you almost went overboard. Luckily Ace had the muscle to pull you onto the deck-or well onto him really, as you came crashing into his chest…which was…still clothed! Seems he’d forgotten to take his shirt off - which was currently to your benefit, so you weren’t complaining.

Looking up at him as he held you to him, you gave him a dry look, “see what I mean?”

“Yeah,” he grinned at you, readjusting his hold on you as another wave rocked the ship, “but, I’ve been pretty handsy this last year,” he cocked an eyebrow up, “wouldn’t you say?”

You found yourself heating up. What was he trying to achieve teasing you like this? You instead sent him your most unimpressed stare and he laughed some more. 

“Everyone needs a hug sometimes,” you grumbled, “I wouldn’t call that being handsy.”

You could feel his chuckles from where he held you, you could hear them loud and clear through his chest. You needed to get some space between you. Though you couldn’t even begin to move away before the waves threw you onto him again.

The sooner the two of you regrouped with Marco, the better. You needed to get yourself under control. Having Marco around would help. Probably. You tried not to touch him any more than necessary as you gingerly removed yourself from his grasp and moved away a bit looking for a way to make yourself helpful.

“I think the island after this is Saobody,” Ace grinned tugging on the ropes for the sail as he deftly maneuvered your small vessel, “after that we can get to the New World.”

“Well we’d have to go to Ryuguu first,” you corrected, “I wonder how Madame Sharly is doing.”

“Madame Sharly?” He glanced away from the waters to raise a brow at you. “I thought you didn’t agree with her fortune telling.”

“I don’t,” you approached him to help where you could, “but there’s no denying she’s gorgeous,” you took a rope, “and soothing to listen to.”

“So I’m competing with a mermaid?” He shook his head.

“Competing how?” Was he trying to be the most soothing presence in your life or something?

Ace looked startled by your question, furthering your confusion. He blinked at you silently once before sheepishly scratching the back of his head, “it’s…nothing.”

“But how would you be competing with a mermai-” you found yourself nearly thrown off again by the ship lurching yet again. Your work on the ropes came undone as you held onto them for dear life. It wasn’t a moment and a large, warm hand helped pull you back up and helped you regain your footing.

You couldn’t help but notice the ink on your friend’s wrist as he gently pried the ropes out of your hands and secured them himself. You stood there for a moment watching as he deftly tied them up before shaking yourself out of your reverie and making your way to the helm instead. 

-_-

You actually ended up at Saobody Archipelago. Which was convenient. Now it was just a process of trying to get your little ship coated. Oh and to avoid marines and all that. 

Unfortunately the “friendly neighborhood ship coater Ray-san” wasn’t available. Only that made sense. He was with Luffy, training him. His partner was manning the joint though. You weren’t sure of their relationship status but, “if I were Mr. Rayleigh I’d make sure to at least attempt to propose to you.”

That earned you a chuckle from the lovely lady, “mmm some men can be cowardly in the romantic arena,” she was grinning.

Which was when you heard choking to your left - it was Ace, thankfully he’d started coughing. You immediately began patting his back, and then turned back to the lady, “So um Ms. Shakky, would you happen to know how to coat a ship?”

“Nope,”  Shakky took a puff of her cigarette, “I run the bar. Rayleigh runs the coating service.”

And he’s the most trustworthy man to coat the ship on the archipelago. Well…

“Can you suggest any other coating services?” You tried.

She hummed as she took a drag off her cigarette, before elegantly tapping out some ashes into an ashtray. Breathing out she grinned at you, “I don’t think you have to bother with looking for anyone else.”

Well that had the potential to be ominous.

“Are you saying he’ll be back soon?” It was Ace who was asking the question through his coughs.

“Oh did he say he’s on his way back?”

“No, just my intuition,” her expression looked fairly amused before it settled into something more cheshire. 

She was humming as she studied you, “I have to say you do have a way of making a woman feel appreciated dear,” she threw a wink your way.

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable,” you sheepishly returned her smile, “my friends and I used to ‘flirt’ with each other all the time to express our love for one another and y’know?” you shrugged. “Boost each other’s confidence, all that.”

Shakky rested her cheek on her palm as she chuckled at you, “it didn’t make me uncomfortable at all, it’s very cute,” she looked over to your side, “wouldn’t you say so Porto-chan?”

He sputtered, almost choking on his drink again, “way to put a guy on the spot huh Shakky?”

She giggled at him,before turning back to you, “I’m sure this was only between you and your girl friends, given Porto-chan’s reaction here.”

“Well I wouldn’t want to give any guys the wrong idea,” you shrugged.

“True,” Shakky tapped out some more ashes, once again glancing to your side. 

-_-

True to what Shakky had said, Rayleigh came back not three days later. When you mentioned that she had really strong intuition he’d let out an amused whistle and, “women’s intuition can be scary,” before regaling you all with the tale of how Shakky’d been on the mark with something else.

The Pirate Empress, The Most Beautiful Woman in the World, Boa Hancock herself, had fallen in love, and fallen pretty hard. You heard the beautiful woman whose presence you were currently in giggle with, “see, I told you Monkey-chan was pretty good looking.” 

“Scary,” Rayleigh grinned as he breathed the word, “you women and your intuition are scary.”

“Eh?!” Ace was the one to vocally react. “She’s in love with Luffy?!”

Somehow his surprise was what had you laughing. “He’s a real charmer that Luffy, isn’t he?” You beamed at his older brother who looked like a mix of surprised, proud, and disbelieving all at once…maybe even a tinge jealous? “He takes after his brother.”

His owlish stare turned to you, and you saw a little lick of fire escape off his shoulders. All the while you simply shot him a lopsided grin given one cheek was smushed into your first. 

You’d briefly met Luffy while with Ace in Arabasta. He reminded you of Ace in some ways: bright, bombastic, straightforward…reckless…and…very loving. There was one thing about Luffy though: you could say he was more honest about his feelings and less prone to prejudice - oh! Though you’d also say that while Luffy was dependable, Ace felt more responsible, which made sense given he was the older one of the two. You wondered what sort of kindness Luffy extended to the Pirate Empress that she fell for him.

“Whatcha thinking about there?” You blinked yourself out of your trance as you felt a warm finger poke at your forehead.

You looked up into your dear (oh so dear) companion’s eyes and felt yourself melt at the warmth they held, “I’m wondering which of Luffy’s traits caused the Pirate Empress to fall.”

He huffed, and you found yourself following the corner of his lip as it curled upwards, “he’s always had a way with people, that kid brother of mine.”

His gaze was distant, as though he was looking at something very far in the past. Or perhaps not that far away really, these descriptors could be relative.

“So how is Luffy?” You turned to Rayleigh. “Is he doing well?”

The old man’s expression could be described in a singular word: proud. “He’s got another six months of training by himself, but I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he turned his gaze to another person in the room, “he’s real excited to see his crew, and his brother again.”

The beaming smile on Ace’s face said more than words ever could.

-_-

The evening before you would depart for Fishman Island, you’d gone to take a stroll alongside your dear friend. The tree canopies got in the way of you being able to see the stars, but the bubbles twinkled in their stead. 

You turned to study your beloved’s form yet again. Your hands squeezed the straps of your pack, soon enough the world would know about him - that he’d survived. They’d be back to hunting him down, only with twice as much zeal. Marines and enemies of his late father alike.

“What?” He glanced at you, raising his eyebrow. “Do I still have salsa on my face or something?”

You shook your head quickly looking away, “I was just thinking about how, soon enough, you’ll be back to being hunted.”

“Are you worried?” You could hear his amusement, and he even had the gall to laugh when you scowled up at him. “Dumb question, of course you are.”

“Very dumb question,” you grumbled and he laughed some more.

“Hey! I’m pretty strong!”

“I still don’t want to see you get hurt,” you let out a long, tired breath, “when you’re back to officially being a wanted man.”

“Wanted huh?” He was again looking out into the distance, mumbling. “Wanted by everyone but the person I want.”

The person he wanted? 

“Who would that be?” You found yourself asking despite yourself. 

Despite the way your heart hammered at you begging you to remain silent. Despite the way your extremities lost heat. Despite the clammy feeling in your palms as they all but squeezed the straps they held. Despite the ringing in your ears. Despite the way your stomach sloshed as though you’d swallowed a sea storm.

It was such a dangerous question to ask. He’d just said with certainty that the person he wants doesn’t want him - that rules you out. For some reason your thoughts jumped to the Pirate Empress. He mentioned getting to see her while he was stuck in Impel Down.

You watched, your head feeling as though it was full of cotton, as his Adam's apple bobbed with a thick swallow. “Can I…” he wasn’t looking at you as he asked, “can I hold your hands?”

Did he know? Was he trying to hold your hands to let you down slowly? Ace was always a little clumsy with these kinds of things…or was he? He was kind regardless. You had to repay this kindness, so you plastered on whatever smile you could.

If Ace had found someone to love, even if it wasn’t you, you’d be happy for him.You could be heartbroken later, but happy for him now.

You nodded, feeling the pain in your joints as you unclenched them. Your hands were slightly trembling and cold as he held them in his own larger, warmer ones - oh this was a horrible idea! Your hands were starting to get sweaty! Instinctively you started pulling away, “wait my hands - sweat - they’re sweaty!”

“I don’t care,” he tightened his hold on your hands, and as he spoke you noticed, “so are mine.”

He looked at you, and he seemed absolutely convinced of something. You kept up your little smile. 

“I,” he swallowed again, bringing your hands closer to his chest, “I don’t think I can keep my promise to your parents,” a little flame escaped his shoulder as he said that, “I-” he pulled your hands even closer to him, “I want to be real.” 

What?

“I mean I want our relationship-er-marriage to be real!” He rushed to correct himself. “I want to be with you! But in a real relationship! Not just on paper! I want you - ah!” More flames escaped his shoulders as he got louder. “No! Not like that! I mean yes like that- but not just like that! I mean I want - can I?”

He threw his head back, a loud groan of frustration leaving him, meanwhile you just stared at him, brain abuzz as it tried to process what he was saying. He looked at you again, determined expression back full force, “can I be your husband? Your real husband? Can I be,” he glanced away before mumbling, “yours?”

Your mouth had opened slightly to let some air in. The world was almost spinning - save for Ace. The warmth that was flooding your body was practically dizzying. Something stuck out to you - well two things as your legs gave out and Ace lunged to soften your landing and crouch in front of you, in that silly way he always did, still holding your hands. 

“You can’t keep your promise to my parents?” You blinked at him.

“That’s what you heard?” He groaned.

“No I heard it all Ace,” your breaths were heavy, “my brain’s struggling to keep up,” you gulped, “give me a minute to catch up.”

“No, I don’t think I can,” he shook his head, cheeks fully flush as he looked away from you, “I want our relationship to be real… and my promise-it wasn’t a problem back then-but now..” 

He trailed off, struggling to make eye contact with you as he admitted, “now, it’s a major problem,” he shook his head at you seriously, “I can’t keep it. I want to have a real relationship - I’d regret not trying to have a real relationship with you.” 

He did not shy away as he concluded his confession, “the promise gets in the way.”

You blinked at him, finding the air suddenly too warm.

“Can,” you gulped, head still full of static and the sound of the heavy thumping of your heart, “can you ask me to be yours?”

He blinked at you confused by the response, so you pressed on, “instead of - instead of,” your bottom lip was trembling and you could feel heat radiate from your cheeks, “asking to be mine,” was this a dream?

Your heart did some kinda fancy somersault at the way Ace straightened at your last word, much like he would whenever he was excited about something.

“Are you asking me to call you mine, like that?” He leaned into your space.

You couldn’t help the way your whole body was zapped to attention at the giddiness that consumed it when the word: “mine,” left Ace’s lips.

He looked at you with an equal amount of giddiness upon comprehending what your question implied, and his bravado seemed to find him again - but more than that, it was hope that pulled his lips into a massive, luminous grin as he asked, “then, will you be mine?”

When your lips wobbled into a smile, he decided to continue on, “y’know be my wife? My real wife?”

Your head was moving up and down in agreement before you were fully aware of it, “yes.”

You barely registered the pure unadulterated joy, and maybe even the glimmer of liquid in your…husband’s eyes before he was pulling you into a tight hug, gurgled chuckles leaving him. You weren’t any better, you were practically clinging to him as you began to sob, the salty blobs washing away the maelstrom of emotions with liquid relief. You might have felt some wetness on your own shirt.

You probably had, with how he sounded wobbly when asking, “did I make you cry, darlin’?”

Which of course made your tears worse, as you gulped and tried to force yourself to be calm, “I’m just happy it was me.”

He chuckled, “who else could it be?”

Who else - well…wait.

“But, are you sure?” You let go to look at him, his brow furrowed and lips pursed in confusion. “Are you sure this isn’t just because of the past year and a half where all we had was each other?”

His frown deepened for a moment before it relaxed into something sheepish, “I think I started feeling this way since,” he paused to think about it, “maybe even before Pops took me in.” 

“You mean when you were still captain of the Spades?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he chuckled some of his nerves out, “you’re a real catch y’know?” He raised a brow at you. “I even had to play the husband card a few times back then.”

“Really?” You paused to think about it. “I remember us arguing most of the time back then.”

“Yeah, I remember I used to complain to Deuce about that,” he let out a hearty laugh, “but remember that time when everyone was celebrating-”

“And I found you sitting by yourself in the crow’s nest when I went up to hide from everyone?”

“Yeah,” it was there - the wistful quality to Ace, “that was probably when this all started.”

“Wasn’t I just talking about why I had a bounty on my head back then?” You tried to remember.

“Yeah,” he sighed out, “you were really passionate about it too,” there was a dopey quality to his smile, “and I couldn’t help it - you reminded me of my brother and I thought you were really smart.”

“Sabo?” You asked tentatively.

He nodded, “in the beginning it was because of that - I just wanted to be by you and hear everything you had to say, it made me feel like my brother was alive again.”

“That explains the way you kept nagging me back then.”

“Nagging?”

“That’s how it felt to me back then.”

He shrugged, “when we were on the Moby Dick though - I stopped thinking of Sabo, I just wanted to know what you had to say.”

“Really?” He chuckled as you lit up. You wondered if he realized how deeply his confession touched you.

“Really!” He grinned at you, and you felt a warmth wrap around you like a warm blanket.

He looked so boyish as he shrugged, “ anyway, Marco tried to push me to confess to you after I woke up,” he grabbed your hand, tracing your knuckles with his thumb, “he told me all about how much I made you worry,” he turned your hand over in his, “but I was too scared to believe it meant anything.”

“Marco knew about it?” You asked when he was done.

“Everyone knew!” He chuckled. “Heck even Pops knew,” he grinned now looking at the tattoo that sat on his pulse, “of course they knew, I pulled out the husband card on some swabbies.”

He burst out laughing, “you should’ve seen their faces!” He calmed down. “It wasn’t so funny when the commanders heard me though-” he grimaced, but smiled soon enough. 

“I’m glad they did though,” he went back to rubbing warm circles into your skin, “forced me to reckon with myself,” he looked into your eyes, “put a name to what I was feeling.”

“Put a name to what you were feeling?” You breathed out - head as light as ever. “What did you come up with?”

You watched his shoulders rise and fall with the deep breath he took, as though steeling himself again. There was a ferocity in his gaze as it locked onto yours, “I was jealous,” he brought the hand he held to his lips letting them carve his answer into your skin, “whenever I saw someone else trying to win you over,” his hand squeezed yours as yet another wave of heat crashed over you, “I felt jealous and gross because it wasn’t like you were really my wife.”

“I’m not good enough for you,” what was he- “but your parents told me to protect you. And I would -will, and not because they asked me to. I just want to.”

“Ace,” you felt the warmth foment into wrath instead, “you’re confusing me,” you frowned, yanking your hand back, “what do you want from me?”

You saw it then, a flicker of the shadows of the monsters beneath the waters.

You loved Ace. You knew this. You knew that it made you lenient towards him at times. But right now…no. You needed clarity.You weren’t about to enter this new stage on shaky foundations. Because you loved him you couldn’t afford to be lenient about this.

“You ask to be mine,” you couldn’t help the way the fear seeped into your words, “then tell me you aren’t good enough for me,” you looked away with a frown, “I know you don’t have the best idea about yourself, but…just…” you were struggling to put words to it, “what are you trying to achieve?”

When you looked at him again, his eyes were wide, his mouth slightly ajar. He probably didn’t expect things to go like this. Especially given you could have said they’d been going well initially, until you ruined things with your overthinking…but still…you didn’t want some kind of accidental or pity romance. You didn’t want Ace to feel indebted to you, or make decisions while confused or vulnerable.

Though as you looked at him, all the shock left his body, his singular brow arching in that unique way it did with him, while his lips curved up. “Hey, can I hold your hand again?”

“O-kay?” Where was he going with this?

He took your hand again, carefully spread out your fingers, and then pressed it to chest, right above his heart, like he had back when you’d started hyperventilating. He held it there and you could feel the rabid, slightly erratic pattern it was taking, “y’feel that?”

You nodded.

“You’re right,” he was sheepish, “telling you I’m jealous, and that I want you to be mine, and that I can’t keep a promise to keep my hands off of you makes it sound like I’m really horny, huh?”

He was laughing as you sputtered in embarrassment, and held your palm firm to his chest, “to be honest with ya, I really like having your hand on my chest here - kinda wish I wasn’t wearing a shirt really.”

“Ace!” You barely garbled out.

“I think you’re amazing,” he continued, holding firm - and you could feel his heart pounding under your palm, “and like you said, I hate the cursed blood I carry.”

“It’s not-”

“But you know how I said I want to live a life without regrets?” You stopped struggling. “I’m not good enough, never will be, not for you,” his hand squeezed yours, pushing it further against his chest, “but, I’d regret not trying to be good enough, I’d regret not shooting my shot.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?” You frowned. “What if I’m not good enough for you?”

“What’s that thing you like to say?” He hummed. “It’s my opinion?”

“I hate your opinion.”

He guffawed. “I’m a coward,” he confessed as he calmed down, “and a selfish bastard,” his smile rivaled the sun, “but I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, even if I’m not worthy.”

“You are,” you glared at him.

His expression went back to that charmingly confused one. “I’ve deemed you worthy,” you huffed - genuinely upset with how he was speaking about himself, “regardless of all this worthy-worthy talk, you’re the one I want to spend my life with too.”

You genuinely could not find it in you to care how cute his grin was right now, “and that’s the worst proposal I could receive!” You were fuming. “I hate it when you insult yourself like that!”

“I’m below you, but please accept me,” you scowled, “well no can do!”

His face fell at your rant. “I want an equal Ace,” you gestured with your free hand, “I want a partner, not an indentured servant! I don’t want to be put on a pedestal! If my husband isn’t willing to be on equal footing with me then-”

“Hey that wasn’t what I meant!” The object of your fury (and affections?) argued. “I’m just saying you’re out of my league!”

“That’s one thing to say,” you were rather animatedly ranting now, “and we’ll have to agree to disagree on that-because hot stuff you’re within a league of your own,” you continued what was likely years worth of frustration with his self-deprecation leaving you, “and for argument’s sake, let’s say you weren’t - that sounds like an excuse not to work hard to become worthy once I accept you!” 

“I didn’t mean that at all!” He cut into your rant. “‘Sides I already said I’m gonna bust my ass trying to be good enough for you!”

“Well that’s all any girl would ask for! You absolute dumbass!” You yelled back at him. “No one wants to hear their loved ones talk smack about themselves the way you do!”

“Just imagine we had kids one day and they hear their father talking about himself in such an awful way!” Seriously, where did this idiot come from? Talking about himself in such a terrible way. “What kind of lessons would you be teaching them? What kind of example are you setting? They’d learn to-”

“Kids?” He blinked owlishly at you - oh.

Ohhh…

Ohhhh nnnoooooo.

If he wasn’t holding your hand to his chest, you’d have put more distance between you two, but for now you’d have to settle for covering your face with one hand while looking away. It was silent for a long minute…was it a minute? You weren’t sure, but you felt Ace’s chest vibrate with a series of chuckles and braced yourself.

“You’re a real difficult woman to please, y’know?” You met his amused stare with your own unamused one.

“I don’t want to start our relationship on anything but a solid foundation,” you muttered, “if you don’t feel worthy, then put in the effort to feel worthy.”

His grin only widened, “y’know I’d take that to mean you want me the same way I want you.”

“I think that fact is pretty well established by this point,” you grumbled.

“If I understood everything,” oh he looked so smug right now, “then if I wanna tell you I love you, I can’t say anything about how you’re out of my league?”

“You think I’m out of your league.”

“Oh that’s right, because I’m hot stuff.”

He laughed some more when you rolled your eyes. His laughs died immediately when you said, “you are hot stuff.”

“Because…I’m made of fire?” He gulped.

“No.”

“I forgot how assertive you could get,” he blushed, stunned, “it’s been a while since I pissed you off huh?”

Your embarrassment was beginning to catch up to you, as you adjusted yourself to be able to rest your cheek on your palm. You were avoiding looking at him, even if he was essentially burning a hole into you with how he was unabashedly looking at you.

“That bit about our future kids…I never wanted any, but I’m starting to like the idea,” he was being such a tease.

“Yeah? Well, I want kids!” You huffed, still not looking at him.

“Mmm, even if they’re mine?”

“Especially if they’re yours!” You huffed. “You and the idiots in the World Government are the only people with such a weird fixation on Gold Roger’s blood.”

“Darlin’ you’re being really bold right now,” he was grinning, “how mad at me are you?”

“I’m livid,” you finally turned to glare at him, “you’ve been saying absolutely awful things about my d-dear darling husband! It’s-it’s unforgivable!”

One corner of his lips curled upwards at the way you stuttered, but the little flickers of flames popping off his shoulders revealed he was just as embarrassed as you were. “Sounds like,” he swallowed thickly, “sounds like you really like this husband of yours.”

You swallowed as you looked him in the eyes, “I love him.”

His eyes widened, then he scowled, “hey! I wanted to say it first!”

“Well, be faster next time!” You stuck your tongue out at him - wait. “You did though.”

“Ah! So you did hear me!” He pointed a finger at you, finally releasing your hand, letting it drop from his chest.

“Yeah,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest, “but you were being mean to yourself, so I had more important things to deal with.”

“More important than me telling you I love you?” He looked at you incredulously. “For the first time?”

“Well maybe if you didn’t put yourself down right after,” you poked his nose with your index finger, “I would have focused on the ‘I love you’ part more!”

His eye twitched for all but a moment, expression indignant, “you’re really hot when you’re assertive y’know?” 

You sputtered at that and looked away to maintain some semblance of composure. You didn’t see that coming. He called for you and you looked at him again, “you asked me if I was sure about this.”

You nodded at him, frustration finally cooling down.

“I’ve never been so certain about anything in my life,” he declared, “I want you by my side, I want to be by yours, I want to spend the rest of our lives together until we’re nothing but skeletons in a grave.”

“I love you,” he stated it like it was as factual as the sea being blue, “even when you’re mad and yelling at me for confessing to you badly,” his grin settled for something more solemn as he asked, “what about you? Are you sure?”

“I am,” you nodded, “I want to build a life together. With you.”

“I love you,” he breathed it out like a prayer then, and you couldn’t help but describe his expression as reverent.

“I love you too,” you responded firmly as though it were an irrefutable fact, and you could feel your smile threaten to split your face in two.

“Satisfied?” He asked. “Is this ground solid enough for us?”

“I think so,” you nodded, “I want nothing but success for our relationship.”

“Me too,” he grinned as he ruffled through his pockets, from which he pulled out two velvet boxes. “I got these with-what did you call it again?” He grinned. “Honest money?”

You simply stared at the boxes in shock, then back up at your husband, then back down at the boxes. “What?” There was an amused lilt to his speech. “Y’didn’t think I would confess to you unprepared now did ya?”

You guessed you did, with the surprise you were feeling, as you tentatively reached for one of the boxes and opened it up. To your greatest fortune the silver band was clearly meant for a groom. Your eyes widened when you looked over and saw the ring he’d picked out for you, raising a brow at him you couldn’t help but wonder, “how did you get the funds for this?”

“I did some work around that island we were on,” he beamed, “and sold some of the gifts they gave us when we beat those sea kings.”

“It’s so pretty,” you admired what was going to be your ring, it reminded you a little of fire, the ruby red gem was cut in a teardrop shape however the surrounding gems were arranged in such a way that it looked like a flame, you giggled your shoulders relaxing, “it reminds me of you.”

“That right?” He smiled, removed the ring and packed the box up in his pocket, as he took your left hand in his, “I kinda wanted it to,” he admitted as he slid the ring on your finger.

While you were admiring your finger, Ace tried to grab the other box from you, however you pulled it out of his grasp, “ah ah ahh,” you tutted, “I’ll be the one to do the honors!”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I really like it when you’re assertive.”

He laughed at you as you pointedly avoided his waggling brows until you had the ring ready. He already had his hand out for you to slide the ring into, seemingly more than happy to wear that symbol that seemed so silly to him…until now, you supposed as you slid the band onto his finger. 

“Should we say vows?” You asked. “Wait, didn’t they say the vows before the rings?”

Ace hooked his pinky with yours, “I promise - er - vow, to…” he gulped and you could feel him heat up, “love…you…uh until I die - for as long as I live?” He slacked. “I’m not great at this poetic stuff.”

“Then don’t be poetic,” you smiled at him, “just say what you want to say.”

“Then,” he tightened his pinky, “I’m gonna work hard every day to be a man worthy of being by your side,” he looked you dead in the eyes, “it’s true that it’s due to pure luck I even got the chance to get to know you, but I won’t ever let this opportunity go. I’ll love you to the day I die, and even beyond that if I can.”

“You already said that,” you smiled at him, “maybe we didn’t need to do vows.”

“I’ll say it every day if you want me to.”

Somehow…somehow…now that you had a ring on your finger, and with your pinky linked to his, and with him reiterating how strongly he felt…somehow…

All you could do was blink at him. 

This was really happening. 

The last remnants of indignation flickered away into the breeze that toyed with the waves of your beloved’s hair.

Oh.

This was…you were…Ace was…you blinked up at him, “is this real life, or am I dreaming right now?”

His determined expression was wiped off with one that was very unamused, “I’m out here pouring my heart to you - wait you dream about me?”

“Maybe once or twice?” You continued to gape at him. Noticing his own surprised expression, you shook yourself out of your trance, and pulled at your joined pinkies. “Oh-yeah, my-my turn.”

His gaze carried that same softness you’d seen for a while now as he waited to hear your vows, “I know it won’t always be easy, the same way painting a masterpiece isn’t easy, but,” you paused your joy teasing your lips, “I am determined to spend the rest of my life here with you,” you looked him straight in the eyes, “you’re worth every bit of love I have to give, and I’ll prove it through my efforts and commitment, I’ll work hard so you’ll never regret choosing me.”

“Never,” he affirmed.

“Using a negative term…feels rather…negative, don’t you think?” You thought aloud.

“Then,” he shook your pinky-linked hands, “I’m going to work hard every day to make sure you’re always happy you married me.”

“And I’m going to make sure you’re always happy you chose me.”

“Always,” he affirmed again, the two of you laughing at the repetition of the pattern.

“Pops was right,” he let go of your pinky.

“About?”

“He kept telling everyone to calm down and stop meddling because our relationship would happen in its own time,” he sheepishly scratched at the back of his neck, “though he did tell me not to wait forever after a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“A few months?”

“Oh pops,” you chuckled as you reached for his tattooed wrist tracing the mark of your late captain, “Marco found out about my feelings for you from Thatch.”

“From Thatch?” He looked surprised. “Marco knew?”

There was betrayal written all over his expression.

“That’s probably why he was pushing you to confess after the war,” you continued to trace his tattoo even as he shuddered, “Marco tried to get me to confess too.”

“He did?”

“It felt wrong,” you shook your head, looking up at him, “you’d nearly died, pops had died, I was a mess mentally, I figured you’d be a mess mentally,” you continued to shake your head as your breathing shallowed, “I told him as much, and he stopped trying to convince me.”

“How’d Thatch find out?”

“Teased me about hosting a wedding banquet given we didn’t have one because y’know?” Your smile was gentle as you remembered the late Fourth Division Commander, your finger resuming its path along the inked mustache. “I told him not to joke about that - and he figured it out immediately.”

“Then he went and told Marco?” Ace guessed. “Wait, I remember there being a day when you were chasing after Thatch on the deck, looking really desperate about something.”

“Yepp,” you nodded, taking in a deep inhale you traced the crossbones on your husband’s skin again, “got him to promise not to tell anyone else after I found out he’d told Marco.”

“Y’know, at that point I was already a goner for you,” he confessed, “and the crew already knew about me.”

A silence passed over the two of you, as you continued to play with the mark on his skin.

“To think…you liked me too?” He scratched the back of his head with the hand not currently in your clutches. “I mean back then!”

“Is it really that surprising?” You pressed down on his pulse a little.

“It’s just,” you looked up at him, “darlin’,” there was that sweet, sweet adage again, “you ended up on my ship due to pure dumb luck,” his hand moved to grab your own that was still tracing his tattoo, “you’re practically a princess in comparison to a pirate like me.”

You scoffed at that, “please, I am far from being a princess.”

“To me you are,” this might be the softest you’ve ever seen your friend, “and this isn’t me talking down about myself,” he poked you in the forehead, “you’re smart, you’ve got a family that wouldn’t hesitate to shoot me dead if I ever tried anything funny-”

You laughed at that bit, “my cousin especially.”

“She was more than ready to have my head and I hadn’t even done anything yet,” he laughed alongside you, “‘the only reason I’m letting you take her is because I have to! Who knows what they’ll do to her in the marine prisons.’ was what she said before threatening to hunt me down.”

You both laughed at that, “if she sees you keep me safe and make me happy she’ll love you, you know?”

“Love me like that?” He raised a brow at you.

“Maybe!” You shrugged.

“You see?” He gently poked your cheek with his knuckle, “you’re royalty. Way out of my league.”

“Technically you’re royalty,” you flicked his forehead.

“How?” His confused expression was absolutely adorable.

“Pops was an Emperor!” You beamed. “You’re a pirate prince.”

The two of you shared a laugh, the ridiculousness of the notion amusing both of you until, “oh that’s right!”

“What is?” Ace startled as you suddenly straightened up, shoving your hand into your own pocket, and pulling out a small wooden plaque attached to an adjustable black cable.

Upon further inspection it became apparent that it was a bracelet - one you’d whittled back at the little family’s shop. On the main plaque there was Whitebeard’s jolly roger, and it was surrounded by two wooden “beads” - could you call them that? One was a flame shape and the other a spade, you’d had to make sure they were thick enough that you could put a hole through either one.

“This is for you!” You beamed at him as you offered it to him.

“Did you make this?” He stared between you and the bracelet.

“Yeah!” You grinned. “I tried making your happy and sad faces, but it didn’t work out, so I made a spade and little flame instead!”

“You sure know how to make a man feel loved,” he gently traced at the jolly roger etched in the wood.

“I hope you always feel loved in my presence,” you beamed.

“I do,” he grinned at you, “so much it’s almost scary,” he held out the bracelet to you, “will you do the honors?”

“With pleasure,” you took the trinket out of his hands and slid it onto his bare, right wrist.

He barked out a laugh, when you went straight back to playing with the tattoo on his pulse. “What’s so funny?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, “I’m just thinking about how we could have been real years ago.”

“In that case weren’t we technically a real couple at that point? If everybody knew?” You rubbed your thumb along his tattooed pulse point. “Except for us, that is.”

“Mmm but I wanted to do, coupley things with you,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, relishing in how that seemed to make you shy.

Though, it seemed like you weren’t one to simply let him have the last say. You weren’t looking at him as you took his tattooed pulse and brought it to your lips. He jolted at the sensation, heart leaping. Little flames flickering out of his shoulders as you made eye contact with him afterwards, “how’s that for coupley things?”

He was quick to grab and tug you into him, relishing in your mild surprise, “don’t you know better than to play with fire?” He grinned at you as he readjusted the hand that had found its way to your waist. 

“I remember being told I have to ask a lady for permission to kiss her,” he nodded his chin at your lips, “may I?”

You were too embarrassed to say yes, instead choosing to cover your face with your hands. “Ace!” You whined. “Have mercy on me.”

“I didn’t realize you were this shy,” he was chuckling, “where’d your bold attitude go?”

He guffawed when you let out an embarrassed screech at the reminder, “I was absolutely shameless earlier, don’t remind me!”

“I didn’t think so,” oh you could hear the smug grin on his face, “you felt more fierce to me,” he sounded closer, “it’s a real turn on, y’know?”

“Ace!” You garbled out.

He chose to press a little kiss to your forehead instead, “I’m not gonna push you, just teasing you a little is all.”

True to his word, he readjusted his hold, and repositioned the two of you so that he could hug you from behind. He was kinda like a koala bear in that regard.

“Hey Ace?” He gave a small hum in response. “Can I see your tattoo again?”

“You sure like playing with it huh?” He asked as he handed his hand over to you and you turned slightly in his hold.

You could feel his eyes on you as you pressed your thumbs into it, feeling the steady thrum of his heart. Once again, you brought his wrist to gently brush your lips against it, and felt him jolt. Finally you brought his pulse to your forehead, “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

When you turned to face him again, his cheeks were bright, dusted in those freckles you adored, as he smiled, not a shadow in sight, “me too.”

As always I am OPEN TO CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM, and would like to know if anyone seemed out of character. Please and thank you! Reblogs and comments appreciated!

Want more Ace stuff? Check out my MasterList

[chososcamgirl]

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER TWENTY: love me anyway

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The sheets beneath her stir as the first light of day seeps through the thin, worn curtains, casting an almost mournful glow across the room. The sun’s touch is gentle, but it’s a reminder of another morning, another routine she knows all too well.

This feels familiar. Too familiar.

She has lived this moment countless times—each one an echo of the last, a rhythm of anticipation and careful avoidance. She knows the weight of the silence, the delicate pause before she turns over. 

And when she does, she meets his eyes.

Those green eyes. 

They’re always the same. The way they linger on her, taking in every curve, every freckle, every scar that marks her—his gaze tracing the map of her body like it’s something sacred, something precious. She feels bare, exposed, but there’s a strange comfort in it, a quiet surrender. 

His hand, gentle, almost reverent, reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture is simple, yet it shakes her in a way she can’t quite explain. Her breath catches as if bracing for something she’s not quite ready to face, as if she knows, deep down, that whatever happens next will hurt. 

"Morning," he whispers, his voice thick with the weight of unspoken things.

She smiles, but it’s not the smile of someone who’s truly at peace. It’s the smile of someone who knows the cost of each word, of every touch.

“Morning.”

The sheets are pulled tighter against her bare skin, the softness a fragile comfort in the quiet, uncertain space between them.

For a fleeting moment, the room softens, bathed in the muted orange light of early morning. The world outside fades away—the ticking clock, the distant hum of life beyond the walls—all of it dissolves, leaving only them. Two people in one bed. Not quite lovers. Not quite strangers. Something undefined. Something fragile and yet impossibly real.

“I want to be with you, Yn,” his words break the stillness, and though they’re spoken with the sincerity of someone who has nothing left to hide, they land heavy between them.

The light in the room seems to dim, as if the weight of his confession has cast a shadow over everything. The ticking of the clock grows louder, more intrusive, and she feels the rhythm of time moving against her, as if reminding her that this moment—like all the others—will soon pass.

“I’m just… not ready, Megs,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart heavy with the truth of the words. She can feel the sting of them as they leave her mouth—words she never wanted to speak, yet always knew she would. 

He winces, like her words are a wound. The nickname hangs in the air between them, a reminder of all the things they’ve never said. It’s a name that feels too close to something they both fear. 

“We can take it slow,” he says, his voice almost desperate now, like a plea disguised as an offer. 

She doesn’t respond immediately. She opens her mouth, but the words don’t come. Her mind is spinning, caught between what she wants and what she knows she can’t have. Before she can find the clarity, she needs, the bedroom door swings open, and the familiar sound of footsteps interrupts the fragile moment.

“Woahhhh, clothes, please,” Nobara’s voice rings out, laced with her usual irreverence, as she strides into the room, her eyes already covering her face in mock horror as she heads straight for the closet.

“Nobara, it’s literally my room,” Yn mutters, her voice thick with exhaustion.

“Okay, damn, whatever happened to being civil,” Nobara replies, as if she couldn’t care less, already rummaging through the clothes in the closet.

Yn sighs, shaking her head, and despite herself, a reluctant smile plays at the corner of her lips. The moment between her and him slips away, as it always does, swallowed up by the noise, the chaos, the distractions of life. And in that silence, she’s left wondering if the real truth is the one she’s always too afraid to face.

"Oh breakfast is ready by the way," she says, as she finishes up with whatever she was fishing out the closet. She pauses for a moment and lets out a sigh, her eyes flicking toward the door. "I’m just... relieved you two worked it out. I can’t stand the thought of her going back to Sukuna again." She shoots them a smile before she shuts it behind her with a firm, deliberate click.

A thick, suffocating tension settles over the room, hanging in the air like smoke. The weight of unspoken words presses down on both of them, and suddenly, that familiar, uneasy feeling claws its way back—not just in her stomach this time, but in his as well. It coils in their chests, binding them together in an uncomfortable silence.

“What does she mean, again?” His voice is distant, almost hollow, as he stares at her. There’s a blankness in his eyes, but she can see the storm brewing beneath the surface.

She pauses, the words swirling in her mind, but they refuse to form. 

“You slept with your ex?” The question falls from his lips with an unsettling calmness, as though he’s already resigned to the pain it causes.

“...Well... yeah,” she admits, her fingers instinctively scratching the back of her neck. It’s a nervous gesture, one she wishes she could take back, but it’s too late now.

“We were never exactly... together,” she tries to explain, as if offering that detail might somehow make it less of a betrayal. 

But he doesn’t seem to care about the details. His face hardens, eyes narrowing as the words sink in. “But what happens when we are?” he demands, his voice tight with something between anger and hurt.

"What happens when it’s real?"

Her throat tightens, her heart pounding in her chest. She doesn’t have an answer. She’s never had an answer. 

He doesn’t wait for her to speak. The words come fast, like an accusation she’s too afraid to answer. “Are you gonna go back to him every time we argue?”

The question hits her like a blow, the weight of it settling deep in her bones. 

It hurts.

She’s always prided herself on being tough, on keeping the hard things from breaking her. But this—his voice, sharp and cold—cuts deeper than she’s ready for. It finds the cracks in her walls and tears them open. For the first time, she feels exposed. Vulnerable. And it makes her want to run, to flee from this moment before it can consume her.

She swallows, trying to steady herself. “And what about you?” she counters, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. “What are you gonna do? Humiliate me in front of all your thousands of fans? Air out all our business for everyone to see?” 

Her words come out harsh, a bitter retaliation, but they feel like the only defence she has left. She’s trying to protect herself, trying to lash out before he can wound her any further.

But as soon as the words leave her mouth, she realizes how pointless it all is. In the heat of the moment, they’ve both become something they never wanted to be—two people fighting, two people unravelling. And the deeper they dig in their heels, the further apart they’ll fall. 

She doesn’t know if either of them has the strength to put it all back together.

“That’s not the point, Yn.” His voice is low, edged with frustration, as he stands up from the bed. His movements are deliberate, almost stiff, as he gathers his clothes from the floor. Every motion is a careful retreat, a silent act of distancing himself from the words they both know are about to tear them apart.

Yn watches him, her chest tightening, her patience wearing thin. “Oh, then tell me, Megumi. What’s the point?” Her tone is laced with venom now, each word dripping with sarcasm as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Go on, I’m waiting. Enlighten me.”

He stumbles slightly as he tries to pull his pants back on, his fingers trembling just enough to betray the calm exterior he’s trying to hold on to. When he finally turns to face her, his eyes are hard, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability beneath the anger—an ache he can’t mask.

“It’s the fact that you keep doing the same shit over and over again,” he says, his voice thick with frustration. He rubs his temples with his right hand, fingers digging into his skin as if trying to erase the pain building inside him. “It’s like I’m invisible until it’s convenient for you.”

Yn feels the sting of his words, but it’s not enough to make her back down. She’s already out of bed, a shirt hastily thrown over her, unsure if it’s her own or his. It doesn’t matter. She could be wearing nothing at all, and it wouldn’t change the suffocating weight of this conversation.

“Megumi, what the fuck are you even saying?” Her voice wavers between anger and hurt, each word a shard of glass she’s trying to throw back at him. “Last night, you said you’d wait forever if that’s what it took. And now? Now you’ve ‘slept on it,’ and suddenly you’ve had some sort of fucking epiphany? Everything’s changed?” She scoffs bitterly, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

He flinches, but he doesn’t back down. “No. What’s unbelievable is you thinking that leading me on is just some checkbox to tick off in your mind,” he says, his voice rough. “Like I’m some fucking game you can pick up and put down when it suits you.”

The accusation hangs in the air, thick with all the things they’ve both left unsaid. The silence between them pulses with tension, the weight of their words pulling them further apart. 

“Just because we do relationship things doesn’t mean we’re actually in a relationship, Megumi,” she snaps, her voice low but sharp, her hands clenched at her sides. The words feel empty as soon as they leave her mouth, but she forces herself to stand tall, even as her heart cracks.

He shakes his head, his jaw clenched tight. “And that’s your problem, Yn. You won’t let it be real. You won’t put a label on it because you’re scared. You’re terrified of what happens when it actually matters.”

She feels the sting of his words like a slap, but her pride won’t let her show it. “I’m scared?” She laughs bitterly, a hollow sound that rings out in the silence of the room. “Who’s the one practically begging for a relationship in my fucking bedroom right now?”

The moment stretches out, heavy and charged with everything they’ve both kept inside. For the first time, Megumi is silent. His mouth moves, but no words come. They stand there, across the bed from each other, like two people lost in a storm, too proud to admit they’re both drowning.

Then, finally, he sighs—a long, weary sound that seems to carry all the weight of last night. 

“If I told you I loved you right now,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “would you say the same?”

Yn’s heart stops for a beat, and for a moment, she can’t breathe. The question hangs in the air, as fragile and raw as anything either of them has ever said. Her chest tightens, and her throat constricts, but the words she needs to say—want to say—don’t come. She opens her mouth, but nothing escapes. The silence between them stretches, unbearable and all-encompassing.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he mutters, his eyes downcast as he collects the last of his things. The finality in his movements feels like a wall being built, the space between them suddenly too wide to bridge.

And then, without another word, he walks out. The sound of his footstep’s fades, leaving nothing behind but the echoes of a conversation that was never meant to be this way.

Yn stands in the quiet aftermath, her body frozen, her mind racing. The weight of his words lingers in the stillness, thick and suffocating. She wants to scream, wants to ask him to come back, to say it wasn’t real, that this wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

But the room feels emptier now. And the silence between them feels like a wound that neither of them knows how to heal.

In the end, there are no answers. Only unanswered questions and heart breaking in ways she doesn’t know how to fix.

Make that two.

—

“Oh my god… so he actually put the condoms on the register right in front of you?” The blue-haired girl laughed, nearly tipping out of her chair from how hard she was giggling.

“Yeah… haha,” Yn replied, the laughter sounding forced, hollow in her ears. She hoped Miwa didn’t notice the way her smile didn’t reach her eyes, or how the pit in her stomach seemed to deepen with every passing second. The tension was unbearable. 

Miwa, still oblivious, laughed louder, her carefree amusement filling the space between them. She had no idea that Yn was carrying something far heavier than a simple awkward moment. That she hadn’t told her about the morning after. 

The words were still so vivid in Yn’s mind, like a photograph she couldn’t look away from:

“If I told you I love you, would you say the same?”

They kept playing on a loop, unbidden, repeating with an intensity that only seemed to grow with time. Each time they hit; it was like a small shard of glass piercing her heart all over again. 

The sound of Miwa’s laughter slowly faded as she caught her breath, the moment stretching long and tense. Yn could feel her pulse in her ears, the weight of her regret thickening the air around her.

The song she’d been playing on air was ending, and before Miwa could notice the change in her, Yn hit the controls in front of her, quickly unmuting the mic, almost mechanically.

“And that was Crush by Ethel Cain, up next is Love Me Anyway by Chappell Roan!” she announced, her voice smooth despite the storm brewing inside her.

The opening notes of the song filled the air, but the lyrics hit her harder than any sound could.

As the first notes of the new song filtered through the speakers, Yn could feel each word like an arrow lodged in her chest. The lyrics, so raw, so painfully accurate, seemed to speak to her very soul.

“Sometimes I forget, wasn’t always this way…”

“It’s hard to admit, I was the one to blame…”

She wanted to turn the song off, and shut it out, but she couldn’t. The truth was unbearable, but it was also undeniable. She knew what she’d done. She knew how much it had cost her. Megumi had loved her. Not in some fleeting, casual way, but in a way that she had never experienced before. He had been real with her. Vulnerable. And she had let him go. 

The weight of that mistake pressed on her like a physical force. Her chest tightened, the pain so raw, so real, it felt like she might choke on it. She could have fought for him. She could have tried harder. But instead, she’d walked away, choosing fear over something real.

The thought felt like a physical blow, one that stole her breath for a moment, leaving her feeling hollow and ashamed. She had let him slip through her fingers, let him walk away because she wasn’t brave enough to let herself love him the way he had loved her.

She hadn’t just lost him. She’d lost her chance at something that could have been everything. And now, all she could do was replay the moment, over and over, until it felt like she might break under the weight of it.

"Fuck," she whispered to herself, the word tasting bitter in her mouth. 

I fucked up. I fucked up so badly.

backstage!

• megumi definitely has something undiagnosed about him….

• bpd??? autism?? ocd??? speculate your theories in the comments NOW

• oomf said 500 days of summer coded and i RAN with it

• the party girls def heard them from the kitchen and they were just silently staring at eachother while ynmegumi were arguing LMFAOOO

• when they heard yn’s door open they quickly became occupied with something else hashtag awkies

• megumi got back home mad as hell

• no he did not punch the walls.

• he instead turned on ribs in the fetal position on his bed and listened to it on loop for 3 hours (tzc☃️)

• yuji was on tiktok live and u could just hear it in the background very faintly

• yk i had forgetting about the whole maneater station until a certain oomf starting with r and ending in ee rhymes with pee commented about it.

• Thank You Ree💕💝💘💗💖💞

• i missed miwayn hours BAD

a/n: i don’t know which was worse. writing this or the after effects of consuming expired laxatives. maybe both… HAPPY SJAP WEEKEND! sorry it’s a bit later than usual but we ball. sunday AND monday posts coming still🙂‍↕️ im not bailing on you guys again. i’ve been drained af. and i think im getting sick again. and i have to be up in 4 hours. everyone comment hashtag grateful so i can wake up and not want to kill myself❤️

taglist: @shokosbunny @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @ichcocat @laughingfcx @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @starantulas @1l-ynn @sluttkuna @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm @syxoki

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[earthtooz]

x : DON'T GO :*+ﾟ

in which: blade has always felt cold, but even more so without you.

warnings: 1.9k words, HURT/COMFORT with a sprinkle of angst, gn!reader who calls blade 'ren' once, mention of blood, ooc!vulnerable!blade, he's like a kicked puppy in this one

a/n: perhaps the most intimate piece i've wrote to date, this is nothing but pure yearning and longing on blade's behalf, and a nice fix-it fic with the most vulnerable i think blade could ever be. enjoy!!

in his new life, blade has always felt cold.

he is not spared from the constant feeling of goosebumps prickling his skin, not even for a second as the cold bites the tip of his fingers and sink their teeth into him to send shivers up his spine. but he has never felt colder than he does right now. 

your side of the bed is untouched, perfectly made, and devoid of any indication that you had been there. the blankets and mattress are cool to touch, with hardly any wrinkles in the sheets, and an ache declares itself home in blade’s chest.

the sun spills on his bare skin when he kicks the covers off, illuminating his scar-ridden chest as he gazes around the room, as if waiting for an sign that you were still here, and that he wasn’t too late. however, an immediate soreness tickles his throat that causes him to wince, serving as a reminder of the unpleasant discourse you had last night. 

it was hardly over anything of importance, but blade, a man of pride and relentlessness, had refused to back down, and you went to bed angry that night. he did too but woke regretful and cold under the covers, your warmth taken with you.

today was the day you had to leave for a mission, and although he knows you have a strict schedule to follow, he just wonders why you couldn’t have woken him up to say goodbye, especially after everything. 

he didn’t even get to say sorry or try to at least make amends. the swordsman only hopes you didn’t leave furious with him, and that you at least had something to eat before leaving.

to distract himself from the heartache, blade forgoes lying around and decides to start his day before the absence you left overwhelms him and the only thing his mind can do is think about you. 

not that he’s successful, because despite dedicating a monotonous afternoon of drilling sword techniques, the rampant thoughts about you did not decrease. rather, with each swing and sway of the cracked blade, his mind finds more and more to think about, with you at the epicentre of all of them.

it’s sometime around sunset when blade receives update on your status.

the swordsman is sat on a stone ledge, gold rays from the sun spilling on his skin as he waits for the sweat and fatigue to roll off. blade thinks of how you’d normally be seated nearby, watching him train to supply water and energy bars. although he never used to like the company or the doting, it doesn’t feel the same without you beside him, he misses you and wonders when you’ll return. 

“how long have you been here?” a raspy, female voice asks, breaking blade’s train of thoughts.

“since noon,” he responds merely. he doesn’t need to look up to see that it’s kafka talking to him.

“right. makes sense. i thought you’d be lonely since y/n’s gone.”

“need you remind me?” he huffs, voice teetering a threatening gruffness that would make ordinary people shudder, but does nothing to kafka.

“oh, spicy today, aren’t we?” she coos, ignoring the immense pressure radiating off blade effortlessly before taking a seat beside him. “what’s up? is there trouble in paradise?” a scoff comes from the swordsman. “i was only joking, did something really happen between you two?”

“none of your business.” 

kafka shrugs before her phone begins vibrating violently. when she reads the notifications, her face pulls the closest expression to concern that blade has ever seen her wear. 

“y/n got ambushed.”

his world freezes over.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the sunlight is gentle in blade’s eyes when he wakes up.

clothes are strewn on the floor, bedsheets are half off the bed, ceramics lie in pieces along the cracks of the planks, and despite the mess blade has made of your shared space, he is the most crumpled of them all. a kaleidoscope of volcanic anger, tsunamic worry, and mountainous yearning, the only place that has remained untouched by blade’s destructive touch is your side of the bed, lest your scent disappears. 

it’s been five days since anyone has received a live update from you, only hanging on to tracking notifications of your spaceship as any indication that you were fine. for the duration of it, nothing has been able to calm him, with kafka and silver wolf needing to stun him before he could do anything brash, like running off into the infinite cosmos to find you.

elio’s promises had never felt emptier, his constant claims of how you’d return very soon turning into dust in blade’s ears because how could he hold on to hope when you are alone amongst the stars? 

his texts are left delivered, but never read. in fact, it has been five days since your contact displayed to be online, and he finds himself staring at it in case that the circle will illuminate green, that you’ll give him some sort of update on your liveliness. 

so that you’ll see how sorry he is and all he wants for you is to return home. 

he doesn’t remember when he became so dependent, but perhaps this is another cruel punishment from fate with another inconceivable price of repentance.

for someone as unforgivable and despicable as blade to love means to mutilate the universe with aftershocks that tear through boundaries of what’s possible. for a man like blade to rebel, it means that the consequences will return tenfold.

and there is no crueller damnation than tearing you away from him. 

he turns on his side, arms reaching over to where you would normally lie, and dozes off again, feeling colder than ever.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

blade wakes up a second time. the sun is no longer the thing that awakens him, but rather, the sound of footsteps that echo outside the bedroom. disgruntled and still trying to gather his bearings, he shoots awake at the sound of your door opening.

you stand on the other side.

is this a dream?

“oh,” you breathe. you sound winded, caught off guard by the sight of your lover who stares at you like a bewildered deer. “i’m sorry, i didn’t think you would be here.”

he doesn’t say anything, just merely looks at you, unnervingly unresponsive.

you look miserable. fatigue clings to your skin like a second skin, your eyes lack the brightness they usually have, and you are, evidently, very battered and bruised, blood staining your ruined clothes. 

but you are like sunlight, and blade thinks he can breathe again. 

“i guess i’ll leave,” you murmur, interrupting blade’s momentary assessment.

“don’t.”

turning back around, the swordsman is now slowly stalking towards you, seemingly teleported from the bed to halfway across the room in the blink of an eye. 

“is something wrong?” you ask and he holds back a scoff from the irony of your question. he’s the one that should be asking that, not you. 

but yes, there is something wrong; you left him alone. you went somewhere he couldn’t and then made him feel helpless because he didn’t know whether or not you were going to come back, stranded in the cosmos forever. 

stopping before you, his hands gravitate upwards with the magnetic need to touch you, to ensure that you were real and not some figment of his hazy imagination. blade raises a hesitant hand to sit on the back of your neck and the frostiness of his fingertips causes a shiver to run up your spine. gently, he presses you for a pulse and visibly gulps when he finds it, suffocating you in the tense silence that has occupied the air (you’re real, and you’re okay, delivered back to him in one piece).

then, he looks at you with the saddest expression you have ever seen him wear before engulfing you in his embrace. the stellaron hunter is hesitant with his touch, hovering around you in fear of overstepping, for blade would never forgive himself if he were to scare you off again. 

because you’re finally back where he can reach, and he never wants you to leave. 

“ren?” you pause, gently wrapping your arms around his waist and closing the gap he left, meeting him halfway. the little action floods him with endless relief. “what’s the matter?”

he shakes his head against you and his hold tightens mercilessly, squeezing all air out of your lungs. 

“you had me worried,” he confesses, no louder than a whisper because otherwise he would crack under the weight of his own words. the constant fear that has plagued him for the last few days would finally break him and he’d be in shambles in your arms, making a mess of something gorgeous with something hideous. 

so instead, he will continue simply holding onto you where you are safe. in his arms, you cannot leave, you cannot go places that danger you, and you cannot break his heart and choke him with the emptiness of your presence.

“i’m sorry,” you say, rubbing his back and he tugs you closer. “i didn’t mean to worry you, everything jus-”

“-you left without saying goodbye.”

you’re silent and guilty, but so beautiful. “i thought you didn’t want to see me. we were pretty mean to each other before i left,” you say after a second of contemplation. “i didn’t know where we stood, i wasn’t sure if you still wanted me.”

whatever is left of his heart breaks, crumbling into shambles that ring at your feet. there are a multitude of things that blade wants to say, yet no words come to fruition, to his dismay. he wants to offer you the comfort and promises you want to hear, and he wants to express the overwhelming relief he feels, but he can’t, and he curses his own inability to be heartfelt. 

instead, his grip around you tightens, like you’ll slip away otherwise and have him search for you throughout the cosmos. 

“don’t do any of that again,” he pleads instead, hoping that you’ll understand. “i beg of you.”

“okay,” you breathe. “i won’t.”

“don’t leave like that,” he tugs at your ruined shirt, grasp gentle and careful in fear of scaring you away with the intensity of his emotions that are hanging on by a thread

“i wont.” 

“please don’t go.”

“i’m here, aren’t i?”

blade sighs, nodding. you smile at him and it feels like a warmth powerful enough to drive the cold away. 

“but first, i need a bath,” you murmur, placing your hands on his chest to push him away. “please, keep your distance, i’m pretty sure i reek.”

he doesn’t say anything and clearly doesn’t listen, because instead of letting go, he simply leads you to the bathroom without ever unwrapping his arms. soon, the bath begins to run, and the sound of water streaming down ceramic echoes off the tiles, but the warmth of your laughter and tired words overpower it. blade sits at the edge, nothing but an oversized shadow that watches as you relax in the water, frowning when he catches the frequent bruise or fresh scar. 

afterwards, you both stumble onto the bed (careful to avoid the mess that blade as made, which you scolded him for, and he listened dejectedly before promising to clean it all up), and blade reaches over to your side, chest warming when he finds your figure to tug close. 

you fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. your lover, on the other hand, stays awake for a few moments longer, simply trying to commit you to memory. 

“don’t go,” he repeats, tugging at your shirt as the evenness of your heartbeat lulls him to sleep.

he doesn’t feel cold anymore. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[itacats]

Butcher Shop Connection

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: DV, abuse, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

SUM: The fragile joy of connection with Simon is quickly overshadowed by the suffocating weight of home. Confronted by Tom’s cruelty, you struggle to protect yourself, both physically and emotionally, while clinging to the small glimmers of kindness Simon offers. In a world defined by shadows, hope flickers like a hesitant flame, but it’s a light you’re not ready to embrace—yet.

A/N: Ah, the emotional whiplash chapter. One moment, you’re swooning over rolled-up sleeves and car repairs, and the next, you’re wading through the muck of heartbreak and resilience. Hang tight; the rollercoaster isn’t over yet. 🎢

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 3 - Cracks in the Foundation

The moment you step through the front door, the warmth and joy from your encounter with Simon evaporate like dew under the harsh light of the morning sun. The house is quiet, but not in a comforting way—it’s the kind of silence that makes your chest tighten and your senses sharpen. The faint creak of the floor beneath your shoes feels deafening as you step into the kitchen.

Tom is there, leaning against the counter, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The shadows from the dim overhead light stretch across his face, making his expression even harder, more menacing. His eyes lock onto yours immediately, sharp and unrelenting. You can feel the judgment radiating from him, an oppressive weight settling on your shoulders.

"You’re late," he growls, his voice low and heavy, each syllable dripping with accusation.

Your heart races as you glance at the clock on the wall. It’s not that late—barely past eight—but you know it doesn’t matter. Tom’s moods don’t follow logic or reason; they’re a storm that sweeps in, indifferent to your explanations or pleas.

"I... I got stuck at the store," you begin, your voice trembling slightly. You hate how small it sounds, but before you can finish, he cuts you off.

"Out with someone else, are you?" he snaps, his voice rising. His face twists, his features contorted into something unrecognizable. "Who is it?"

The questions come at you like a barrage, cold and sharp, each one landing with a sting from his fists. You try to answer, to explain, but the words stick in your throat. Your mind flashes back to Simon—his gentle smile, the warmth in his eyes—and for a split second, you imagine what it would be like to tell Tom the truth. But you know better.

"Tom, please," you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was just the car—"

"Don’t lie to me!" he shouts, slamming his hand down on the counter. The sound echoes through the room, and you flinch instinctively, your body betraying the fear you try so hard to conceal.

"I’m not lying," you say, your voice breaking. "Please, just—"

"What? Do you want kindness?" Tom interrupts, his lips curling into a cruel sneer. "You know kindness never looked good on me."

His words hit like a blow, the same venomous refrain you’ve heard countless times before. The bitterness in his tone is more cutting than the words themselves, a reminder of how far you are from the kindness you once hoped for in your life.

That night, you curl up on the couch, your knees drawn tightly to your chest. Silent tears trace cold paths down your cheeks as you replay the argument in your mind, each word cutting deeper than the last, the memory of his hands staining your skin in ugly hues. The house feels colder than ever, the darkness pressing in on you from every corner.

When morning comes, you force yourself to your feet, your body moving on autopilot. You reach for the makeup on the bathroom counter, your hands trembling slightly as you smooth the heavy foundation over the forming bruises on your cheek. It feels like a mask, a way to conceal not just the physical marks but the emotional scars that run much deeper. The person in the mirror doesn’t look like you anymore.

You step into the butcher shop later that day, the bell’s cheerful chime feeling oddly out of place against the weight in your chest. You paste on a smile, the same practiced expression you’ve perfected over time, and make your way to the counter.

Simon is there, his eyes lighting up as he spots you. But the excitement in his gaze dims slightly as he takes in your stiff posture, the way you shift uncomfortably as you dig into your bag for your wallet.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentle and full of concern. The question is simple, but the way he asks it feels different—like he truly wants to know, like he’s ready to hear whatever you have to say.

For a moment, you hesitate. The warmth in Simon’s voice feels like a balm against the chill that’s settled deep in your bones, and you’re tempted—so tempted—to tell him the truth. To let someone else carry the weight for a little while.

But then the walls go up, as they always do. You smile, the expression tight and forced, and shake your head. "I’m fine," you say, the words hollow even to your own ears.

Simon doesn’t press, but the concern in his eyes doesn’t fade. If anything, it deepens, and for a fleeting moment, you think he might not let the matter drop. There’s something about him—his quiet determination, the steady strength you’ve seen in the way he carries himself—that makes you wonder if he could be the one to finally break through your defenses.

But you can’t let him. Not now. Not yet.

As you leave the shop, you glance back over your shoulder. Simon is still watching you, his gaze steady and unwavering. In that brief moment, you allow yourself to imagine a life where kindness isn’t just a fleeting encounter but a constant presence. Where the warmth of someone like Simon could replace the cold reality of your world.

"Maybe one day," you think, the words both a hope and a prayer. For now, you carry the thought of Simon with you, a small light in the darkness that has become your reality.

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

Thank you to @ghostlythots for the extra tags that I should have added!

[7ndipity]

“Just Breathe”

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You're nervous about meeting Yoongi's parents for the first time

Warnings: angst/comfort, brief mentions of toxic family life, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to @vicky-chaos for this request! I hope you like it!

Masterlist

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The late afternoon sun warmed your back as you walked down the street hand in hand with Yoongi, the familiar hum of street noise around you a welcome soundtrack that you hoped would distract from the anxious thoughts that had been filtering through your mind all day.

Normally you loved going on errand runs like these with Yoongi, finding comfort in the mundane routine, but today you had found yourself unable to relax fully and enjoy yourself, even now fidgeting with the handles of the shopping bags in your free hand.

Yoongi’s parents were coming to visit for the weekend, and he had asked if you wanted to help him cook dinner on the first night so that you could meet them. You had been touched that he wanted to introduce you to them at all and had agreed to the plan eagerly enough at first, but inside, there had been a growing tinge of “what if?”.

If this evening didn’t go well, you worried how it would affect you and Yoongi’s relationship going forward.

Yoongi had noticed your growing nerves and had tried to reassure you that things would be fine, even giving you a crash course on his parents' personalities and interests to help make you feel more confident and give you something to talk to them about.

“-And Dad likes reading, so just keep conversation focused around that if you can’t think of anything else.” He finished as you were headed back towards where he had parked the car.

“Right…” You replied distantly, chewing on your lip.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry.” He assured you, squeezing your hand gently.

You nodded, but you couldn’t stop your heart still anxiously skittering around your ribcage, seeking out escape.

“Hey,” His tone was much softer now, drawing your attention back to him with a gentle touch on your cheek, letting his fingers just brush over your skin in the same way that he did as you fell asleep at night. “Just breathe, okay? Everything will be fine. They’re gonna love you.”

You hesitated for the briefest moment.

“What if they don’t?” Your asked quietly, breaking his heart at how small you sounded.

He knew his parents weren’t the easiest to get along with, especially his father, but he had faith that they would see what a beautiful and remarkable person you were. He couldn’t imagine anyone meeting you and not immediately falling for your warm heart and infectious personality.

But no matter how many times Yoongi tried to encourage and reassure you, your anxieties over what could possibly go wrong persisted.

He knew your fears weren’t entirely unfounded; it was no secret to him that the relationship between you and your own parents was difficult to say the least, leaving you with more than a few emotional scars that you were slowly trying to heal. But he was not so secretly hoping that this might be the start of a better relationship with parental figures for you, that you might start to view his family as your own. He just needed you to believe.

“If they don’t like you, then that’s their problem and they’ll have to get over it.” He told you matter-of-factly.

“Yoongi-” You started, but he stopped you.

“I mean it, if they know me and care about me at all, then they’ll make the effort to get along with the person I love.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his in shock, making him realize his accidental admission.

“You love me?” You asked.

“Yeah, of course I do.” He said, trying to ignore the creeping redness that he could feel coloring his face.

“It’s just-, you’ve never said that before.” You pointed out, still staring at him.

“I’ve felt it for a while, I’d just been trying to find the right time to say something.” He replied quietly, suddenly finding the pavement very interesting as he scratched at the back of his neck self-consciously. “And it’s no big deal, you don’t have to say anything ba-”

“I love you too.” You cut him off.

His head snapped back up, his dark eyes filled with cautious hope.

“Really?” 

You nodded. “I always have.”

Before you could blink, Yoongi closed the gap between you, crushing you to his chest in a hug that nearly knocked the wind out of you.

“I love you.” He mumbled into your hair. “I love you so fucking much, and nothing anyone says can ever change that. Not my parents, not anyone.”

Your eyes stung at his words, trying to fight back the sudden wave of emotions that threatened to overtake you.

“I love you too.” You managed, blinking away the wetness in your eyes.

It was moments like this that reminded you of just how thankful you were to have Yoongi in your life, always willing to make room for you, to protect you, to fight for you.

After a long moment, he pulled away enough to meet your eye again.

“We got this, yeah?” He asked. “We’ll be okay.”

You nodded, a small, genuine smile creeping across your face for the first time today.

“Lets go home.” He said, catching your hand in his again and giving it a slight squeeze.

The two of you walked on together in comfortable silence, savoring the feel of the shared warmth of your joined hands, keeping away the autumn chill that tried to chill your fingers.

Everything would be okay. So long as you had each other to hold onto, you could face anything.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @universal-travel-er @k4ngelz

[1920sladydectective]

Best Friend's Mother Ch.3 6.8K

This is part three of the story inspired by @shinyshayminflower

It was gonna be the final part, but it's looking like there's at least another chapter or two to come

Angsty, Sad, just loads of stuff. Tiny bit of Smut MDNI 18+

Link to the whole fic on AO3 here lovelies, or you can scroll down my acc to find it here

Thank you @uselessbard1031 for being the best story sounding board

HERE WE GOOOOOOOOOO

The cold light of day revealed more than you could stomach. 

You hated yourself, hated her, hated everything you had ever stood for and accepted and wanted in that stupid house. 

Mel’s film came back a few days after you’d settled back into your flat, the Kodak Gold showing the pathetic rose tinted glasses that covered you for July and August. It was picturesque, toes in sand and melting Mr Whippys. Smooshed faces and a pissed off Mina. She showed them off, with a happy voice and gesticulating hands. It felt sort of like she was trying to cheer you up. 

You’d been in a ‘funk’ since you got back and it was being chalked up to your immediately heavy workload. 

That was it. Too much reading, four new essays and some new bullshit about work experience. Not the crushing void in your heart, not the breakup that was barely there, that existed for you and you alone. 

Ambessa Medarda was a black hole, alluring in her violence, beautiful in her consumption and you were mere space dust. That she had made abundantly clear. 

It kept you up at night, embarrassment curdled in you like milk. Body in tatters trying to keep your mind in check. 

I’ll ring you when I’m back

Whyever would you need to do that

You fucking idiot. 

Her stupid, soft pyjamas kept her grip on you, your phone’s fancy screen shining like her eyes. She was everywhere and you couldn’t tell anyone. 

You were the living dead, cursed to be unloved and used forever. You never thought of yourself as dramatic before, preferring humour and dismissiveness, but the gaping wound in you cried for attention. Cried to be acknowledged and picked at, a scar in the making, as each little flicker of healing was ripped off again and again. 

Six weeks later you still felt like a lovesick puppy. University and your job made time sparse and relaxation sparser still, but somehow the sadness lingered. You’d been grieving it for nearly as long as it had happened, some weird crossroads where it felt inappropriate to be sad. It was a summer fling, how many had existed since the dawn of time and yet it dug into you like an elusive splinter. 

Mel was another issue entirely. Warm and tender, trying to prop you up when you stopped eating or didn’t keep up with the laundry. Part of you wanted to scream and cry. I’m not who you think I am, your mind shouted, I’m awful and you should hate me like I hate myself. 

Then you’d eat a sausage roll, she’d send you a shitpost and you’d cry in the shower. Selfish as it was, you couldn’t lose both Medardas. 

Sometimes you thought you saw her name pop up on your phone, you’d look each time like a baby falling for a game of peekaboo. Nothing. The last message made your lungs tense every single time. 

 Bacon Crunchy or No?

Crunchy, but still soft. 

Demanding x

That breakfast in bed was the most revisited memory, probably spurred on by how many times you’d read those texts. You wouldn’t eat bacon anymore, flicked it out of your meal deal BLT before realising how counterproductive you’d made your sandwich. Wet mayonnaise and lettuce with half a tomato slice. What a sad life. Your cheeks were damp again and it was hard to breathe.

At some point enough was enough. You were a twenty three year old mooning over a woman over twenty five years your senior. You had a life, you had friends and a dad who called you sometimes. She was not the sun, you did not revolve around her. 

That lasted for about a week, until Mel mentioned going back briefly for her Mum’s birthday. November 9th. You hadn’t known that, wished you still didn’t. Somehow you were in a shopping centre helping her search for a gift. Budget was extensive and so was Mel’s ability to shop. 

What would be a good gift for Ambessa? Rat poison perhaps? 

You saw it or maybe it saw you. Gold, each chain link tiny, making it look almost like falling sunlight. One large crimson ruby hung at the end, metal criss crossing over it in a pretty setting. It would fit almost every outfit she wore. It matched her favourite earrings. It was unique, like her and she didn’t deserve it. 

“That seems perfect,” Your voice croaked, pointing towards the glass cabinet. 

Mel agreed because well, it just was. You lived, slowly and painfully, Rowan Atkinson’s scene from Love Actually. This was your punishment, your karma for your indecisiveness and deceit. Leaving Selfridges (dissociated and bankrupt from a bagel) you allowed yourself to be talked at. That seemed to be happening a lot these days, more sounding board and less person. That seemed to be what you’d lost, your personness, stuck in silk sheets in Surrey. There was no recon mission to be had either, the invitation for birthday celebrations blissfully, brutally not extended to you. 

You heard all about it though, obviously. You weren’t that lucky. Mel and Kino had organised a party, she had pretended to be ever so surprised and you had received fourteen drunk videos at three am. The house was different to how you’d ever seen it, twinkling lights and darker furnishings to herald the stormy winter approaching. Kino was doing the CanCan, offscreen choked laughter making your heart hurt. Each video devolved to make less sense, snapshots of the living room, pretty decoration and discarded champagne. The last one made your world spin, bile eating your throat. 

It was Ambessa, glassy eyed with shimmering makeup and bouncy curls, grinning at the camera with a cupcake in hand. Sitting pretty, as perfect as you’d imagined, was the necklace. 

“How’s your party been, Mum?” Mel’s hiccupped voice. 

“Perfect, Darling,” Ambessa muttered, an easy smile growing. 

“And your gift?” 

“Also perfect, Little wolf,” Her fingers stroked it instinctively, feeling along the ruby. 

“Say thank you to the camera then,” Mel says, impatient and swaying slightly, “She’s the one who helped me find it,” 

The shift was slight, you only noticed because you were looking, her face draining of some joy. 

Tone coy and light she stared directly at the screen, “Ah I see, when you said one of your friends, I didn’t realise you meant her! Who knew she knew me so well?” a criminally long pause, “Thank you, Sweet Girl,” 

The footage stopped, her smirk immortalised.

You hated her. Vile, vindictive little bitch. You burned all but one of your pyjamas sets in the garden, mesmerised by the flames as if their heat could cleanse you. Charred linen smelt like shit and you dumped it in the bin before it became a problem for the neighbours. Lip chewed raw, you curled onto the dining chair you had occupied half an hour ago, looking down at your traitorous phone

Your text response was calmer after that.

                                                            Nice, cute party! Drink some water babe xox

I kissed Jayce

                                                           Oh? 

And Viktor

                                                            OH

Can you call? 

                                                             It’s 4am Mel. 

                                                            Yes

The shrill thrum of Facetime rang throughout your kitchen, ear twitching slightly as you answered. 

“Thank fuck,” Mel sounded both stressed and excited, “This party has been so weird I wish you were here,” 

You didn’t. “Weird cause you tongued your two closest friends? Or weird some other way?”

“Don’t say tongued it’s vile,” She was clearly stumbling down the corridor to her bedroom, “And both, I guess? It’s a long story” 

“Babble away then, babe,” You’d missed this, missed her.

It actually wasn’t that long at all, content wise, Mel was just so drunk she restarted five thousand times. Jayce and Viktor were together, this you knew. Mel would sometimes kiss them both, occasionally more, and she didn’t know what to feel; this was new. Having a conversation about emotional intimacy versus physical with her when she was drunk and your last fuck had been her mother was like a stupid game of Monoply. It took forever, not much was accomplished and she ended up falling asleep just as you were getting to the good bit. 

“Mum’s also been weird,” It was slurred, hair spraying on the pillow, “Nostalgic or something,” 

“Nostalgic?” You didn’t want to talk about her, you didn’t.

“I dunno, think she missed me and Kino,” She coughed, “She’s been more quiet,” 

Quiet. Of course. She didn’t seem quiet when she threw your pet name in your face, but hey what did you know? Follow up questions were useless, Mel’s snores crackling through the phone. 

“Are you sleeping, Little wolf?” 

You were going to throw up, twitching hands launching your phone across the table. Mel’s phone echoed the crashing, drawing Ambessa’s attention. Picking the phone from her daughter’s fingers, she raised a quizzical and then uncertain brow. 

“Night Mel,” You whispered, slamming the end call button. The last noise from her end was that voice calling out your name. 

You didn’t sleep, your only remaining pair of pyjamas mocking you from the laundry basket. 

It washed over you like the tides, again and again, each time inching closer to consuming you. So much energy had been expended to move past this, but you crumbled like a stale biscuit in the face of her teasing, of your name from her mouth. Even now your heart skipped, ached, sang. It wasn’t real, the adoration and attraction she had looked at you with. How could you grapple with that? Alone and surrounded by all the kindness she had gifted you. There was a doubt, tart and strong, in your mind that you would ever matter to anyone ever again. Your clanking alarm clock seemed to agree, burrowing into your fitful dreams and warping to the sound of her laugh.

Mel came back, hungover and a little emotionally unstable which seemed to happen every time she went home. You had tacos on the sofa, sharing a beer and having the same conversation as before, though sober this time. You steered clear of her, focusing on Mel with an intensity that made the girl snort. 

“Back to planet earth then?”

“What?” Lettuce tumbled out, they’d given you a hard shell by accident. 

“I mean this is probably the most you’ve spoken to me since the summer,” 

A flinch, body rejecting the truth, as your lips turned down. 

“I get it, work and stuff,” Mel quickly added, stroking your arm like she would Mina, “Just missed you,” 

“Missed you too,” It choked out, despite your efforts to stay calm, flinging yourself against her and squeezing. 

Fuck Ambessa. It settled in you, a certainty fuelled by the intense turmoil of the past twenty four hours. You loved Mel and you would not be a shit friend anymore. 

Days were lighter after that, your acceptance shifting the colours of your world slightly. Your fancy laptop was a blessing, not a collar, helping you write your thesis without trouble. The coffee shop could have been worse, it was in a beautiful building with a rich history and it meant you could eat branded beans instead of 26p sludge. You’d even managed to save some money for Christmas. You were rising from the ashes of unrequited love, becoming a true optimist. Maybe you might start liking yourself soon. 

Then your dad called. 

“Hey, Peanut,” His gravelly tone was easily decipherable. He was about to disappoint you, again. 

“Hi Dad,” You settled in the armchair, chest deflating, “Everything okay?”

“I’ve got some news,” a rattled sigh, “I’m gonna need to stay on till January,” 

Rough hands ran over your face, “Of course,”

“I’m sorry kid but with the mortgage and-”

“I know, I understand,” 

“Maybe you could go back to that friend’s house?” He said hopefully, “You had such a good time,” 

Not fucking likely. If you told Mel that’s exactly what she’d suggest, so this one was staying quiet, you weren’t that healed. “It’s alright, I think I’d like to be at home, see some familiar faces, could always have dinner with the cousins,” 

“Yeah,” He sniffed, “Yeah okay love,” 

“I love you, I guess I’ll see you in the new year?”

“Of course, and I’ll ring you in the holidays,” He was firm in his intentions, even if it wouldn’t stick, “Love you,”

Christmas alone. Lucky you. 

It took more effort than you’d anticipated to censor the news around Mel. Part of you, small and desperate, wanted to fall into her and cry about it but then you would end up sniffling, sitting in her car on the way to that damned house. The last few weeks of term flew by, deadlines and Christmas parties numbing you out, pushing you into a glitzy, overwhelmed state. Mel was in her element, glittering gold as she wrapped a mountain of gifts, covered all of your kitchen surfaces in icing sugar and screamed George Michael. She was supposed to leave before you, giving you three days of peace in the house before you ended up in rural Derbyshire with nobody but the deer to talk to. 

About an hour before Mel was due to leave you received a phone call from your father and it affirmed for you that the universe, in all its cosmic wonders, had it out for you. 

Your terraced house had a very complex and old heating system, which had apparently died a sudden and dramatic death. Sure, whatever, no problem. Except a new one was going to cost at least ten thousand pounds and couldn’t be installed until January anyway. The neighbours had told him about the sudden flooding, and he had tried to deal with it faster, but being so far away and with so little immediate funds. 

“So it’s fucked,” You groan, “I guess I’ll have to stay here then,”

“I-” Your dad sounded shattered, “We might have to looking at selling, I haven’t got the cash to fix it,” 

“I’ll figure that out Dad,” Tight throat, air raspy, “It’s okay, thanks for calling,” 

“What’s fucked?” Mel said, appearing like a ghost, your shoulders jolting. 

“Eavesdropper,” It was a grumble, “It’s nothing,” 

“It’s clearly not if you’re looking at staying here,” 

Your eyes rolled, frustration bubbling,“House’s heating broke, can’t be fixed till January so I’ll stay here,” 

Mel looked crestfallen, “Oh no,” She embraced you, the hug more loving than you deserved, “What’s your dad going to do? Come up here? He can have my room obviously,” 

“Why would he need that?” You snorted, “He’s staying on the rig for Christmas-” Uh. Oops. 

Brown eyes flared with anger, “What? You didn’t tell me that!”

“I-I” You were at a loss, desperate to avoid what was obviously hurtling your way, “I didn’t wanna be a downer on all the cool plans, I was just gonna relax alone or whatever,” Lame excuse, loser. 

“You’re coming to ours,” Mel said, decided, waving away all of your protests like one would swat a fly. Somehow she was already calling her mother, telling her to expect another guest for Christmas. The stress of heating was the final straw on a decrepit, twitching camel. 

Had you died? Were you in Hell? 

That’s what the Land Rover felt like, speeding through endless countryside as she sang Christmas Wrapping for the ninth time. You felt almost outside your body, about to reunite with a part of yourself you’d allowed to die. Mel had chewed you out for the first hour of the journey about being an idiot, about upsetting her by not just asking to stay. I know it was awesome in the summer, she had whined, you’re not like a burden or anything. 

Rolling up the driveway felt like that moment on a rollercoaster just before the adrenaline floods you. Your stomach turns, you feel the wind and feel how high up you are, seeking an out you know isn’t there. Then the ride drops, hurtles down the track and you’re too overwhelmed to think much of anything at all. Ambessa standing, cashmere jumper and longer curls, against the door waiting to greet you both was your drop. Blank, hot nothingness. 

“Darlings,” She cried, lips as crimson as ever. 

She stepped forward, throwing her arms around both of you and you thought you might die. You hated her. Her smirk showed she could tell, though it wasn’t as firmly fixed as usual. Sunrays, squinting eyes and that smirk as she ate a slice of watermelon. Shut Up.

A small dinner was already ready, a weathered looking Kino dishing up portions. His greeting was warm but distracted. 

“Mum’s had me hauling all the trees into place,” He grumbled, passing you a bowl of stew, “because of course it couldn’t wait until the precious princesses arrived to help,”

Gods you’d missed him. “You think I’m a princess Kino? I’m touched,” 

Mel forced you into your chair, snorting at her brother, “Would you believe this idiot was going to stay at uni all by herself?”

You didn’t feel like an idiot, you felt like a prey animal fleeing one predator to sprint into the den of another. 

Ambessa interjected then, “Yes, what’s this I hear about broken heating?” 

It was an innocent and very valid question from the woman hosting you. She needed to shut the fuck up. “Uh, our terraced house was still using its system from the 60s and it finally died,” You said, instead of telling her the former, “Dad’s on the rig and can’t get anyone to fix it sooner than January,” 

“We’ll have you for the whole festive period then,” Ambessa said, tone calm as she sent you a smile. It was indifferent and kind, in the same way she had been those first days of the summer. It rocked you, eating some of the adrenaline and replacing it with tears that glazed embarrassingly for a second. Long enough for her to see, but with enough control to spare you from Mel. 

 Five weeks of being in Medarda Central, playing happy families, “If that’s okay,”. 

“We’re so happy to have you, Dear,” 

Bitch. “Thank you, Ambessa,” 

That evening was like a dream, stuck behind the screens of a nightmare. Three large christmas trees to decorate, a tradition apparently, with mulled wine and gingerbread. Everything was beautiful, and to your surprise each ‘child’ was given a tree. The larger one in the foyer was put up on November 21st every year by Ambessa, Mel told you, but the Medarda siblings and Mina each got their own tree to decorate once everyone was home. 

You had been given Mina’s with a snort from Ambessa, who was supposedly happy to have someone else take on the ‘lazy demon’s workload’. It felt nice, for a moment, as you stared down at the fluff ball who seemed to have accepted you as a guest. This was a new thing and if you closed your eyes and breathed out of your armpit no memories appeared. You decorated methodically, using some of Mina’s and some spare that had been assembled for you. A perfect evening, with your best friend and her stupid big brother. And their sexy, evil, confusing mother. 

Like you thought, a dream to nightmare pipeline. A trend you saw continuing for the rest of the holiday. It ended with watching The Grinch, something you had never seen. Jim Carrey was unusual and Martha May was disturbingly attractive, but that’s all you really gained, too busy ignoring Ambessa’s joking gaze. Did she think you were crazy? That you wanted to spend this holiday being fucked about by her too? Mel’s head on your shoulder grounded you, saved you from the turbulence of her.

It caught you once, entirely by accident, and your head began to swim. Golden swirls, tender and amused. She looked more beautiful somehow, finally victorious in getting your attention as she raised a brow. Your neck mottled red as anxious teeth crushed against one another. Rough hands stroking your cheek, kissing your sleepy eyelids as you ignored the film that followed Trading Places. This place was haunted and you realised that you were just another ghost. Kino went to bed first and unlike a few months ago, you were determined not to be a straggler. You got your water and tea whilst Mel spoke to her Mum about the upcoming Carol Concert you were supposed to be attending. 

“Night,” You said, voice soft, as she nodded to them. 

“Oh,” Mel said, “Bit early for you, isn’t it?”

“Long day,” A smile, “See you in the morning,” 

“Nice to have you back, well done with the Tree today,” Ambessa’s silky tone drifted, “Sleep well Sweetheart,” 

That was a new one and it caused no reaction at all. Your hand was trembling because the tea was hot, that was all. Your body shook from the exhaustion in the spare room, lip wet and trembling, because the journey was long and you missed your Dad. You could not feel her phantom touches brushing the tears away, it was simply the wind.

Ten days of Christmas festivities passed and it did not get any easier. No matter when you woke, she still somehow had your tea ready for you. You’d hoped initially that it was Rictus, the man you had come to know slightly better than in the warmer months, but alas he hadn’t a clue what you were on about. Those eyes, hypnotic and cruel, still attempted to lure you in each day. Hands lingered, bodies closer than needed as you passed in corridors or sat on the same sofa. 

One day you boiled over, alone in the kitchen with her as she sorted through recipes. 

“Will you knock it off?” 

“Hmm?”

“Don’t hum at me,” You snapped, hands clenching your mug, horror clenching your heart, “T-The touching and the looks, stop it,” 

Ambessa laughed, pushing her glasses onto her head as she fixed you with a look, “Didn’t seem to mind it a couple of months ago, Sweet Girl,” 

“A couple of months ago I was a fool,” A stuttered breath, half stuck and bubbling, “Mel’s my priority, I love her and this fucked up thing would hurt her, so stop it,” 

Ambessa’s look changed into something you couldn’t understand, eyes pensive and face blank. She nodded once, head tilted to scan you. Was it respect? Surely not, she barely saw you as a full person. 

“Okay,” Her tone was measured, “I can work with that,” 

It relieved you, the thick, invisible smog circling overhead finally beginning to clear. You didn't trust her intentions towards you, but you could trust them towards Mel. The tremors and the cries slowed slightly, your sleep troubled but not totally absent. 

Something new formed, something you could just about stomach. It was just as if she was your best friend’s mum, hosting you for the holidays, with jokes and motherly pats. She had never known the taste of your lips, you had never nestled your head between her thighs, never shared an overly fond look over her daughter’s head. It was easier this way, you promised yourself in the dead of night as you tossed from side to side. You’d spent so little time actually in this bed, that now it seemed as foreign to you as the woman who occupied the other. Her eyes still stayed on you from time to time, but it was insignificant now. 

Did you prefer that? Was this better? 

All Ambessa knew was that she did not like this change. Not one bit. She was unsure of how to process you coming back. You were a nice enough girl, an excellent fuck and actually funny to be around. You made Mel happy, which made her happy, but you had gotten a little too attached. She had avoided you since then for that reason, the thoughts of you that drifted through easy to push away. That being said, she missed you sprawled in her bed babbling nonsense as she ruined you. You were a pest, lingering around her thoughts and she was unsure of how to proceed. She seemed to regain one part of you, sarcastic and passionate, at the expense of any and all private access to you. It irked her, though she would not admit it, that you had called it before she had. Guilt sat heavy in her stomach, mixing with something else as she remembered your aggressive devotion to her daughter. Parts of you, buried, now resurfaced for her. How you took your tea, which hand would brush back hair behind your ear, in which order you would put your socks and shoes on. Tiny, minute details. She glanced at you, licking up cream on a hot chocolate and saw images of a similar kind, your pretty crinkled eyes eating an ice cream as you gazed at her across the sunlounger. 

Ambessa Medarda could not wait for you to get the hell out of her house. 

How ironic, considering you finally felt you were flowing into the new rhythm. 

She wasn’t scary, she had no power. Other than the fact that this was, you know, her house. You shared tea, read together, joked and laughed. You only looked at her lips every now and again, a natural thing. You looked at Mel’s lips sometimes. Yeah. Her nicknames only caused nausea, not an actual gag to choke you. Plus you were distracted half the time by Kino and Mel. Frockiling about in London, seeing a show or wandering through museums, it was endless. Somehow you had done more in the first two weeks here than most of the summer, mind frazzled by Christmas joy. The best part was that on December 17th it started to snow and showed no signs of stopping. A true winter wonderland. 

The only other distinct change from the summer was the shiny new vibrator in your bedside drawer. You still had needs, for god sake and the distraction should help. Nothing would satiate the burn like she did, but you tried not to think about that once you realised it was her you pictured to send yourself over the edge. Oops. 

Ambessa, restless and frustrated, strolled down the corridor in the dead of night. Each door zipped past until a grunt startled her into stillness. It was from behind your door and a flare of worry resounded in her at the pained sound. Against her better judgement, her fist rose to knock on the wood when she heard it again. Clearer now, louder. Not pain, her mind roared, it was a cry of pleasure. Pleased little pants and gasps travelled to her ears, turning her thoughts to molten nothingness. She had uncharacteristically avoided sex for the past few weeks, and this was enough for her to tumble over the edge. Leaning against the wall, breath silent, she gulped. This was ridiculous, wrong and crazy and reckless. She was in the hallway for christ’s sake. Still, with chaotic urgency, her hand slipped beneath her trousers as she caressed her neglected clit. 

You lay, legs wide and twitching, pleasuring yourself in bed totally unaware of your desperate audience. Tonight had been tougher on your resilience, her dress was so simple and yet it hugged her in a way that made you think of flowing water. Water led you to thinking of the pool and suddenly you were smacked with images of her naked swimming. It was too good to ignore, already halfway down the hot spiral your body craved, teeth bruising plump lips. Head thrown back, you began to keen and mewl, the toy pushing you into mindlessness, each gentle buzz pulling a whine. 

Ambessa was almost nonsensical, unable to battle for her ironclad control as your noises had her frantically chasing release. You had haunted her for days, flushed cheeks and snide comments, as if nothing had ever happened. You essentially ignored any heat from her and it was maddening. She wanted to fuck you into the mattress you lay on now, the image making her eyes roll slightly. The final straw, shooting her into a shaking climax, was a sudden, bursting whimper of her name from your lips. 

You hadn’t meant to, rocking yourself against this thick rabbit, but the image of her was so clear and you wanted it so bad, craved it. You cried out for her, as you had so many times before. Everything sang, bright and harsh, as you went limp. 

She was much the same, choking her gasps back as her knees shook slightly. Finally some relief, her thoughts able to order themselves slightly. She did not, however, like the form they took. You, temptress and forbidden fruit, carved a home in her head she could not fill with anything else. 

This was a mess. She was a mess. You were a problem. 

Ambessa found herself bundling up, rambling at Rictus about almost everything as she prepared to check the lake, to see if it was ready for skating. He took it well, he was trusted for a reason. There was a merry glint in those eyes, a knowing of his Mistress. Something was wrong, was grating on her and he believed that something had a name and sparkly, open eyes. 

“Need anything else?” Rictus asked, passing her the mug of coffee so she could finish it, “I’ll sort out whatever part of your wardrobe Mina has mutilated and then start wrapping the kids gifts,” 

“Fantastic,” Distracted, dismissive, till her shoulders tensed, “Did you get anything for her?” 

He remained neutral, “Did you want me to?” 

A pregnant pause, stormy eyes, “I-Uh yes, I’ll send you a list,” 

As if her house had become a prison, she smacked into you just as she wandered outside. You stood, fluffy coat and thick scarf, staring mystified at the white landscape.

“I’m sorry,” It was a squeak, mind haunted by your enjoyment last night. 

“No, no,” She said, “That was my fault,” 

“What,” A swallow, as you met her eyes with passiveness, “Where are you off to?”

“The lake,” She grunted, “See if it’s ready,” 

“Ready?” 

“For skating,” 

Your mind exploded with excitement, never having even considered this as a possibility, lips betraying you, “Oh my god really, can I come?”

Your childlike wonder clawed at her lungs, posture softening, smile tugged forward unbidden, “If you’re careful, and do as I say,” 

That was how you’d ended up watching Ambessa Medarda check this huge lake with military precision. You hadn’t visited it much in the summer, it was a fifteen minute walk through the woods so in the heat the pool was the obvious preference. Now though? It was a magical, entrancing grove that you giddy with joy. It was almost like it didn’t matter that it was her, that this was the longest you’d spent alone since August. 

“Well,” Ambessa called, “Looks perfect to me,” 

To your surprise, she removed two pairs of skates from her bag and chucked one at you, leaning against a large Yew tree to put her own on. 

You didn’t know she knew to bring a second pair and it flared suspicion in you, “Why do you have these?” 

“They’re Mel’s, Sweetheart,” She answered, amusement tickling her cheeks, “Didn’t realise they were still in there, you’re the same shoe size,” 

Oh. Okay. That still didn’t solve the issue that you had no idea how to skate, and you said as much. 

Ambessa could feel, as intimately as the danger of an oncoming bullet, that this would not end well. The offer left her lips all the same. She could teach you, it was Christmas tradition and Mel would end up dragging you here the second she found out it was ready. 

She was a good teacher, patient and calm, with a habit of everexcessive praise and degradation intermingling. You were being a twat when gaining momentum, but did turning very well Darling. It felt unreal, distant from the dull ache she had placed in your heart, as acceptance slotted further into your bones. 

Soaring like an injured bird, she watched you. Round and round you moved, grace slow to arrive but firm in staying, as her eyes stung. She couldn’t understand why, breath quick, as she coughed into gloved hands. The pressure built the more you moved and Ambessa nibbled her lip in contemplation. 

“Oh my god, it’s ready,” Kino’s loud shriek saved his mother from further emotional introspection, “MEL. MEL. Come Skate,” 

The Medarda siblings joined you, both skilled and dangerously competitive, forcing Ambessa to tug you left and right across the ice to avoid their thundering. 

In short, it was the best day yet and that night you could sleep without a cry or an orgasm to force you. Christmas might actually be salvageable. 

Another party. You’d joked to Mel that she really was the perfect upper class stereotype with a pool and horses you had avoided out of immense fear, with all her time spent getting drunk and talking about all the things she’d done. Mel was a bit offended, which made your assessment all the funnier, gold lips pouting. This one was very intimate, you’d know everyone there and it was more just a chance to see everyone before Christmas Day.It was just the Medardas and you on the big day, their first year having another person due to Ambessa’s usual strictness that it was only family. That was like a lobster slap to the face, making you feel special and like a burden all at once. 

Somehow you were crucial in planning yet again, Mel too busy seeing old friends before they went away and Kino refusing to engage. He’d done his bit for the year with Ambessa’s birthday, he stubbornly replied, hiding himself away in the library with Mina. 

That was how you found yourself in the kitchen, at the breakfast table expending half your energy to a Chess Game with Rictus and the other to being a food tester. 

“Don’t like cranberry sauce,” You grimaced at her offering, Rook takes Knight “That one’s for him,” 

“I don’t either,” Bishop takes Rook, his gruff smile making you laugh in kind. 

“What’s the point of you then?” Ambessa snapped, eating the canape herself. 

“Idle decoration?” “Part of the furniture?” You responded the same time as Rictus, giggles hidden by an insincere hand.

The three of you powered through the Everest of washing up she had created, humming to the radio and thinking up the worst Christmas cracker jokes we’d heard over the years. You were on drying duty initially, till it proved you hadn’t got a clue where anything lived. 

“Didn’t you live here for three months?” He mocked, reordering the baking trays. 

“She didn’t cook once in that time,” Ambessa sighed, “Some people just take and take and take,” 

It was a joke, but it made you angry and the plate hit the water with more force than you could control. Soapy, lukewarm water crashed against both you and Ambessa, leaving you incredulous and her as still as a statue. 

“Well,” Rictus said, warm presence cutting through the tension, “Off you both go to change, it’s enough for me to finish alone anyway,” 

You both rushed down the corridor, and you felt yourself lurch as something reminiscent of the echo of an apology left her lips. You waved it away, eyes stinging as you slammed the door and curled under the duvet. 

Everything was fine. Everything was good. You were friends now and you didn’t love her at all and you weren’t fuelled most by her laugh, her approval, her existence. You fell asleep with a wet stomach, melancholic music echoing in your head as you ended up back on that dreamlike lake. 

The day arrived, December 22nd and you felt weird nauseous butterflies. Things had backtracked a bit since the washing up, but you were determined to drag yourself forward. 

Everything shone, the powerhouse of a small country fuelling the lights and decorations as Mel sat crisscrossed on her bed, painting you like one of her canvases. 

“This feels like a lot,” You said, yawning, “Everyone coming already knows what I look like,” 

She smacked your arm lightly, “It’s Christmas, live a little,” 

“I’m already living a lot thank you, you’ve got me in heels and spanx,” You flicked the snap to emphasise your point, moving your lips to hinder her lipstick application. 

“Brat,” She gripped your chin, keeping you steady as her face lit up, “There you look like an angel now,” 

You did, Your hair was shiny and curled, your face a painted marvel of Mel’s imagination and one of her white and gold dresses clung to you, highlighting everything you had ever been blessed with. Your eyes burned. A click smashed through your thoughts, the film camera flash capturing you forever, awestruck at yourself and grateful for your best friend. 

Joy came easy here, her presence diluted by people you had come to love, as you slipped through the small crowd, challenging Viktor to a sober chess rematch. You didn’t win, but neither did he, and with a stalemate reached you gobbled up Ambessa’s admittedly perfect food parcels. Rictus seemed to circle back to you more often than anyone else, smirk on his face, a silent comradery. 

The record player was soothing, champagne and eggnog mixing to make an odd sensation in your stomach as Kino twirled you around. 

“I’m glad Mel has you,” He mutters against your ear, “She’s needed a friend to ground her,”

Everything spun weirdly, the compliment ironic as you nodded roughly, “I love her, she’s the best, and hey, you’re not too bad either,”

He laughed, twirling you a final time, “Always the charmer, Princess,” 

Chaos devolved, as it always did with this group of friends, the snow too tempting a siren. You’d actually been having a coherent conversation with Ambessa and Cassandra Kiramman about your thesis progress, eyes only slightly hazy with booze, when you were hauled away by Jayce and VI. A snowball fight on the patio had erupted, bodies numb to the cold as their skin was heated by alcohol, violent throws and crashing dodges. No true adult participated, though some watched fondly, as Rictus recorded the whole thing on an old camcorder, another Medarda tradition apparently. 

Ambessa trailed the scene, heart warm at the sight. She loved her children, loved the people they had become even if sometimes they seemed alien to her, more gentle and considerate than she considered possible. Their friends were a great reflection of them, loud and eclectic, with the loyalty of a wolf pack. You flitted about like a golden mote of light, drawing her eye more than she wished. That dress was sinful, you filled it in a way that made her ache, makeup turning your eyes into deep pools in wish she lost her senses. She knew nothing about your thesis, though Cassandra seemed to have continued that conversation with her as you were dragged away. This was becoming impractical, her body not her own. She retreated to the kitchen under the pretense of refills. 

You bowed out early, freezing your tits off was fun until it wasn’t and you were less agile than the others. Beelinging for the kitchen, desperate for tea and to choke down more canapes, your cold skin smashed against a warm, firm wall. 

She was beautiful tonight, as always. Resplendent and controlling, wielding her space perfectly. Braids and curls intermingled to frame her angular face, statement birthday necklace in place with matching earrings, as long lashes fluttered. It was the most stuck you’d felt since coming back to the house, an aura so similar to that first barbeque, that you’d almost slipped and made an inappropriate joke. 

Your damp, snow soaked curls stuck your face as you stood inches from her, the kitchen silent save for your mingled breath. 

“Good party,” You crooked, frozen in face. 

“Yes,” She responded in kind, “A success I think,” 

“I-I just wanted another salmon tart thing,” 

She placed one in your hand, eyes widening, as she gripped your bare shoulder “You’re freezing,  Sweet girl,” 

Sweet Girl the tipsy, happy haze called. You nodded, “Was in the snow,”

She could warm you up, her sly and corrupted mind cried, thoughts blank as your innocent, devil eyes captured her body and perhaps even soul. She moved thoughtlessly, a gentle ringed hand tilting your chin as her dark lips crushed against yours. 

Euphoria. You were in heaven, succumbing hungrily to the kiss, lungs starved of oxygen for four months. No logic here, no reason or doubt. Only her firm guiding embrace, and warm tongue. Ambessa Medarda was an evil, perfect woman and you could not escape her. 

Dizzy, drunk in more ways than one, you pushed her off gently. It took everything in you, salmon tart crushed to nothing on the ground as you gulped. 

Her inability to treat you a person was not why you’d stopped this, though if you respected yourself it should have been, it was because of Mel. 

“This isnt-” 

“Oh my fucking god,” It was shrill, whispered and bitter, your heart dropping out of your ass, ”No, you haven’t done this to me Mum, not again,”

Speak of the devil.

[theshinazugawaslut]

𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹 𝑫𝑨𝒀 #𝟐 — 💀🎃 "𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 & 𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉" 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒌𝒊 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 / 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒙

tw/cw: dubious consent, mentions of attempting suicide

Don't go, don't go, don't go, don't go.

It's the first thing you had learned as a young bumbling girl, back when you'd clutch onto your mother's cold hand tightly and ask in a high, squealing voice about the woods you had found out were strictly forbidden.

"Don't go in there," your mother had said in a hushed tone, "there are awful people in there; ones who will offer you ruby-red apples with the magick of eternity's youth, but you mustn't ever take them, my baby, and if you even manage to get away from the faeries and witches and wolves, then you will reach the ocean infested with all sorts of monsters. You don't wish to be eaten by a half-bird half-fish now, would you?"

So you'd always been wary of the forest, as a little girl to a lady, living a respectful life at the village.

You spent days embroidering satin gowns with arcipluvian birds and cutting sweetheart necklines with a healer's steady hand and stitching diamond-encrusted bodices into tulle skirts; all the uninteresting things that come with being a dressmaker's daughter.

Though tonight, you'd long abandoned the box of jewels and the slim needle that had become a tender muscle in your mind, left them by the melting candle on your bedside.

Your shoulders donned a blood-red cloak made of velvet, your gown glittering under the night sky; you'd stitched it yourself from the spare fabric of a rich woman who often visited your family's little shop in the village. It was a lovely thing and it was your most prized possession: the bodice was nice and fitted, ivory in colour with rose and aureate embellishments, low and tight so that the clear spheres of your breast were nipped with cold; you'd made your skirts wonderfully layered also — a swelling blood red silk underskirt covered with a sheer, glittering gold fabric, with two overskirts in damask patterns, sable and cream and sun-spun.

When you had sewn it, you'd left it hanging in your sparse wardrobe in hopes to wear it on your wedding day.

Now, all that was left was to wear it tonight and walk straight into death; the tangerine glow of the lantern held up in your dainty fingers, lighting the path to the angel of death.

You had never thought your mother would arrange your marriage to the worst man in the village. Your beauty was sought by every boy and man of the village, and you'd hoped your mother would match you to the sweet butcher's boy across the street.

Keigo, his name is; a boy with hair spun off golden sunflowers and eyes that glitter like topaz under moonshine, sharp as a hawk. He gave you candied cherries once, the tart fruit dipped in hardened sugar water, and he'd smiled so shyly after.

Instead, your mother betrothed you to Touya, the eldest son of the village chief. You had wanted to cry as the man's intense, electric-blue eyes blazed flames into your skin as your mother and his father discussed the engagement.

Everyone knew of Touya, the enigmatic eldest son covered in gnarly, mulberry scars and strange silver rings and snow-white hair, rumours circled like wisps of smoke that he had been set alight with fire by a witch as a young boy. Worse, rumours said that the young man dabbled in dark magic.

You wouldn't marry a man like that, which is why you'll die.

In the forest.

(Don't go.)

Your lantern only illuminates the trees in front of you, just a few steps away into certain death. Webs shimmer like meshed steel in front of you as you take a ginger step inside, the slow crunch of a leaf below your boots is the only indicator something exists inside.

Almost immediately inside the forest, something shifts.

You can't tell what it is but it's there.

Red.

Your eyes become deer-like, large and frightened, and you turn around, wanting to head back but you find that the path back... isn't there, just endless forbidden forest.

That can't be.

Something gets stuck in your throat from panic, like a globe of cloth that makes your throat dry.

You keep walking, your legs a lot heavier now, something akin to logs.

The world around you seems to shift, a sepulchre silence heavier than the cloak on your shoulders. The trees held the macabre stench of blood, speckles of fungied moss glistening like wet witch dust on its mottled bark; the branches twist toward the sky like dark, skeletal fingers, reaching for the stars that winked down from a velvet expanse.

The moon is hideous tonight.

A whispering breath, no, a breeze, shifts through the lines of the forest and your body. It sounds old, perhaps a little sad. It beckons you.

In the back of your head, you can hear the sound of children singing.

Ring-a, ring-a rosies-

There's a beat of a drum, somewhere deep in the darkness where your lantern's weak light can't reach. A drum, a drum- A beating heart.

a pocket full of-

Enchantment twists and coils around you like a serpent, why are your eyes so-?

posies!

The phantasmal gas becomes the damp breath of the forest.

Shadows dance at the corners of your vision.

Your senses begin to reel, ethereal and monstrous and real suddenly not all the same.

A tissue! A tissue!

Flickering shapes form and die behind the trees; those shapes try to reach hands towards you, scintillating and fading.

The sound of a child wailing echoes throughout the forest, haunting the glades, and pouring into some desolate space elsewhere.

When did you start crying? Why are you running?

Someone is trying to hush you, the sound a hollow echoing, more like the ballad of a crumbling cathedral, like fingers of shadow snuffing out the lights.

Why did you go?

Don't go.

We all-

Arthritic brambles catch on your dress for a moment, gnarled with age, snapping like bones as your boots slap through the sounds of the night.

Something spidery slips into your mind, nails sinking deep into the goo of your brain. The distorted image of your parents flashes before your eyes, the grotesque form of the sun-haired boy, the sweetness of electric-blue eyes.

Time loses meaning; minutes stretch into hours as you drift between consciousness and the realm of the lost. In this state, the boundaries of your existence waver like the edges of a dream, fraying like the gossamer threads in your gown.

Fall-

The night sky above transforms into a kaleidescope, the stars becoming blurs of light, something sinister flashing in front of your pupils instead.

In that one moment, you live hundreds of lifetimes, the beat of the drum getting louder, the singing even more so. You see it all: flowery childhoods and fantasies of a lover and children with his blue eyes and your tears at his funeral-

Down!

All you can do is shriek as you fall, dress dirtying.

It's silent again.

You look up and you freeze.

A deep pool of glittering, gemstone-blue expanding here, a stream behind it, most likely leading to the seas. It's stunning; glimmering like star gleam, burbling and thrumming like a child blowing bubbles into a cup. It lights up the rest of the forest around you, ripples reflecting across tree bark.

You reach out a hand just to touch, fingertips trembling just about to touch the surface.

A hand encloses around your wrist.

You don't have it in you to shriek a second time as blood-curdling eyes meet yours.

His eyes are red. Vivid, vibrant, violent.

He's simmering with cruel intent, volcanic and about erupt, but he's strangely calm, something hypnotic in his gaze and bluish hair falling in front of his ashy face.

The hand around your wrist is gentle. Thick, long fingers, and a broad, heavy palm; made to destroy, you don't doubt his touch is decaying.

He's half-submerged in water, the upper half of his body all sinewy muscle and the lower half... beneath the blue water, you think you see black swishing around; pulsating like a jellyfish.

"...A human," he murmurs with a heavy tongue, and you can see the gills flare . "So pretty."

Then everything about him changes, that eerie calmness you had caught before disappears as he smiles at the way your mind screams, your eyes bloodshot and terrified.

There;s something rotten in the way he quirks his lips up.

His teeth have the same glint as blood-drenched bones, like flesh ripped out of a body, like hot red swallowing you whole.

"Why are you here, little girl?" he asks, hissing through calcite.

The hand around your delicate wrist tightens.

Run.

Don't.

"I- I- I-" you stammer uselessly. "I- No, I-"

"Shh, 's okay." His other clawed hand comes to touch the plump of your cheek, talons gently tracing soothing patterns. "You don't have to... say a word."

His voice is sultry, soft... It's almost mesmerising.

The fingers on your wrist dance to the back of your hand as he traces the veins there, as if he wants to rip them out and sew himself a tail from them.

He entwines your hands together tenderly.

"Such hardworking hands," he coos, eyes taking in the sight of all the pricks from needling away at dresses. "You need to unwind." His eyes flicker to yours and he gives a half-smile half-smirk, almost genuine. "I can help with that."

His grin is lopsided, those red eyes glimmer, the incandescence of them illusory. "You want to...?"

Your vision becomes hazy, blurring like it did earlier, only this time it's much more relaxing. Like sleep spindles wrapping around your sore joints.

"You missed me, right? You came here all the way to see me, 'm honoured," he murmurs, mouth against your knuckles before pulling back just a little. Another flow. "You came here to see me, right?"

You can't remember now.

Why... did you...?

Why do you feel so disoriented?

"You're the sweetest, you know." The large, gentle hand on your cheek moves to the back of your head, sinking into your hair and bringing you closer to his mouth. You try and shake your head to fight away the warm haze. It's useless. "I've been feeling hungr- Lonely, for so long."

Both his hands cup your jaw now, thumbs caressing the lines he can find on you.

"You're lonely too, right...?" he murmurs and you find yourself nodding along, the gills on his neck flare. "It'd be nice if... you'd join me, here, in the waters." His voice is a whisper now, his mouth inching closer. "I bet you'd like it. My voice is prettier below as well, do you want to hear?"

You blink, frazzled.

The fingers on your face dig in a little harder.

"It'd be nice, you know, listening to beautiful songs with me," he says, "I just adore singing, especially at deaths, it's why everyone calls me Shigaraki. I bet you have a beautiful name, too."

But you don't say it, all you can hear is his name on repeat, like sea froth and foam on the red tip of your tongue.

"Beautiful girls like you deserve pleasure, you know...?" he whispers. "Do you want to...?"

You don't know why you nod.

But he kisses you. It's cold and his teeth gnash against yours, something in it is desperate as his claws make quick work of ruining your beloved dress.

Whatever he does, it keep the oxygen in your lung as he hauls you into the glowing pool that has become duller below it.

He's gorgeous in the water, in all his tentacled glory, and his eyes are burning red to keep the magick of remaining docile on you.

His lower half is the most bizarre thing you'd ever seen: blacker than squid ink at midnight, obsidian veins creeping up on abdomen and then his lower half splitting into eight meaty tentacles.

He grabs you by the throat this time, kissing you with his forked tongue, fangs nipping into the fat of your gasping bottom lip, the other hand holding your head.

You're entirely nude; soft legs floating in the water, virgin cunt exposed, the plump of your ass glimmering. He pulls back, grinning like a warping shadow as his hands touch your swollen breasts.

It all happens at once.

A slimy tentacle wraps around your leg, the other twinning the action, suckling onto your shins and knees and thighs, and he spreads you apart like a starfish, uncaring for how your hips almost shatter from the pressure.

Another tentacles winds itself like a gutless animal around your stomach and squeezes tight enough that all you'd eaten comes gurgling out in a cloud of yellow. The tentacle is large enough to sheathe around your tits, the suckers across the tentacles are like reverberating mouths on your nipples. Within seconds, your nipples are raw and bitten, expanding to twice their size obsenely.

Shigaraki grins as you let out a strangled moan before he shoves a bulky tentacle in your mouth causing your eyes to almost pop out your skull as it goes down into your thoat so that it almost explodes from expanding to fit the thing.

It's gorgeous how sweetly you let him thrust the throbbing tentacle in and out, even sweeter how you scream around it as he doubles down on your sugary pussy and ass.

It hurts so much you can't even feel it inside your stomach, the tentacle on your breasts moving up to squeeze at your throat.

Your stomach convulses from the gruesome size of him, hammering into your womb like a savage barbarian in a brothel. You catch sight of the merman through your tears; his eyes have rolled to the back of his head, mouth hanging open in a vulgar moan, and he was right, he does sound prettier under water.

Your blood is clear in the water as he fucks you, tentacles and sucker clamping and sucking and thrusting on the inside and out.

You're going to die like this, with this monster making you the prettiest human cumdump-

The flames of dark magic suddenly bleed into the waters, severing the tentacles of your captor, the spell breaking and you screech, watching as the monster flails about, blood gushing and staining the pool red as the cut tentacles float.

All you feel is unfamiliar hands holding onto you and swimming out of the waters.

The last thing you remember seeing is electric-blue eyes.

[huntershoe]

Back to you

Hunter x Jedi!reader

Spoilers for the bad batch season 3 :)

Summary: After a long time, you're finally reunited with your family and your lover.

Warning: Canon violence, Mention of mental and physical torture, slight depressing state, hurt/comfort. Fluff!

A/N: Let me know if anyone would like part two. I was planning on making it spicy ;}

Word count: 2.4k

Part two

It's been months since you got a distress signal from one of your fellow surviving Jedi. Months since you managed to rescue your Jedi friend but sacrifice your own freedom. Months since you've seen your family and your lover.

The last thing you remember from when you were still with the batch was when you were all on Pabu, helping the people restore the beautiful ocean city while you were waiting to get any word from Echo as he helped Rex.

When the only thing missing was Crosshair.

You got the distress signal the same day Echo said he would visit. You knew you couldn't wait for your friend to visit, so with a tight hug, a long and loving kiss and a promise to return safely and quickly, you set the course for your Jedi friend.

Unfortunately, your plan wasn't Vader proof and you ended up captured, switching your place with your friend who managed to escape. You waited for your end, silently apologizing to Hunter and your family, but it never came. Instead, Darth Vader decided you would make a great addition to the imperial inquisitors, so they tried to break you, in every possible way.

For months, they tortured you mentally and physically, leaving you crying and barely alive at the end of every day. But you never broke, no matter what they did to you, you didn't break. There were times when it came close, but thinking of your batch and Hunter gave you strength to fight on.

So when the first opportunity to escape came, you took it. Doing everything in you capacity, even if it meant you'd have to tap into the dark side of the force. Your body had been weakened in the past months, your skin now covered in scars but that didn't stop you and you managed to escape, hijacking an imperial ship and running.

It seemed that even the force was on your side once you coincidentally run into Echo, Rex and the newly forming Clone resistance. But all your happiness disappeared once Echo informed you of the loss they suffered almost immediately you were gone. All those months, just the idea of coming back to your family and how everything would be perfect once again. Everything fell apart and you felt like you were once again in that cold prison cell, waiting for the inquisitors to torture you again. You were falling into the dark abyss, ashamed to even show yourself to Hunter and Wrecker.

It wasn't until Echo came looking for you, four days later. His body radiating happy energy as he practically jumped on you, hugging you and telling you that both Omega and Crosshair managed to escape and were now safely with Hunter and Wrecker on Pabu.

That made you hyperactive, filling you with energy and will to live and both you and Echo were in the ship only few hours later, crossing the galaxy to get back to your family once again.

Three days later you finally made it to Pabu, docking the ship at the top of the city. But while waiting for the ship to touch the ground in a matter of those seconds, your mind betrayed you. Suddenly all you wanted to do was to hide in the corner and dissappear, all those happy thoughts dissappeard, instead being replaced with dark and hateful thoughts. You imagined how Hunter must hate you now that you only returned once everything was alright again. How you dissappeard when they needed you the most. Maybe he's even blaming you for everything bad that happened to his family. Or maybe Omega's the one who hates you now, maybe she thinks that you betrayed them, leaving your family to help someone else.

Your whole body was shaking and you felt like you would faint and when the ramp finally began to descend and the sun shined on your face, Echo had to gently grab you because you swayed like a fragile flower in the wind.

Both you and Echo managed to take a few steps down the ramp before you heard a loud yell. Omega screamed yours and Echo's name, sprinting full speed at you, making you react the same. You yelled her name and she jumped in your arms as you quickly prepared to catch her, hugging her close to you as you began crying, peppering her face with kisses and petting her hair. You managed to crouch with Omega in front of you as you grabbed her cheeks and looked at her more closely, checking for any injuries as she cried telling you how much she missed you.

But as soon as Omegas eyes fell on your face her expression fell as well.

"What happened to your face!" Big tears began rolling down her cheeks as she looked at you. Similar to your body, your face was now littered with both small and big scars, some more visible than the others.

It's been months since you've seen Omega, the young female clone that had unexpectedly entered your life and become like a daughter to you. And after so long, you didn't want your scars to be the first thing you talk about, it was too dark subject to address in the first moments of reunion. So you moved your hands up to her hair, trying to change the subject to something happier.

"Look at your hair! It's grown so much!" You laughed through your tears as you played with the little girl's hair.

"I know, now you can finally braid my hair!" The young girl knew what your were trying to do and played along giggling as she mirrored your hands movements and played with your hair.

You were just about to respond when you both got interrupted by someone whispering your name. Your head snapped behind Omega, falling on a frozen figure, Hunter.

Your body went rigid, completely frozen in time when your eyes meet with his golden ones. Omegas eyes followed yours and once she saw Hunter standing there silently watching, she hugged you one last time before slowly removing herself from you and running towards waiting Echo.

Now that Omega was no longer in front of you, you stood up slowly, your eyes never leaving his as he watched your every move like he couldn't believe you were really there.

Your hands began shaking again and you grabbed your sleeves to try and stop them but to no avail.

"Hunter?"

You whispered back to him, taking a small step towards him. He said nothing, but his body moved and he was by you in the next second, his hands enveloping your body as his own crashed against yours. He squeezed you almost as hard as he could, fearing that if he wouldn't, you would've disappeared again. Hunter buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent as your hands slowly stopped shaking and you moved them up into his hair. Your forehead fell on his shoulder as you finally closed your eyes, taking in his warm presence. You both stood there for a long minute, not moving as you both tried to soak in each other's warmth.

You felt Hunter deeply inhale once again, his breath tickling your neck, before his lips pressed against the same spot and he kissed you. Repeating the movement kissing up your neck, slowly coming to your face as his hands moved up to your neck, and his thumbs landed on your cheeks as his eyes found yours again. Hunter breathed out your name again, his face so close to yours.

"I thought I lost you..." His normally smoky voice sounded broken, quiet, like he was worried he would scare you away if he'd talk any louder. His own hands began to shake slightly as he gently turned your face around, his eyes jumping from scar to scar.

"Hunter, I'm so sorry. I tried to get back to you, I really did but they-" You tried explaining yourself as his eyes found yours again.

"When your ship returned I thought to myself at least I got one of my girls back...but then only General Prima came out and she could barely look me in the eyes to tell me what happened..." Hunter let out a sigh as his thumb traced the scar across your lips.

"...I thought I lost you and I couldn't bare to even think of what they're doing to you...I tried get you back every day, you and Omega..." He went on slowly and quietly, his other thumb tracing the scar across your eye.

"I'm so sorry Hunter-" You tried to apologise again but he interrupted you again with his thumb on your lips.

"Just...just promise me to never leave me again...I...I can't live without you." Hunter whispered as one tear left his eye and you moved your hand to his cheek, brushing it away as he leaned into your touch.

"I promise Hunter, never again." You nodded your head as you promised him, your own tears escaping you again and you moved your head, leaning your forehead against his.

Hunter let out a gentle puff of air, making your lips tingle as the air hit them. His own lips ghosting over yours as he whispered. "Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum ner ka'ra."

A small smile appeared on your lips and you gently nodded. "Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum ner ashi dul."

You responded and finally moved, pressing your lips against his into a long and loving kiss.

Hunter's hands moved back down to your waist and he pulled you closer again as his kiss turned more desperate.

Your own hands moved around his neck as you pulled yourself impossibly closer, a small sound escaping you as Hunters hand squeezed your hip and he took the chance to deepen the kiss. His tongue prodded against your lips as he entered your mouth in almost like urgent matter.

You let him take the reins and followed his tempo, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you again.

"Okay, you can continue doing that later! Now it's my turn!" You heard Wrecker before another set of arms snaked around you and Hunter, squeezing you even further and lifting you in the air. Both you and Hunter gasped, breaking the kiss to look at the gentle giant as he hugged you, leaning his head on your shoulders. You chuckled, grinning and squeezing one arm out and moving it to gently pat Wreckers head. "I missed you too Wrecker." Even Hunter managed a chuckle as he heard his brother sniffle quietly.

"We're never splitting ever again." Wrecker decided as he slowly put them down and brushed the tears from his eyes away. "Agreed." You nod, grabbing the giant clone's hand and squeezing it.

"What, no hug for me?" Crosshair's sly snake like voice asked as he came closer and crossed his arms in front of his chest an amused frown on his face. Your head turned in his direction and a wide smile grew on your lips and you gently let go of Wrecker and moved around Hunter, letting your hands to drag across his chest as you stepped closer to his youngest brother. "Crosshair!" You grinned and quickly moved closer to him, enveloping him into a big hug. Your movement surprised him greatly as he was expecting a glare and a witty remark instead you hugged him.

His arms were awkwardly waiting at his sides, debating if he should hug you back or push you away. Alas, you were the only one that hugged him so far and he'd be lying to himself if he'd say he didn't need a hug. So he let his arms slowly sneak around your body and he hugged you back, silently laying his head on top of yours.

"I'm glad you're back with us again." You whispered just loud enough for him to hear and you felt his breath hitch.

He slowly let go of you and stepped back a little, watching the scars across your face.

"Come on, you have to meet Batcher!" Omega gasped, grabbing your hand out of nowhere and pulling you towards what looked to be a  excited Lurca hound, running around and chasing Moon-yos. You chuckled at the enthusiasm of the little girl and looked back behind you to your lover and the rest of your family, only to see Hunter slightly glaring at Crosshair and Echo rolling his eyes and pushing the former Sergeant, encouraging him to move, while Wrecker only laughed and followed closely.

Omega managed to introduce you to the lively hound, telling you how she helped her and how they bonded over the time as they managed to survive the empire. Batcher seemed to be the perfect energetic pet for Omega as they began playing together, almost forgetting everyone else that was watching them.

You felt a warm hand on the small of your back and a moment later a warm body pressed against your side as Hunter lowered his head to whisper in your ear. "Come on, you must be starving." He pressed a delicate kiss to your forehead as you turned your head to look at him. "A little, yeah." You confirmed and Hunter motioned with his head to his brothers, before gently pushing you towards the house reserved for the batch.

Hunter whistled, making Omegas and Batchers heads turn, motioning them to follow too.

The shining sun had slowly began to descend as they sat down around the table after they put on some food. They snacked on the delicious fruits, talking about everything, just like they did in the old days, while they watched Omega and Batcher play.

The moment felt perfect, besides the one empty chair, remaining everyone that they will never be complete again. Everything else felt normal, Crosshair's witty remarks, Wrecker's compliments to the food, Echo trying to talk about another one of his missions and Hunter silently trying to listen to everyone as his hand slowly fell on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze to reassure you and himself that this moment is in fact real.

Translation:

Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum - Mandalorian way of saying "I love you"

Ner ka'ra - My star

Ner ashi dul - My other half

[reginadeltrash]

Since I've had some free time I would like to present you a new little AU that I affectionately call 'Percy Jackson!Athena is Epic!Athena with brain damage'.

The idea is simple, Zeus' real reason to strike down Athena, during god games was that he's scared, let's remember that there's a prophecy about the child of him and Metis dethroning him, and he always assumed it was gonna be a son, because obviously, it was his father who dethroned his grandfather, and it was him who dethroned his father.

But now he's starting to realise that the prophecy never said 'son', it said 'child', and Athena just demonstrated that she's successfully able to get people on her side, both people that generally like her like Hephaestus, but more dangerous, people that usually don't like her like Aphrodite and Hera.

This is dangerous, so for the first time Athena isn't his favourite little girl, she's a threat to his throne and so he strikes her down to reprogram her; this all started because she met that mortal, she was so perfect and emotionless before, so he's gonna make sure that she never really remembers Odysseus.

But doing it immediately is dangerous, the guy is still alive, he may upset the scheme, so he waits and when both Odysseus and his son die he starts subtly gaslighting Athena, also in this version Zeus is the one who wrote the Odyssey to make Odysseus look a lot worse, and also to make himself look better (he never make the Ody decide between him and the crew and he immediately says yes to his baby girl when she asks him to free him, also he omits the argument in My Goodbye, he just makes it seem like Ody and Athena were never that close to begin with)

He also gets Hera on the plan, he tricks her saying that they have to tarnish Odysseus' memory or else the poor little owlet is gonna be devastated and so non-useful, remember how useless she was after Pallas, glancing at the void for hours.

So, yeah, Hera is the reason Odysseus so blatantly cheats in this universe's version of the Odyssey, because that's the worst thing someone can do in her eyes.

So with the constant gaslighting and the lightnings that are still buzzing inside of her, no matter how much Apollo tries to help, Athena quickly becomes a shell of herself, she reverts to being very lonely, harsh and all together like we meet her in the Percy Jackson's series.

Zeus even agrees to cleanse her scars, just because she was such a good little girl and Athena doesn't even know anymore why she had those scars in the first place.

She tries to fill this void that she has, but doesn't know what it is (a friend, the answer is a friend) but misinterpreting that she believes that it's a romantic connection cause it's basically what everyone around her is doing, thus her mind's babies.

And then, suddenly, after the trial of Apollo, the god of the sun insists that everyone else spends at least a little time with their children, Athena makes sure to do everything in private, she can tolerate a child at a time, nothing more.

And so the moment to go to Annabeth arrives and honestly Athena was sure the Poseidon boy was gonna be there too, they're a bit guarded at first, but she promises she comes in peace, she talks with Annabeth, normal deadbeat mother and daughter stuff (How is school? And your boyfriend? Still like sculpture, sorry it was architecture?)

And then Percy just casually arrives with his baby sister Estelle and he's like 'Annabeth can you hold her for a sec? I need to call my mom for something very important and I don't want her near when a monster inevitably attacks!'

And her daughter laughs, shaking her head 'C'mon, Seaweed brain, I'm sure that the important thing is literally just you wanting waffles'

And Percy laughs like a dork and hands her the baby.

And for a moment Athena is sure that she saw this scene somehow and for a single moment she's in Ancient Greece again, seeing Penelope and Odysseus joke with each other with baby Telemachus being passed around, and for only a little moment she wonders how she knows so much about it, she was merely an acquaintance to the Ithaca royal family, wasn't she?

So yeah, this is the idea, if you have questions I beg you let me know, it would make me the happiest girl, because I have too many ideas!

[magics-neptunes-things]

Ready, Aim, Shoot (2)

Hi guys !

I hope you are fine. I’m still struggling with writer’s block but I tried some things to get over it, so here is my new creation.

It’s a mix from a request I had here, and for asks from the prompt that you can find here and here.

It’s the second part of Ready, Aim, Shoot but I tried to make it understandable even if you didn’t have read the first part.

So please enjoy ♥

TW : Mention of accident, coma, injuries, blood. But it will get better.

Prompt : 22 (I won't anyone lay an hand on you) & 28 (Why are you bleeding?)

PART 1 | PART 3

____________________________________________________________

You never felt as weird as Alexia takes you home from the airport. Barcelona doesn’t have change in any way, it’s still the same streets, the same traffic jam, the same scents, the same laughs and happiness of people. But you, you have changed. What you have to get through make you change. You’ve learned the death of three of your colleagues. They are dead and you are not. Some of them had kids, lovers and they are dead. Why you, aren’t you dead? Why did you survive the bomb, your injuries when others didn’t?

Alexia puts her hand delicately on your knee and you jump, returning to reality. She looks at you with concern and you try to give her a smile, but you fail.

“It’s going to be alright, mi Amor. You are not alone. I’m here so is your parents, your siblings and your friends.”

“I know” you confirm quietly. “I’m sorry”

“You don’t have to be for anything mi Amor.”

You put your hand on Alexia’s, stroking her fingers with your thumb while looking outside. The sun is shining and you’re pretty sure that all the beaches are crowded with people. You always loved going there but with Alexia’s popularity you have to find more quiet beaches. Which you don’t mind. As long as you’re with her, it’s all that it matters.

At home, you are greeted by your cat who comes to rub himself against your legs while meowing, until you lower yourself to carry him. The movement makes you wince in pain, which Alexia doesn’t miss. But you assure her it’s okay, squeezing Diabolo against you. He let you do it for some minutes, before leaving your arms to go back to sleep.

“Glad to see that some things will never change” you roll your eyes.

Alexia laughs slightly, coming back from the bathroom where she putted your suitcase that she didn’t let you carry. She takes your hand in hers, taking you gently against her.

“If you hug me, you’ll see that I will never let you go”

“Take that Diabolo.”

You smile, getting as close as your injuries let you do it. The painkiller seems to start to stop working and you surely have to take one soon. But first you need to take a good shower, you’re not allowed to take a bath because of your scars.

“I’m going to take a shower” you inform your girlfriend.

She nods, kisses your cheek and follows you to the bathroom. You started to get off of your clothes, before stopping. You usually don’t mind Alexia’s presence in the bathroom when you take your shower, it’s a moment where you talk a lot about things. Sometimes she showers with you, other times she does different facial or hair treatments or she just sit on the toilet lid.

But today, you have way more scares than before and you’re not sure that you want Alexia to see it. The blonde sees you looking at her through the mirror and bites her lip. She immediately understands your torment.

“I’ll leave if you want. But I want you to know that it won’t change the way I look at you or the way I love you. No matter how your body is, you’re still you. And I will always love you.”

You nod, but you’re still nervous. Like if she doesn’t want to scare you, Alexia come to you slowly, surrounding you with her arms.

“Let me help you?”

She’s looking at your eyes in the mirror and you nod one more time. You let her take off your shirt and pants. She had done that a thousand times, but always with teasing hands or eagerly. Today, however, her hands are sweet and caring, as if she wanted to heal you with them. She also removes the protection on your knee and shoulder, with a thousand precautions.

She frowns when she sees your injuries. Your nose doesn’t look broken anymore, but you still have bruises and cuts. You swallow but then you see that she’s looking at one of your scare on your stomach.

“Why are you bleeding?”

You follow her eyes and shrug lightly.

“This one seems to have difficulty to heal” you mumble.

“I’ll take you to the Barca’s medic tomorrow. But now, you have to take your shower and get some rest.”

********

Alexia takes you to her favorite medical team and they work their magic. You still have pain sometimes, especially on your shoulder, but you are getting better. You filed your resignation some days after your arrival at Barcelona and it’s not a surprise for anyone. Some media tried to talk to you about what happened, but you shut them down every time. It’s too soon.

You’re pretty great during the day, you keep yourself busy with things. Alexia is almost always there with you and when she isn’t, you have friends or family visiting. Alexia takes you to walk in early morning for Nala’s stroking, every day. She’s an angel of patience, always kind, caring and loving. You cook for her every night, following her diet with attention. This allows you to occupy your mind and hands.

Your girlfriend and family insist that you go to see a specialist, to talk about what you’ve been through. You hate this. It’s always hard for you to talk about all this. You beg almost every time Alexia to not make you go, but she’s determined, confident that it will help you get better quickly. The worst thing is that she’s right.

At nights, however, it’s more difficult. You have trouble to fall asleep even if you avoid naps during the day to help you falling asleep. But it doesn’t work well. You stay still in your bed for hours; you don’t want to wake Alexia up. She takes so good care of you, she deserves her beauty sleep.

And when you fall asleep, you have a lot of nightmares. It’s normal and a process to get better if you listen to your psychoanalyst. But it’s still terrifying. For you and your girlfriend.

Once again tonight, Alexia is awakened by your scream of terrors. You’re still asleep in your nightmare when she sits on the bed. You’re turning around, the sheet wrapped around you, fighting against your nightmare. It’s always difficult for her to wake you up, she scared that you hurt yourself when you’re jiggling like that, but she’s scared too that she might hurt you.

So, she takes your face between her hands, calling you several times before you finally open your eyes.

“Alexia” you call her, terrified.

“I’m here mi Amor. It’s ok. You’re ok.”

You sit down too, looking around you. You become aware of the bedroom you share with Alexia and her presence at your side. She’s stroking your arm lightly, looking at you patiently.

“Ale” you mumble this time.

“I’m here. You’re safe. I won't anyone lay a hand on you.”

She takes you on her arms, making you sit on her lap. Letting yourself go against her. She strokes your back this time, rocking you softly. You let your breath slow down, very aware of your quick heartbeat.

“I’m sorry”

Alexia takes the time to kiss your jaw, your cheek several times and your forehead before answering.

“You don’t have to be.”

“Yes, I do, Ale. I’m a mess. I can’t sleep and I can’t do a lot of things alone because of my injuries. I keep waking you up almost every night because I can’t get better. I should have listened to you and stay at Barcelona. I’m so so…”

But Alexia doesn’t let you finish, putting a finger on your lips to stop your rambling. Tears are in your eyes again but for now you managed to keep them inside your eyes.

“You’re getting better, Y/N. You don’t zone out like you did when you came back. You smile more, your injuries are getting better, and I see you smile way more than before. No one expects to you to heal in two days, especially not me. You took so good care of me when I was injured, now it’s my turn.”

She puts a hand on your cheek, making you look at her. Her hazel eyes are looking at you with so much care and love that it took your breath away.

“What if the nightmares never end Ale?”

“We will find a way to heal you, mi Amor. I swear.”

You believe her. She seems so sure of herself that you believe her. She kisses your cheek again and when you turn your face, she kisses the corner of your mouth first and then your lips. One time, two time and the third you press your lips a little longer against her.

********

Alexia was right. You get better, even if it takes time. You still have nightmare sometimes, but you manage to not wake Alexia up every time. She’s not happy when you don’t though, wanting to be there for you as much as she can.

When your shoulder is better, she lets you come back to look at her games, as long as you are with her sister or her mother. She’s way too scared that someone push you and hurt you again to let you go there by yourself. You feel bad for Alba or Eli, given the imperious tone with which Alexia orders them to watch over you. But the two women don’t seem to mind, looking at you like you are the most precious thing in the world. When you joke about it with Eli one time, she answers you that you are the most precious thing in Alexia’s word. You didn’t know what answer to that.

Alexia always takes a thousand precautions with you, whether you are at home or outside. She doesn’t hesitate to scold someone who approaches you too much or to carry you from one room to another to avoid working your knee after your physiotherapy sessions. Which she wants to take you every time, by the way.

And the best thing about all of this, she does all of this without being intrusive. On the contrary. Her presence reassures you and is a strength for you. Your recovery without her would have been very much longer.

Tonight, she’s not taking you at home immediately after the game like she did the other times. Instead, she takes you with her in the lobby where the families are going after the games. There you met her friends, that you also appreciate very much too.

“Take it easy, Lucy, you’re going to hurt her.”

Alexia practically teleported to your side when she saw Lucy take you in her arms to greet you.

“I’m careful Capi, don’t worry.”

You smile at Lucy after she told you she was happy to see you again. You’re seeing many of Alexia’s teammates you haven’t seen since you returned to Barcelona. But your girlfriend never walks away from you, except to get you something to drink. And when you start to get tired, she sees it immediately.

“Do you want to go home?” she whispers in your ear.

You smile softly, letting yourself go against her. She passes delicately her arms around your waist and put her chin on your shoulder.

“You’re having fun, we can stay a little bit longer if you want.”

“How is your knee?”

“I’m fine, Cariño.”

She hums and keep you against her for a few more moments, kissing softly your cheek.

“Five more minutes and we go.”

“Alright Capitana” you smirk.

She snorts, pinching your rib lightly, surely not to hurt you. You can’t wait for your bruises to completely disappear, so that Alexia can start touching you again like she used to. Her love language being touching, you sometimes feel like she has to restrained herself.

That’s what you’re thinking about in her car when she takes you home. You’re thinking about it when you prepare yourself to go to bed too and when you’re in her arms in your bed you start to overthink it maybe a little too much. What if she never touches you like before, because all she’s going to see from you is this wounded woman? What if she finds someone else wit who she wants to share this kind of moment with? Alexia saw that you were a little lost in your thoughts when you came home, but she didn’t push you to talk about it.

You just have to look up to know what she’s peacefully asleep. Her face is completely relaxed, and her chest rises peacefully to the rhythm of her breathing. Yours is quite complicated, so you choose to escape her arms to take refuge in your balcony, hopping the fresh air will help you.

Sitting in a chair, you put your head in your hands, trying to collect your thoughts. Alexia promised to never let you down, but how can she be certain that her feelings will never change?

You don’t know how many times you are staying here, but Alexia’s voice almost makes you fall from your seat. You’re so surprised that you don’t understand what she says to you. You just blink at her as she’s looking at you with a worried look.

“You will freeze to death, come inside please.”

You take the hand she hands you to help you get up. And she wraps you in her arms in a protective way as soon as she closes the door. The warm of her skin makes you realize that you are, in fact, very cold.

“Were you trying to get pneumonia or something?” she asks, frowning.

“I couldn’t sleep” you mumble.

She sighs and she doesn’t have to say what she’s thinking. You already know that she’s not happy that you didn’t wake her. She doesn’t bother to tell it to you anyway.

“Do you need a hot shower, or can we go to bed?”

“We can go to bed” you sigh.

She seems upset and you hesitate to lye against her, but she takes you back in her arms.

“Did you have a nightmare?” she asks, some minutes after.

“No” you simply answer.

“Why couldn't you sleep so?”

“I don’t know.”

Alexia knows that you’re lying, and she hates it. But she doesn’t say anything, knowing that you will talk about it when you are ready. Some minutes passes before you talk again.

“I’m just scared” you whisper in the darkness of your room.

“About what?”

Her voice learns you that she’s not sleepy at all. Maybe she decided to stay awake as long as you’re not sleeping. She raises herself a little bit, to have a better look at you.

“Losing you”

Your voice is a whisper, but Alexia reacts like if you were screaming, almost jumping from her place in the bed.

“Why would you lose me?”

You shrug, but Alexia doesn’t have it. She looks at you, waiting for you to give her a proper answer. You take your time to choose your words, scared of starting a fight. You try to escape the real discussion once again.

“I don’t know, it’s just my insecurities I guess.”

“Talk to me, mi Amor. Please”

You look at her and sit down, feeling like you have to look properly at her for this kind of things. Alexia sits too, her beautiful eyes looking deeply at you.

“I’m scared to never be enough for you again. I’m not saying that I was at one time, but right now… What if you never se me again like someone… I don’t know how to say it without being cringe.”

You roll your eyes, tired of yourself. Alexia shows you once again how much she can be patient though, taking your hand in hers to interlink your fingers together.

“I don’t want to be your poor injured girlfriend for the end of our life. I want you to see me as someone who can take one of our long walk again, someone who you can do everything you want with. Someone you can touch the way you like without being scared of hurting.”

Alexia is looking at you closely, listening every one of you word with deep care.

“When I hurt my knee, were you seeing me like someone reduced?”

“Of course not” you frown.

“Well it’s just the same thing for me. I don’t see you as my injured girlfriend, I see you as the love of my life that I almost lost some weeks before.”

“But my body isn’t the same anymore, Ale”

“Your scars will only remind me everyday how lucky I am to have you and how much I love you. And I will kiss them everyday to remind me of that.”

Raising slowly her hand on your cheek, she starts to stroke it softly, but her eyes are full of love when she looks at you. Deep, sincere love. Then she kisses you before taking you slowly in her arms again, making you lye on her.

“You can sleep tight mi Amor. I’ll always be here.”

[heizlut]

Breeding kink with Razor

this is so fitting for him, i love it! i’m adjusting his speech pattern slightly just so it flows a little better, hope you don’t mind❤️

Instincts

cw: public sex, breeding, biting/marking, ovulation, mentions of pregnancy

tags: switch fem!reader, switch!razor, he’s literally 18 so scroll away if you have an issue xoxo💋

nsfw under the cut

m!list here

⚡︎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓃦⚡︎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓃦⚡︎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓃦⚡︎

You and Razor had a bit of an odd relationship. He came across you months ago, spying behind a tree in Wolvendom when you made your first appearance there. He was wary of you, not sure if you were friendly or there to hunt the wolves he called family. Once he saw you were only there for the wolfhook each time you came, he started to gain the courage to get closer.

In truth, you had started going there because you had heard about him through the Knights of Favonius and wanted to see him for yourself. You knew he was watching, but you didn't want to startle him, so each time you came you only gathered some wolfhook and went on your way. Each day was the same routine, until one day he approached you, still a little wary of you, "...Nice?"

Those were his first words to you. Your eyes landed on him and you smiled brightly, "I am." You were captured by the way he looked; toned muscles, scars across his body and face, long thick silver hair, and crimson eyes. He was better than you had imagined, even if his manner of speech was a little strange. After letting Razor smell your neck, he smiled at you telling you that you smelled like a flower.

Every quirk he had was so cute to you. Weeks passed and each day you would visit Razor, getting to know each other and he grew to trust you immensely. You even had been helping him speak in more proper sentences, although that was still a work in progress. You would be a fool to miss the way his gaze lingered on you and the way he would get as close to you as he could without outright being on top of you.

You looked to him, only to see Razor had already been staring at you. He tilted his head a little as you studied each other in silence. You were the first one to break it, "Do you want to be with me?" The look of confusion on his face made you giggle, "Am with you now, no?" How cute and innocent he was... You shook your head still laughing, "I mean romantically."

Razor's eyebrows scrunched as he repeated the word back to you, clearly unsure of what it meant. You didn't think words would help you out with this, so you reached up and turned his face to yours, pressing a kiss to his lips. He knew what you meant now as he melted into the kiss. Ever since then, you two were inseparable. Which bring us to the present.

The sun was setting, low in the sky, when you made your way to your usual spot. Before you could even call out to him, Razor pounced on you, knocking you both to the ground and making you squeal, "Razor wha-" Your words are cut off when you feel something hard press against your core and his nose lightly grazing your skin as he takes in your scent, "You smell...Different. Good..."

Your cheeks immediately heat up. You were ovulating and he could smell it. Did he even know what that meant? Razor's nose trails down your body til it reaches your cunt, his nose pressing against your clothed clit, making you suck in a breath. He nudges it again, then his eyes flick up to yours, "Here. New good smell... I want more." He doesn't wait for your response before he starts tugging down your pants.

"Razor wait! We're outside... What if someone comes?", your voice came out a little breathy, feeling an aching need at your center. Razor tilts his head, "Why care? No one comes." He was right. People usually avoided coming to Wolvendom. Besides, you were more needy and sensitive than usual because of your ovulation. You just wanted to be filled. You end up lifting your hips slightly to help Razor who continued to tug at your pants.

The warm breeze brushing against your exposed pussy made your scent even more potent to him. Razor immediately begins lapping at your cunt, drawing a sweet moan from within you. The way his tongue circled your clit and lapped at your arousal made you tug his hair. He practically growls when you do so, not wanting to separate himself from something so new and delicious, so he latches on to it. Razor’s lips suck your clit into his mouth while his tongue continues it’s lashings. Your head falls back against the soft grass as you come undone on his tongue.

The taste was even more divine than it smelled, making him continue and overstimulate you. Your legs shake hard and you tug his hair hard with a soft cry of his name. Razor glances up at you curiously but annoyed you wanted to pull him from this. His mouth open and tongue still against your clit. “Come here…” your voice is shaky as you try to get him to listen. Thankfully, he finally does, crawling up and caging you in with his body, “Why? Wasn’t finished…” You roll your hips up making your bare cunt grind against his bulge, “I want you inside me.”

Razor lets out a deep groan as you grind up into him, “What in where? Help..” You knew he was legitimately clueless but him asking you to be so specific sparked something inside of you. It turned you on. “I need your cock in my pussy. Fill me up. Breed me.” Those last two words did it. Oh he knew what that meant alright. Razor fumbles with his pants, wanting to free his throbbing length. You almost laugh at how hard he’s trying and you take over. Catching him off guard, you roll the both of you over, you now caging him in. You smirk when he looks up at you with surprise, “Let me do it.”

Razor almost pouts but stops the minute your hand wraps around his cock, his eyes goes wide at the new sensation and at a loss for words. He has so many questions but they’d have to wait because now your were slowly sinking yourself down onto his dick. He grips onto your hips as though you would disappear from him any second and his eyes almost roll back, “Good…. So good…”

Once you were fully seated on top of him, you begin to move slowly. You grind against him and then begin to move yourself, letting his cock drag in and out of your walls at a brutally slow pace. Every time his cock went back in to the hilt, Razor felt he was going insane. So much so that now he flipped the position yet again, leaning down to lick at your neck, and he growls, “Too slow.” Before you can even ask what he means, he begins thrusting inside your tight wet cunt as if this would be the first and last time he ever got to fuck you. You cry out, digging your nails into his scarred back, your legs wrapping around his toned waist to keep him close.

The growls and grunts that fall from Razor’s lips sound so primal, as if he’s just running in instinct at this point. And he really truly is. Every since he smelled that delicious scent, his instincts were telling him he needed to fuck you so full of his cum and make you swell with his children. The sounds coming from both of you and from the way his balls slapped against your ass and the way your pussy squelched with each hard thrust was so incredibly lewd. Razor leans back down to your neck, biting hard enough to break skin as he growls once more, “Mine.” This brings you completely over the edge, your sweet pussy pulsating around his cock as you cum.

It’s not long til Razor follow suit. He latches onto the mark he gave you, letting out a muffled, husky groan as he fills you with his potent load. The way his cock throbs inside of you makes you feel overstimulated for the second time that day. Razor stays still for a moment, not wanting to pull out. Not wanting to be done. He wanted to see your breasts grow bigger and your stomach swell. He wanted to make you his for life. The thought alone makes his cock begin to harden inside of you once more and he looks into your eyes, “Again.”

⚡︎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓃦⚡︎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓃦⚡︎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓃦⚡︎

a/n: this makes me want to write knotting/omegaverse fics😭