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angelisverba · 2 years ago

Text

kryptonite

in which y/n smokes weed (sometimes) and she thinks her dealer is super cute, and harry always gives her a little extra because she’s sweet

word count: 8.2k

pairing: plug!h and y/n

warning: if you are uncomfortable with the use of drugs, please do not continue reading!! i DO NOT want to see any messages in my inbox that talk of ‘glamourizing’ this drug. if you don’t like it-> don’t read it. mentions of bullying, peer pressure,

author’s notes: the second and final part to this fic will be posted next week, feb. 02 at 8am pst.

* * * * * * *

Harry hated parties.

Admittedly, they were a third of his source of income, but unless it wasn’t a gathering exclusively composed of his close circle, he didn’t want anything to do with it. They were too loud and sticky, messy and smelly. Red solo-cups littered at every available corner, half filled with Coca-cola, vodka, and the occasional sad, cigarette butt. Scantily clad girls and ‘discreet’ boys that didn’t know how to read body language that clearly screamed ‘I’M NOT INTERESTED!’. It just all got his nerves because half the time he knew they were only using him to get reduced prices on the marijuana he spent ample time on growing.

He tried, as a general rule, to limit his reluctant, brooding attendance to parties he knew would only consist of Mitch, Sarah, Adam, and the handful of other friends that just wanted to have a good time and a nice snuggle on a cramped couch that rumbled with intoxicated laughter. He liked being in a crowd he knew, it was much more intimate, less pressure-filled. He didn’t have to maintain that ‘polite’ air that was socially required in an atmosphere of people he didn’t know. No niceties or complimentary. When it was just him and his friends, all of that ‘quiet’ and ‘please, thank you’ shit wasn’t necessary. He could jump straight to his affectionate, giggly, sprawling-all-over-everyone’s-lap self, and no one would question it because they know it’s what he preferred.

But, at a big house party like the one where he was at, where everyone knew him as The One Guy Who Sells The Good Shit, Harry had to pretend to be polite and quiet and small, and adopt an overall stiff persona that made him prickly and cold. This wasn’t him. He didn’t like this, and wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for his very convincing friend Mitch, who noticed that business was slow and assured him that he was bound to 1) ‘sell a shit-ton’ and 2) gather a handful of new clients once they realized that what he had to dispense was pretty good quality for a subjectively cheap price.

Mitch had been right, of course.

The small black backpack of goodies that Harry had brought to this inconspicuous function had been empty in less than two hours, and he’d repeated his number enough times that it started to feel forgein on his tongue. Once or twice, a few girls had flashed him what could be called ‘bedroom eyes’, but he wasn’t in the mood to get his rocks off. When he came with a purpose to sell, any need, want, or hope for sex flew out of the window because then he ran the risk of girls thinking their ‘connection’ entitled them to some sort of discount on weed, and he didn’t particularly fancy ruining his post-coitous bliss with the awkward exchange of rejection that followed their questions.

Plus, it made him feel used.

A good three hours have passed, and he’s about to tell Mitch he’s ready to leave when his line of sight is snagged on the diamond image- no, a beautifully deceiving mirage, because there’s no way this girl is real. Not when she looks like a ditzy sprite, a walking mermaid, a glimmering fairy, a heart-wrenching siren, and any other bewitching, ethereal creatures that stole men’s souls upon the first breath they took in their presence. She looked like one of his psychedelic hallucinations that whispered sweet things to him and played with the ends of his hair when he’s in the lull of shrooms, brought to life. Grounded, real, and three-dimensional, not just in the airy, green-leafed recesses of his muddled mind.

This pretty little enchantment that caught his eye had floated into the room on two clumsy, shoddy-sneaker covered feet that extended from bambi-like legs with knees that were almost comically knocking against one another. She walked slanted, her shoulder pressed against her friend’s, whom Harry might have been able to recognize as Sarah if he spared his gaze, but that was impossible. So, he thought to himself, this is how magnets work? Even if he wanted to, he knew he wouldn’t be able to dislocate his line of sight from the socket it had carved itself into. Her cheeks, rounded with laughter and smiles, were dusted with the telling, glimmering sheen created by alcohol, and her eyes were bright, shiny, and starry from the handful of lamps that lit the living room. The slope of her waist, semi-shrouded deliciously from the billowy fabric of her powder blue summer dress (he couldn’t fucking believe she was wearing a dress when it was windy outside. Did she not care for her health?) and it made him think of the marvelous illusions created from marble. He was fond of going to museums and staring- for hours, at times- at statues of women draped in silk that were replicated with such precision, it was almost as if the wind was right there, rippling against the tantalizing figure of the unidentified female, so much so that an man was inspired to share his tortured vision. In solid form, nonetheless.

It made him wonder what the artist could see in real life. What they envisioned the model to be like underneath the heavenly fibers that twisted and turned restlessly with running air, preventing a clear grasp on the body underneath. Spurred to the point of such desolation, left with a hunger to resurrect what their mind’s eye consumed in physical format to live on forever and torment anyone else who looked.

He understood then. Understood that hunger and want for more.

She spun prettily like one of those ceramic ballerinas in a golden music box owned by children of important people, and that damn dress was both too loose and too free, moving around her with a protective fluidity from hungry, lovelorn wolves like him. He can’t hear her clearly because he’s too far away, but the snippets of her laugh that his ears manage to funnel down to his eardrums sound like a fairy’s tinkle.

She is a dream. Head thrown back before she replies with such enthusiasm and a strange half-lucidity that it has him leaning in to try and hear the drunken words that escape her soundless lips. He’s stuck in a moment of frozen time with her and only her. There’s a pinch behind his sternum when her head moves in his direction, and a strong titanic-worthy sink when she stops before even reaching his gaze. The words of some pop song from the early 2000’s skim cheesily through the background of his brain like a lonesome draft. Where have you been all my life?

Tunnel vision, he believes it might be called.

Next to him, Mitch bumps his shoulder, shattering his dangerously sharp focus with mumbled words that Harry doesn’t quite register with complete comprehension because they sound warped, as if they were spoken through a thick layer of glass or from underwater.

“What?” He blinks, his eyes stuck on her but his head rotated enough to the side that his friend knows he’s listening. He’s afraid that if he stops looking, or even blinks, she'll evaporate into thin air and he’ll spend the rest of his life wondering if she really was a mythical being conjured from his second-hand high.

Mitch clears his throat and hides a knowing twitch of his mouth beneath the rim of his drink, “I said her name is y/n.”

Harry, distracted and oblivious, is unaware that Mitch caught on to the focus of his attention, asks, “Who?”

This time, he can’t help but huff a chuckle, “This girl, H. Her name is y/n. She just started working with Sarah. Sarah says she keeps to herself, but there’s been a bit of… bullying, so she invited her out for a good time.”

“Bullying?” A faucet of anger opens in his major arteries and replaces his blood with a river of internalized rage. Bullying? Bullying her? His head whips around with enough speed to crack the vertebrae in his neck, and his thick brows furrowed with a fierce expression that would scare anyone that looked at him then (Mitch being exempt because he knew there would be no harm coming from that look). “What do y’mean bullying?” He spits the word out like it tastes foul.

Mitch takes another sip from the red solo cup, taking time to compose his face before continuing casually, “yeah. Y/n’s new, sweet, and quiet. Sarah says the others at work think that she’s their personal coffee runner or something. She tries to help her when she can, but she's not always around ‘cause of meetings or whatever.”

Harry sucks on his teeth and shakes his head, twisting again to observe y/n with mooney eyes, bitterness still simmering within him at the treatment she receives at her workplace. Especially when the smile he was so fortunate to witness made him taste caramel and honey and peach nectar and all of the sweet treats that traversed through his esophagus when the munchies hit. It warmed him to finally have a lovely name to attach to a lovely name.

Y/n. It settled nicely in his inner monologue, and he wanted to speak it. Test it on his tongue to see if it molded his lips as nicely as he imagined it would. It fit her, he thought. Y/n. Weirdly, Harry itched to throw it casually in a conversation with her. An exclamation. A wheezed whisper in the middle of a breathless laugh. In a greeting. In a goodbye. To grab her attention. To console. It was ridiculous! He didn’t even know her but he wanted, badly, for this party to transform into one of the more comfortable ones he had with his friends. For her to sit next to him on the couch his arm around the space behind her as she leaned into him unconsciously as the conversation continued. To grab her bicep in a nervous giggle when he stumbled after one too many. To share a bowl of chips with her (lime was his favorite, but he would eat barbecue flavored ones- his least favorite- if they were hers).

“Whose-”a burp, “motorcycle is blocking the driveway?!”

A clearly drunk male slurred from the front of the house, an arm raised as he swayed in a half-assed attempt to grab everyone’s attention, the drink in his hand sloshing onto the carpet and Harry winced, half from being startled and half from the suddenly stiffness that came with several pairs of eyes landing his way.

“Sorry, mate. That would be me.” He raised a finger in the air and bent at the waist to deposit his unfinished drink on a low black coffee table by his knees. He shrugged, rolling his lips into his mouth and turning to Mitch with his shoulders lifting with the beginnings of a hug, “‘was just gonna leave, anyway.”

“Early night, H?” Mitch mumbled, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek while embracing his friend, the ghost of a laugh lingering in his nasal passage. Harry’s cheeks turned a light pink and his nostrils flared in his attempt to hide his smile.

“Yup.” Harry returned the kiss, his nose digging onto the scruff of Mitch’s cheek, tickling him. Stepping back from their show of affection, he patted his palms against his thigh to make sure he had his phone and keys, and tugged the strap of the small backpack on his shoulder to verify it’s presence.

Mitch resumed his leaning position against the door frame, hand in his pocket, “alright. Text me when you get home.”

“‘Course.” Sparing one last glance in the charming sprite’s direction as he said his final goodbye, he was devastated to find that she had, in fact, disappeared, just as he’d feared.

He almost stayed to find her and watch over y/n like some sort of guardian angel, but he didn’t have the guts to go up to her. He hadn’t even finished one drink, so liquid courage wasn’t there to help him, not when he had to ride his motorcycle home. He almost asked Mitch to keep an eye on her for him, but it wasn’t necessary. Sarah was with her, and therefore he’s already watching her.

And from the comforting, yet teasing, twinkle in his friend’s eyes told Harry everything he needed to know. He knew that he was well on his way to cracking his head open over his heels.

Their friendship had always been one of little words.

******

Harry’s been delivering weed for a while now.

What started as a side hustle to obtain much needed income when times were tough developed into an interesting near full-time job with amazing results and benefits (he got to smoke weed for free now, since he grew it himself, but there was always that whole ‘don’t get high off your own supply’ rule, so he did limit himself). He had thought that he would have trouble attaining customers, but word spread like wildfire amongst his close circle of friends, which all happened to be free spirited individuals that harnessed the powers of nature, and then their friends, trusted friends, and so on and so forth.

It got to a point where he needed a separate phone for dealing alone because the ‘rush hour’ would meddle with his personal texts, leading to frequent ‘wrong person’ texts, and he traded his crappy car for a decent motorcycle so he could get to drop-off locations quicker. The added ‘badass’ effect also stroked his ego, so it was a wonderful bonus.

But the annoyance of being interrupted in the middle of something like, let’s say… an episode of Hannibal with a warm bowl of buttered popcorn in his lap always came in the same frustrating amounts.

Like now.

The Netflix screen pauses on Mads Mikkelsen’s face, spouting some bullshit about a tea cup, when his phone dings with a new notification. The sound is a specifically selected ‘ding!’ that is different from his personal phone so it’s easier to differentiate the purpose of the incoming message, and a rumbling groan vibrates from the back of his throat. Throwing his head back against his beat up, brown leather couch, Harry slams his hand around him until his ringed fingers click against the sleek device, and it automatically lights up as he brings it up to his face.

Unknown Number: Hi! Mitch gave me this number and said I’d be able to buy some pre-rolls?

Fucking Mitch. He often passes the number off to his buddies at the record store he works at. The dude started typing again, and the grey bubble with three dots wiggles at the bottom corner of the new text chat. Harry waited.

Unknown Number: If it’s too late for you, I understand.

It was, in fact, too late for him. But, money was money. He technically wasn’t doing anything important, so he would go and deliver to this-

Unknown Number: My name is y/n, by the way :D

Not a dude.

Fuck.

Not a dude.

The popcorn went flying off his chest and spilled all over the floor as he jumped up from his seat. Fuck. Y/n? Y/n with a smiley face. The girl from the party? His heart came to a stuttering stop, screeching like tired on asphalt breaking at a high speed as he came to the realization. The girl has haunted him like a stubborn will ‘o wisp for the past week was texting him. Albeit, it is for a service, but it was still something. The marijuana aspect of his situation didn’t bother him. He sold and consumed, it would be hypocritical of him if it did. Besides, she was an adult. She could do what she liked.

His jaw is on the floor, his eyes popping out of his head and he can’t believe what’s happening to him at that moment. He’d kiss Mitch on the mouth next time he saw him. It’s not until he sees the grey bubbles appear and disappear quickly again that he remembers the normal, usual response to this kind of situation is to type back. With trembling fingers, he pressed on keys, tapped on the backspace button, and repeated those motions several times because he had no idea what he was supposed to say- no, what was right to say to her. He had a standard response when it came to people who wanted to buy from him, but sending her prewritten message in his notes app that consisted of a short, perfunctory greeting followed by a menu-structured list of what he had available that day and their prices. There was no way in hell he’d send that to her.

Harry: Hello! It’s not too late for me to deliver. What can I help you with?

Unknown Number: Mitch mentioned that you offered a 2 for $35 deal?

Unknown Number: Is that still available?

Harry did offer a two-joint for thirty five bucks deal. Pre-rolled joints in cherry rolling paper about as long as his middle finger to the halfway point of his palm, semi-thickly packed with a hybrid blend of the two Mary-Jane plants (Sativa and Indica, none of that Maui Wowie, Blue Dream, or other strains; he liked to keep it simple) he had in a specially insulated box in the garage attached to the house he rented. It was his most popular sell; decent amount, excellent high, excellent trip. But… two? Was she smoking with someone else? Or was she saving one for a later time? He didn’t think she was the type to smoke two at once, but then again he didn’t know her, so her reasons were unclear to him.

However, if he arrived at her location and she was with someone (a male, specifically) his night would be ruined, because then that would mean that any marginal chance that he had with her was out of the question. And he couldn’t ask her right away because they hadn’t even properly met yet, and that would be weird and rude. That didn’t help his overthinking tendencies, and in a matter of seconds, Harry was sitting at the edge of his couch, popcorn crunching underneath his butt as a frown settled on his handsome features. Jaw set, lips puckered in contemplation with a pinch between his drawn eyebrows that casted shadows over his emerald eyes. He looked menacing, and his smattering collection of tattoos didn’t help either.

Or his motorcycle.

Or the intimidating stigma that came with his title of ‘plug’.

Stubborn as he was, this look of ‘don’t fucking talk to me’ would stay with him for the rest of the night, all because he couldn’t restrain himself from coming to incorrect conclusions. He didn’t know if y/n had a boyfriend, if she was with a friend, or if she would even be interest in him, but the sour thoughts that she did have a boyfriend and wouldn’t be interested in a ‘lowlife’ drug dealer loomed over him like a murky, stormy, thundering clouds.

He sent his response and changed her contact name.

Harry: I do!

Harry: Did you want to see the rest of the menu or are you set?

He knew he was being short with her. His messages were missing their customary smiley faces, the extra exclamation marks, the occasional x’s and o’s. He didn’t even type with capitalized letters, but in order to refrain from diving even further into this hole of hope, he decided that the change in his style of grammar would help him become emotionally distant. He just couldn’t bring himself to add them while he was in a stubborn, self-induced slump. While he looked angry, glittery butterflies beat their cellophane wings inside his ribcage and shook magical glitter onto his intestines, making them warm and queasy.

Y/n: I think that’ll be all for tonight

The causal mention of ‘for tonight’ gives him hope. That implied there would be other nights, and even though he’s currently grumpy because relationships are fucking complicated, he wanted to see her again and again.

Harry: Send your address, please.

She sends her location.

Harry: I’ll be there in 15 minutes.

Since he’s already half dressed in black jeans and a white Fruit of the Loom t-shirt from his earlier afternoon deliveries, he only has to part the crystal bead curtain in the doorframe of his living room to grab the leather jacket hanging from a bright yellow coat rack besides his door, and the backpack that he left in a slump besides his shoes (already packed with goods). He doesn’t think twice about the popcorn that’s scattered all over his floor and couch or that the Netflix “are you still there?” screen blinks black when he picks up his keys from the hook next to his door.

The garage opened when he pressed the button inside the kitchen hall, and he stepped out through the side door leading to the space where he kept his motorcycle. The owners before him had left a shit-load of junk that had taken up most of the space, and with their permission, he sold and threw most of it away. For the most part, it was empty. A bench, some boxes, and the white-refrigerator like rectangular box underneath the worktable along with his ride were the only things in there.

Grumbling and pouting like a petulant child, Harry clipped on his black helmet, flipped the visor down with two slender fingers, and dropped the backpack into the compartment attached to the backseat. A button on his keys closed the garage door behind him as he kicked aside the stand and swerved with a screech onto the road, the night air wrapping around bare throat as he cut through at a higher velocity than was surely legal on a residential street, but he didn’t see it as a crime when the heart was involved. He could picture himself explaining to the officer that pulled hi over in a hypothetical situation, that he was on his way to deliver drugs to the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and the officer nodding solemnly at his noble cause.

Totally realistic.

Cars honked when he cut them off abruptly, and he gathered stares from the handful of people that were still wandering along the streets, spilling out at random intervals from bars. He had to cut through bits of the city to get to where she lived, and the three red lights that stalled his perusal were lucky that they were government property or else he would have damaged them in a severe fit of impatient rage. He tapped the tips of his shit-colored vans against the road and clenched his ringed fingers around the handlebars, engine roaring with pending release. He should have grabbed leather gloves, he thinks, if not to impress her, then at least to keep his fingers warm because it was an especially chilly night.

Harry’s pulling up to a brick building in exactly fifteen minutes. There’s fire escape ladders trickling down the side, and cement stairs leading up to a brown oak door with a thin window pane slightly left ajar while a burning yellow light seeps in a long bar across the steps like a satin ribbon. Several windows are bright with light from the inside, and the spare streetlamps that cast a spotlight on the sidewalk make the street unsettling, like someone is hiding in the shadows extending from tree trunks. Harry doesn’t like it one bit, and he hopes y/n isn’t walking these streets by herself at night.

He’s simultaneously taking his helmet off and reaching for his phone in his back pocket when he hears her small peep coming from the door.

“Hi!”

And then, she’s all he can see, hear, think. She’s just as absorbing and hypnotizing as the first time he saw her, even though she’s standing in what is clearly pajamas. A long, sage knitted sweater that ends at the tips of her fingers and just above her knees, making her look like a leafy blob. Black sweatpants that are just as loose and baggy shadow the faint silhouette of her legs. Y/n is fiddling with her fingers, picking whatever color nail polish paints her nails (Harry can’t see because he’s too far away) and it makes him want to soothe her hands with his own. She’s tugging her bottom lip between her teeth and she probably doesn’t even realize that her eyebrows are furrowed and the bunch on her brow-bone casts comic-like shadows across her pretty little face.

Stupidly, because he can’t think of anything else to say other than ‘hello’ but he thinks that’s lame, he clears his throat and says, “how’d you know I was here?”

“Your… uhm- your motorcycle,” she points with a finger to the machinery beneath his bum. He’s leaning against it, not wanting to intimidate her by crowding her space in a dark-ish place but he doesn’t realize it actually makes him look very intimidating and ‘bad-boy’ looking. Especially with the leather jacket, “was kinda loud.”

“Mmm,” he hums his acknowledgement, because at that last corner he had purposefully revved the engine more than necessary. To impress her or to sate his devilish tendencies, was unclear. The space between his collarbones feels like it’s inflating and deflating with every rapid pulse of his heartbeat, and for the first time in a while, he doesn’t know where his ‘game’ is. He feels lame, at a loss for how to act around an angel when he was nowhere near her level. Hell, did this count as corruption of her innocence? He was selling her drugs for fuck’s sake.

At this realization, a heavy, sticky, nasty weight slathers itself all over his back and it can only be described as guilt. Should he be selling her weed? Should he even be morally conscious at this point? He sells weed to teenagers when he’s sure they aren’t narcs, but this wasn’t some zit-faced twerp.

This was y/n.

A few seconds of silence pass and she’s just staring at him, her lips rolling like there are words she's holding in and Harry staring at her with a closed-off expression, thick chocolate eyebrows furrowed deep in concentration because he’s memorizing every curve of her face to look back on when she wasn’t with him anymore. It’s after her first intake of breath with her mouth open that he snaps out of it and twists hurriedly to yank out the pink baggie with shiny red cherries printed on them. His current special, though he saved the decorated packaging for his closer group of friends because he knew it made them happy and he loved seeing that smile on their faces, but he wasn’t going to tell her that (and secretly he hopes it might put a dent on his irrational guilt).

“Here are y’cherry joints,” he holds it out, pinched between two fingers and his lips are a hard line as his heart beats out of his chest because- oh, god} she’s stepping closer and she smells really good and-

“‘Kay, uhm…” She takes the bag from him and mentally, Harry curses because she chooses to cup the underside of the bag and that wipes all chances of their fingers accidentally touching. She won’t meet his eyes, she’s shifty on her feet, and he doesn’t know how to tell her not to be nervous without sounding like a creep, “I’ve n-never done this before, and Mitch didn’t say if you took cash or Venmo so I brought my phone and wallet because I wasn’t sure which one you preferred.”

His heart goes through the life cycle of a dandelion. It blooms, yellow with happiness and new life breathed into his seedling soul by the sound of her voice, and transforms into the wispy tufts that fly away, ditzy and twirling from her sweet breath. All the while she holds him in her hand, smiling.

But all of these feelings are hidden away under his mask of self-preservation, writhing and squirming like worms. He gives away nothing, his eyes looking a little dead even though the in-between space where his head meets with the nape of his neck is damp with nervous sweat and he remains stiff and lazily posed against his motorcycle because he’s sure if he didn’t have that support his knees would knock together and sound like the cue ball hitting a winning shot in an empty pool hall.

Carding his hand through his unruly curls, he realizes that he should’ve styles his hair before leaving the house or foregone the helmet entirely, not caring about dying because first official impressions should be killer, and the extra harsh cut in his British drawl when he rasps, “cash is fine,” has to do with his own annoyance.

Y/n is flustered, evidence of that clearly sprawled all over her cheeks and base of her throat which he can see even in the darkness. She lifts the front end of her sweater with a paw-hand and Harry’s insides explode. Her phone and folded dollar bills are squeezed between the band of her bottoms and bare skin of her stomach. For just a second, the beautiful second in which she plucks the money from her body, he catches sight of a white, lacy bra-band that looks glorious while backdropped by the plane of her abdomen. He discovers the meaning of life and death, and wishes for a bit of both because this is torture.

The back of his mouth is drier than the sahara desert. Two tender fingers give him Holy ten and five dollar bills, and her angelic voice sings, “thank you,” when he takes it from her like a beggar.

Harry is an asshole because he can’t even respond with words only a hum of ‘mhm’ before swinging his leg over his ride and muttering a half-hearted, choked, ‘see you’ before roaring away.

****

He tries to invalidate his rapidly growing crush. Truly. He wants to brush it off his shoulder like dust because it’s annoying and distracting to constantly think about her, but nothing works.

In retrospect, he was even psychologically rude about it, trying- and failing- to find negative qualities about her or flaws in her appearance, but his fawning heart wouldn’t allow such disrespect to the receiver of it’s pesky little affections. The worst he could come up with was that her eyes looked as if some snot-nosed, uncoordinated, messy little kid had shaken an entire bottle of glitter onto a piece of copy paper and called it a day. And that her voice was soothing enough to coax that same child into comfortable, cow-jumping-over-moons dreams.

He wishes he were that hypothetical child rocked to sleep by her lulling voice because by the way things were going, he’s having a pretty hard time getting a wink of sleep because every time his phone vibrates he snaps straight up like his spine is locked and obsessively searched his phone for her name. And he’s tried putting his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ but it only makes it worse because what if he texts her and he doesn’t see it because he’s sleeping?

All of the customers that came after her, during his period of constant surveillance over his ‘trap phone’ received the best delivery times and the snarkiest attitude he’s ever had to offer. The morning sun isn’t as bright as it used to be and the moon is dimmer than usual because nothing can compare to her. He misses her terribly and it’s stupid because he doesn’t even know her and she probably thinks he’s a jerk because he acts like such a dick.

Mitch thinks it's funny that he’s so twisted about a girl. ‘A’ girl because even though he was high when he spilled his secret to his friend, he doesn’t think he could stand a potential breach of his privacy in the case that Sarah found out.

“I haven’t heard from her in a while,” Harry said.

“Do something about it,” Mitch said.

And well, what the fuck was he supposed to do? It’s not like he can reach out to her to ask her if she wants to buy more weed. That would seem greedy and insensitive on his part; a money hungry dealer. He’s already in a limbo of moral dilemmas that shouldn’t exist in the first place and he doesn’t want to complicate it by any form of shady communication.

His dilemma, however, was solved by whatever divine being that dared to bear witness to his nonsensical pleas to the ether. It seemed as though she favored the night and dark for her ‘picking up’, because the delightful ding! came at the thirty minute mark of his tossing and turning.

With the sheets rumpled around his waist and his templed damp with faint beads of perspiration, Harry straightened in the same way he has for the past month, only the tedious exhaustion of it not being her was begging to gnaw at him. Was this what it felt like to be paranoid? Snapping alert at every single indication of a phone because you think it’s the IRS- or the girl who infects your mind, in his case- calling to demand a service?

Preparing for disappointment again, Harry picked up the phone and squinted as his pupils adjusted to the sudden change in light.

Y/n: Hello, Harry! This is y/n. You delivered to me last month? Are you available for delivery at the moment?

There is a muted thud as his phone slips out of his shocked hands and lands on the rumpled duvet. A thundering set of drums replaces his beating heart and his jaw remains slack because it has lost the ability to close. The perspiration on his hairline transfers to the cave of his hands. For weeks he’s been in a constant state of glum, waiting for her next text, and now that he has it the only thing going through his mind is oh my god, oh my god.

Still, through his haze he manages to reply with,

Harry: Hi!

Harry: Yes, I remember, and yes, I’m available

What he really wanted to say, and what he should have sent was, how could anyone forget you? You haunt me day and night. But that was a little obsessive, and probably would have scared her off before they even got anywhere.

Harry: Would you like to see what I have available?

Y/n: Please :D !

The pre-written list of items he has available changed this week. He’s added some chocolate edibles, brownies, and gummy bears that he picked up for a cheaper, wholesale price at the dispensary he frequents, and it makes him wonder if she’ll dare to buy them. He had one a few days ago at Mitch’s place with Sarah and has a smashing time. He couldn’t stop petting their cat, Texas, because the feel of her brown fur between his fingers was heavenly.

Grey bubbles appear and disappear several times along with his intake of oxygen before a long text appears, listing everything she wants from his makeshift ‘menu’ and… it’s a lot. The last time he received an order like this it was for a frat party that one of Mitch’s coworker’s friend’s brother referred him to, and it took him an entire week of rolling and baking to get his inventory back up. His kitchen smelled like weed-butter for a solid month.

Harry: Give me a moment to make sure I can sell you everything. Pretty large order…

The chipped black paint on his nails became a dark blur as his fingers typed, deleted, and typed uncertain words over and over again before finally settling on a sentence that was… neutral and didn’t send the wrong meaning. Usually, with his customers he was a mixture of blunt and friendly, but y/n wasn’t just a customer, and it made everything ten times harder.

Y/n: I’ll take whatever you have, please! Take your time, I don’t mean to stress you out

If she said please one more time, Harry was sure that he would become a liquid, coagulated version of himself among the mess of his blankets.

Jerking his ankles free of the fabric snake that snared him to a useless bed, he clambered off, knuckling at his tired eyes and shivering as the cool, still air of his room wrapped itself around the warmth of his body. Reaching into his closet for the first things he finds, a dark green hoodie and grey sweatpants, Harry yawns and dramatically stretched with his arms way above his head, hoping that the movement would push out the feeling of loneliness that was beginning to take purchase between his ribs, right underneath his heart.

Another late night, another delivery. He wished there was someone in his bed to call him back. Please don’t go, they’d say, the bed is cold without you in it. A warm hand trailing like a ghost against his thigh as he walked away, and a sleepy smile or groan of displeasure as his goodbye. He might not stay in the bed, but he would be happy- no, elated, to know that he would be coming back to someone.

The grow light of his makeshift greenhouse tinted his skin purple as he rummaged through all of his pre-rolled and pre-packaged items, his phone at his side as he checked off everything she has asked for.

9 of the Cherry Deals

6 of the citrus-infused pre-rolls

4 lavender-infused

10 brownies

And 2 8ths

In total, it came out to 28 joints.

Which is… well, a lot for just one person, or two, or three (unless you’re Snoop Dog or something). Packing everything up into four separate paper bags, and then a larger white bag so that she isn't filling with all of the smaller ones, he types out another cold text.

Harry: Okay I have everything.

Harry: Send the address, please.

She sends the address, and Harry follows the same routine as the last time, nearly eating shit as he flew out into his garage. Excitement bubbles in his guts at the same increment and volume of his motorcycle’s initial purr. Flipping open the back compartment he usually stores things in, he realizes that there is no way it’s all going to fit inside, so he turns on his heels to grab a backpack from inside and then he realizes that he’s not wearing any shoes. The smooth, grey floor is cold against the arches of his bare feet, and his brows furrow at his own insolence. Had he been so wrapped up in… everything that he didn’t put on shoes?

Rolling his eyes at his own actions- and feeling a little embarrassed that he’d let it happen- Harry returned to his home and snatched up the first pair of fashionable compatible shoes within his reach (green converse the same shade of his sweater) and the backpack to place the white bag in ( a little redundant, but he didn’t think holding it while he rode would be a good idea). Rushing back to the garage, he hoped that he wouldn’t come up empty with words like he had the time before.

The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away.

***

He was right about it being a party.

At least three minutes before he was flipping down his kickstand, the thundering bass of some rap song (he thinks he can hear ASAP Rocky, but he’s not too sure) shakes the streets and the trees. It’s a house party in a building that was too big to fit into the word ‘house’, but yet too small to fit in ‘mansion’. Toilet paper and trash litters the front yard while couples make out and loners smoke cigarettes, or maybe joints, out on the generous porch. Sports cars and beat up rides pack the driveway and most of the street in front of the house, so it makes it really difficult to station his motorcycle in an area where he has a clear view of who’s coming in and out of the house, and therefore, really hard to spot y/n.

That is until-

“Hi, Harry!”

She’s sitting down on the curb with her arms around her legs and her chin on top of her legs, looking… scared. Her eyes were blown open like a newborn doe, and the sprawl of her limbs as she unravels from her sitting position to a wobbly stand mimics the shaky, knocking knees of a filly that is learning how to walk for the first time. Her voice is even headier than it was the last time he heard it, like windchimes in the spring chill.

Harry’s eyes roam over her with no attempt to conceal his blatant appreciation for the fuzzy sweater falling down to her mid-thigh. They seem to have become a pattern with her. This time, it’s a baby blue crew neck and a pair of jeans, and y/n’s has tried to tie her hair up into a bun at the back of her hair but spiky pieces stick out the back and tendrils swap her ears, making her look like a soft, smudge-y dream.

“Hello,” he says softly, not needing to clear his throat this time. He steps forward a bit, so he can hear her better (or at least that’s what he tells himself), “s’good to see you again.” Harry’s words are louder and more amicable than the last time he greeted her, and his lips part in a crooked friendly smile which she returned with the same tentativeness. There’s something off about her this time around. She’s pulling at her sleeves and shifting her feet, glancing over her shoulder as soon as she’s standing straight and her eyes won’t stand still on Harry’s figure for more than a few, burning seconds.

“It’s good to see you, too! I hope I’m not waking you up every time I text, though,” an exhaled laugh left her lips, and she dropped her gaze down to her shoes. Y/n rocked on her feet, once and then twice. “I think I’ve… I’ve made a habit of texting you late at night.”

And he blushes, “I- uhm… I was having a hard time sleeping, so you didn’t wake me. It’s fine.”

If only she knew that he was having a hard time sleeping because his subconscious was a bothered brat over not seeing her again. Pleading words of requests to ask her never to stop texting him were dancing on the tip of his tongue, banging against his barricaded lips and begging to come out. However, he didn’t think such daring words were fitting with their barely budding relationship. They were pitiful and needy, like a puppy, and frankly, Harry didn’t want to present that image.

“Oh,” she stilled her movements, checked over her shoulder again and then looked him in the eyes and said, “are you okay?”

“M’fine, yeah. Just got a lot of you on my mind at the moment,” he says. It makes y/n furrow her brows and tilt her head at him like a little cat, only then that he realize what he has said, “Things! Got a lot of things on my mind. Sorry,” he clears his throat, looks away while hanging his helmet on the handle of his ride. “Haven’t been sleepin’ much.”

“Aw, I’m sorry. That sucks,” y/n pouts. Pouts at him. And he just blinks. Doesn’t smile or laugh.

“S’alrigh’. Y’got quite a large order this time. Havin’ a party?” As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to slap his palm against his forehead. He probably sounded stupid, given there was clearly a raging party going on in the house behind her. Of course she was having a party, what he should’ve said what ‘what are y’celebrating?’ or ‘are you here alone?’. Like the ‘do you have a date?’ kind of alone.

“You got it right? Thank you. And… something like that, I guess. I’m a bit nervous, honestly, because I’ve never…” She shrugs, looking away from him and back to the house.

“Never been to a party like this?” He’s confused. Surely he can’t mean that she’s never smoked before? Right? Because if that were the case, then what did she do with the weed he gave her last time? And what was she doing at a party were they were on this much drugs.

“No! No, no, I’ve never… smoked before.” She’s adamant in shaking her head. Her hands too, splayed wide like jazz hands.

“Y’never smoked before? What about last time?” Harry hates how it sounds as though he’s accusing her, but he can’t seem to control the way his words are coming out of his mouth, not around her, and it’s making him look like a dick. What he wants to do is smile and tease her, to find some way to ask her if she would like to share a joint with him without sounding too sleazy.

Shaking her head, “those were for my roommate and his boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Harry’s heart pitter-patters in his chest, his mouth in a straight line, and although there’s an abundance of emotions elbowing against the other in his chest, he shows none of them.

“Yeah,” awkwardly, she shifts her weight from heel to heel, arms crossed before reaching into her pocket and bringing out a folded wad of cash. “$540, right?”

“That’s right, but…” C’mon man, he scolds himself, pull it fucking together. This is a concerning situation. Surely she can’t be buying this much this time and not plan on participating. “Are you gonna be a’right?”

Worrying her lips between her teeth, she lets out a deep breath before answering. Smiling and nodding as she answers as if she wants to convince herself, “I think so. How hard can it be?”

“Pretty hard if it’s y’first time, sweetheart,” Harry forces himself to smile a little, but instead it looks as though he’s grimacing. “Will y’friends walk y’through it?”

Y/n looks back at the house again, and shuffles her feet. She’s got a sad little look in her eye, droopy and shy. Great. He was making her uncomfortable. “They’re n-not really my friends,” she says, “but I guess so.”

What? “What?” The word is sharp in his mouth. What the fuck was she doing, then? Hanging with people that she didn’t look all that enthused to be with, buying their weed, standing out here all alone?

“They’re not-”

A male comes out of the house, red solo cup in hand, and he’s not wearing a fucking shirt. He’s waving a hand in the air, trying to flag y/n down Harry assumes, and he’s offended for her. Harry’s brows furrow and his hands curl into fists behind his back. Why isn’t he wearing a shirt? What the fuck is he drinking and why is he being so disrespectful interrupting their conversation this way? All for some weed?

Now on the last step, the guy shouts, “Y/n, what’s taking so long?”

The poor girl jumps, startled, and her eyes go wide. “Sorry, I’ll be in soon!” Y/n shoves the money at him, frazzled, and takes the paper bag from his hands. “Here's $560, Harry. The rest is a tip. You can count it if you’d like!”

“It’s alright, here you-” she’s already bounding away from him, but he doesn’t want her to go, and somehow, he finds the will to call her back. He just wanted her to look at him once more, because she wasn’t even inside yet, but he missed her gaze. “Y/n!”

She stops, and he gets exactly what he wants. Her attention. “Yes?”

Harry swings a leg over his motorcycle and gets ready to leave before he does anything stupid like… like trying to hold her hand or something. Who knows, he lost his ability to act his age around her. “Have a water bottle at your side,” he’s mumbling almost, “and don’t take too much in on your first try. Exhale and don’t freak out when y’start coughing. Or embarrassed. It’ll be okay. And… and do y’best to relax.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

And y/n smiles at him.

It’s small, and it’s meek the way a feral kitten approaches a human with food. Scared, and rightfully so, because Harry wants to scoop her up and take her home.

“Of course. Have a safe night.”

She nods and walks away with another piece of his heart in her hands.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff oneshot #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles smut imagine #harry styles fanfic

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joels-shitty-puns · 1 year ago

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Could I make a request please?

Either a Joel or Pedro x Reader, where he is head over heels for the reader who is really bubbly and sweet and happy and a mom friend for everyone but who is oblivious to any romantic overtures whatsoever? And where Joel or Pedro catch them crying for the first time ever and they try and hide it and go back to cooking for the friend group or whatever and Joel/Pedro get the reader to open up about what made them cry and essentially it's that someone turned them down on a dating app and it's just further confirmation that the reader will never find love or actually be a mom? Plus-sized reader preferred but definitely not required? And your choice on if it's smutty or not.

I've been reading your plus sized reader x Pedro series and loving it!!! So much emotion and genuine positivity that I couldn't help but ask for more when I felt a bit down about this today.

All my best!

Dear @jenniferpendragon,

Hi!!! I've never had a request before, I didn't know what to do with myself. Thank you. And thank you so much for your kind words about my musician fic! I'm so glad people like it.

I'm sorry you were feeling down today. If by "this" you mean you experienced the dating app situation, I'm so sorry. Love is out there for you. I know how hard it is to wait, feeling like nobody wants you, but I know it'll happen. Hang in there. ❤️

I hope you like this fic! I liked your prompt and my mind ran wild. It's way longer than I thought it would be and also I'm unsure about it, but hopefully it makes you feel a little better.

___________

Cookies 'n Scream

Pairing: No-Outbreak!Joel Miller x Plus-sized!Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!! MDNI. Poor body image, fat shaming, food guilt, food mentions, unprotected P in V, oral, kissing, fingering, pregnancy mention, baby making sex (?), I think that's all of it but if I missed something let me know.

Other stuff: Reader is AFAB. In case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

This is the first smut I've ever written and published, yikes. Hope it's decent.

__________

"Look what I bought today," you chimed in a sing-song voice while waving the DVD in front of Joel.

"No way. Zombie Slayer 6?!" Joel and Tommy yelled in unison.

"Yep! You know it!" you beamed. "I say tonight we pop this bad boy in. Tomorrow's Halloween, it's perfect."

"YES!" chimed in Sarah and Ellie, Joel's daughter and adopted daughter, roughly the same ages in their early teens.

"Absolutely not! You two are too young for this gore, you'll be up for weeks." Maria pointedly gave an eyebrow to her husband Tommy. "You guys watch the movie, I'll take the kids and we have a girl's night. We can watch Practical Magic and make cookies. Then tomorrow we'll all go trick-or-treating." The girls were pleased with this compromise and began running up to their bedrooms, chatting frantically about their costumes and which houses were allegedly going to have full-size candy bars this year.

"Really? Zombie movies? They're just kids. They aren't old enough to deal with that kind of thing," Maria said to you, judging your lack of parenting skills.

"Sorry…" you said sheepishly.

Truthfully, Halloween was your favorite holiday and always has been. You loved the spooky aspect of it, but you also loved that you could be anyone you wanted, if only for a night. For once you weren't just "the fat girl" or whatever other mean things people thought about you. You could be Wonder-Woman, or Ariel, the Grim Reaper, or a ghost. You could even eat all the sugary snacks you wanted and nobody questioned it, because Halloween was a time to indulge in candy.

If there's one thing you're sad you didn't get to enjoy on Halloween, it was the thought of being with someone you love. You'd always wanted someone to dress up in a couples costume together. Or go to a pumpkin patch for a cute little date and pick pumpkins together. You'd even dreamed about someday having a little pumpkin of your own. Picking out a little baby costume, taking them out door to door while they tried to say "trick or treat" but didn't quite know how to say such big words yet. The thought of them getting spooked by a scary decoration and running back to their daddy's arms. Your handsome brave husband, holding them close and shushing them, rubbing their little back to make it all okay. Finally the three of you would go home, tuck the little one in, sort through the candy and maybe take some for the parent tax. Then you'd flop down on the bed together before sharing a different kind of treat.

Knocking you out of your daydream, the girls ran down the stairs, backpacks on their backs, still loudly chatting about Halloween. You sighed, Maria taking the kids out towards her house.

Tommy clapped his hands together excitedly and grabbed his phone and keys. "I'm picking us up a pizza. You two better not start this damn movie without me," he warned, gesturing with his fingers from his eyes to yours and then across to his brother's before ducking out the door. You laughed and headed towards the kitchen, starting to make a quick batch of cookies before Tommy returned. Joel stood awkwardly trying to help, but mainly was just sneaking bites of dough. "Knock it off Joel! There won't be any cookies left with you around." You elbowed him while he popped another glob into his mouth with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes while he argued with you. "Whatever. My brother doesn't need these cookies anyway. He doesn't deserve your bakin', darlin'." He ate more dough.

You couldn't help but feel your chest flutter with butterflies at his nickname, but you tried to ignore them. "Oh yeah, and what about me?" You pouted up at him. "Don't I deserve any cookies?"

He put his finger on his lip as if deep in thought. "Hmmm… I dunno darlin'. Not sure if I could handle you if you get much sweeter." He winked.

"But I guess you deserve some too.." he plopped a wad of dough into your mouth, running his finger on your lip as he pulled his hand away.

You smiled, cheeks feeling warm, and chewing the soft, sugary dough.

"Oh, Joel. You're too much.." you avoided his eyes, looking down at the mixer and pretending to be busy with the cookies.

Why can't I get a man like Joel? You thought to yourself.

Two years ago, you had moved into your new house and met your neighbors, Tommy and Maria, Maria still very pregnant at the time. The three of you became fast friends and it wasn't long before you met Tommy's brother Joel. You were instantly enamored with him. His curly brown hair, mixed with silvery gray streaks, and those deep, gorgeous chocolate brown eyes. Although he could be a grump at times, it was mainly with his brother or his job, and he never showed it towards you. To you he was as sweet as the cookies you were eating.

You instantly developed a little crush on him and it seemed like he was over at his brother's house, or yours, more often than not. The two of you spent time together alone as well, watching movies, talking, doing whatever. Things felt so simple with him, and you knew he would always be there if you needed help with anything. With him, you never felt fat. You never felt ugly. You didn't feel self-conscious. You were just you. He was just him.

As your friendship progressed, your crush developed quickly into love. But you knew deep down there was no way he could ever feel the same. He was too handsome and charming to ever go for a woman like you, so you pushed down your feelings as best as you could, and even tried some dating apps to try and find someone else to fill the empty space in your heart.

What you didn't know was that Joel was absolutely head-over-heels, smitten with you, from the moment he laid eyes on you at his brother's backyard barbecue. Sure he loved his brother, but nobody wants to spend that much time at their sibling's house. He came over constantly, hoping to see you, until eventually you became close enough that he didn't have to make a scene at his brother's house to get your attention. He could just go to yours.

Tommy constantly teased him about it, and Maria couldn't help but notice the way you looked at Joel either. Even the kids could tell. The girls loved you like a mother, though you'd never see it. It seemed that it was obvious to everyone but you and him. Joel would flirt, try to gently touch you, be sweet, but you never picked up on it. Although you never pushed away his attempts, you never seemed to reciprocate either, so Joel just figured you didn't like him that way. But he couldn't help flirting, touching, staring at you. And if you didn't protest, he didn't plan to stop. He couldn't if he tried.

While the two of you talked, the cookies, what was left of them, baked in the oven. Finally Tommy came in, two large pizzas in hand. "Now I better not see that movie playing! I warned you two."

He noticed the black television screen and wandered to the kitchen. "Good. You waited for me- oh man! You made cookies? My favorite," he said with grabby hands towards the first pan, still cooling on the stove.

"Now, don't spoil your dinner. You just brought pizza home, let's eat." You shot a knowing look with Joel after the two of you were practically full already with cookie dough.

"Fine. Whatever, mom." Tommy took a plate from you, sliding a piece of pizza onto his plate and heading towards the couch.

_____

An hour into the movie, you were all full with pizza and dessert, Tommy in the sofa chair on the side, you and Joel settled into the love seat. You leaned towards his right side, his right arm over the back of your seat. A blanket covered the two of you, and his left hand was crossed over his lap on top of the blanket, hoping you would hold it if you got scared. Whenever a jump scare did happen, you didn't grab for him, but at the slightest flinch, he would palm your knee, rubbing his thumb over you to calm you down. Such a nice guy. I'm so lucky to have him as my friend.

Once when Joel did this, Tommy caught the sight out of the corner of his vision. He rolled his eyes and gave a gagging face. Joel gave him a quick angry brother stare that made Tommy turn back toward the film.

At some point, you felt your pocket buzz. Peering under the blanket at your screen, you saw the little heart notification, letting you know it was one of the dating apps you downloaded. Heart beating faster, you excused yourself saying you wanted to get a drink. Upon entering the kitchen, you quickly opened the notification with shaky hands. You had sent out at least a half dozen matches to people, all turned down the second they saw your profile. The most recent had sent a message as well. "Seriously? Ur gross. Good luck finding anyone to date you lmao." Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked down at your body and pinched the fat of your stomach. You had four apps and had sent countless requests, matches, and swipes. Even guys who were big themselves had turned you down. You looked in the kitchen at the pile of cookies, the mostly empty pizza boxes, the bowl of Halloween candy. If the boys weren't here, you'd toss it all in the trash. You suddenly felt self-conscious. Your clothes were tight, your body was heavy and flabby, and you almost felt nauseous. The first sting of tears welled at your eyes, and you dashed off to your bedroom, hoping to quell these emotions before anyone would notice. You weren't ready to go back to the living room.

After a couple minutes, Joel had paused the TV to wait for your return. "She probably had to pee or something. Said she was gettin' a drink." Tommy nodded and the two of them talked. After about ten minutes had passed, Joel began to worry. Even Tommy began to wonder and finally said "where'd your girlfriend end up? It's been a while."

Joel shook his head at Tommy's name for you, but got up off the couch. "I'll go see what's up." He walked into the kitchen and didn't see you, so he kept walking through the house before finally starting upstairs. "Darlin'? You okay?" He still didn't see you, but upon approaching your bedroom door, he heard a soft sniffle.

He gently tapped on the door with his index finger's knuckle. "Sweetheart?" Your sniffling stopped and you quickly wiped your eyes, trying to hide your tears as he slowly opened the door.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to make you guys wait, I was just changing into some comfier clothes." He noticed you had switched from your favorite dress to some sweats and a baggy hoodie. You still looked beautiful to him, though he was a bit confused at the change. "I'll be right down, why don't you go start the movie again." He crossed the room to sit next to you on the bed. "I'm not going to start the movie. What's wrong, darlin'?"

You pouted, trying to choke back more tears, but his gentle brown eyes made it hard to keep your emotions inside. Joel cupped your cheek, running his thumb gently under your eyes and catching a tear that made it past your walls. You'd never cried in front of Joel before. You made it a goal of yours to try and hide any sad emotions from people, especially him.

"I don't want to ruin the night, Joel. It's nothing. Let's just go back downstairs. I'll be right behind you."

Joel stood up and nodded his head, walking out the door and closing it gently behind him.

You didn't think he'd actually leave. But it shouldn't surprise you. Who wouldn't leave you?

An aggressive sob ripped through your chest.

_____

Joel walked downstairs, joining his brother.

"You find her?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah I did. Look, she's not feeling too good right now. I think it's best we call it a night."

"Ah, man. She sick or somethin'?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah somethin' like that. I'll stay and take care of her. Can you maybe keep the kids tonight?" Joel answered, ushering Tommy out the door. Tommy gave him a look, but nodded and walked out the door towards his own house.

Joel closed the door behind him and walked back upstairs, stopping to grab a glass of water for you on the way. He knocked gently again before entering your bedroom, and you turned around, surprised to see him. "Joel? I thought you were watching the movie?"

"Nah, darlin' I could never leave you when you're upset. I sent Tommy home and he's gonna watch the girls tonight. Here, I brought you some water." He sat the water on the nightstand. "Now, you wanna tell me why you're cryin'?" He sat next to you, rubbing your back gently.

You took a sip of the water, set it back down on the nightstand, and sighed, looking down at your hands in your lap which held your cell phone.

"Well, I uh…" you cleared your throat gently. "I recently joined some dating apps..."

Joel's heart took a slight stab, but he pushed it down. You're the one needing comfort, not him.

"I guess, I dunno… I know it's kinda silly, but I've been feeling kinda lonely and y'know... I'm getting older. I'm running out of time to have babies. But, I really just want someone to call mine. Someone to laugh with and go on dates with and…" you tapered off, not wanting to admit your desire for cuddles, kisses, and love-making.

"Oh, sweet girl," he held you in his arms. "That's nothing to feel shy or silly about. It's natural to want those things. But why are you cryin'? Did somethin' happen?"

"I just… I haven't gotten any matches. Everyone I've sent anything to has denied me, and-" you sniffled and Joel pulled you tighter. "Shh, shh, sweet girl, it's okay. Those people on those apps, they don't know what they're missin' out on. They don't see how beautiful and sweet y'are. They wouldn't know how to treat you right anyway. If they can't see how wonderful you are, they don't deserve to be with ya anyway."

"Thank you Joel…" you muttered. "But… it's not just that. I got a message when we were watching the movie and I went into the kitchen to read it, and-" you handed him your phone with a sniffle. Joel pulled away from you, holding the phone back a bit to read it with his bad vision. As he read it, his jaw and fists clenched. It may have been the first time Joel saw you cry, but it was also the first time Joel got angry when it was just the two of you.

"If I knew where this asshole little boy lived, I'd go over there right now and kick his ass for saying something like that to you" he seethed. "I can't believe anyone would say something like that to you."

You picked at a hangnail on your finger, still staring at your lap. Finally Joel took a breath and looked at you again. "Darlin'. You don't - you don't believe that guy do you?" He asked while rubbing your back again.

"Maybe…" you felt tears run down your cheeks. "I mean, he's right, isn't he? I'm not attractive or skinny. Nobody wants me, not even any of these guys on this app. Even the guys who aren't skinny don't want me either."

"Sweetheart. That's just not true. Look at me-" he lifted your chin with his left hand, right arm still holding you close. You hesitantly met his gaze, your wet eyes looking into his gentle browns. "Those men, if you even wanna call them that, they wouldn't know what beautiful was if it slapped them across the face. You're the most beautiful, sweet, funny woman I've ever met. Any man would be lucky to have you." He took a deep breath before admitting, "I'd be lucky to have you."

"What-?" You interrupted him.

"Darlin'... I never want to push your boundaries, but you don't see how often I flirt with you, tease you, and touch you? You don't see how smitten I am with you?" You frowned, brows furrowing as you picked through your memory. "I thought you were just a nice guy. Just a friend. I didn't… I didn't think you could ever like me as more than a friend, so I just ignored the butterflies I got around you."

You searched his eyes, waiting for a joke, or your alarm to go off and wake you up from this dream.

"Sweetheart, I've been in love with you since just about the time I saw you walk across my brother's lawn towards me. I just figured y'wasn't interested in me that way."

"Joel," you laughed. "I've felt the same way."

He smiled, once again tilting your chin, yet this time pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was gentle, but held so much love and meaning, that the two of you couldn't help but smile in the middle of it. He pulled away, "and by the way, y'aren't old either. If anyone's old here, it's me. But if you want babies, I'll give you all the babies you want. But you already got two girls who love you. Sometimes I think they even love y'more than me," he laughed.

You smiled at him and nodded "I do love those girls like they're my own. But I would still like a little baby someday too."

He kissed you again, more passionately this time, licking your lip until you opened up and let your tongues dance together. He pulled away, running his nose across your jaw before stopping at your ear. "Only one way to give you that, darlin'." He gently bit your earlobe before kissing down your neck.

You sighed. "Joel… please."

"Please, what darlin'?" He purred, kissing your clavicle through your baggy shirt.

"Please, make love to me" you answered breathlessly, tipping your head back so he could better access your neck.

"Take these baggy clothes off then, baby. Lemme see you," he gave you one last kiss on the lips before the two of you began undressing, stopping every few seconds to share grabby kisses. Once undressed, he pulled you into him and kissed you deeply, your hands on his chest. With a swift move, he tumbled the two of you sideways so that you were now on the bed, him on his back and you straddling his hips. You leaned down, kissing his lips, while the slight movement against his waist caused you both to moan at the feeling. "Baby I've wanted this for so long. Let me take care of you," Joel whispered, thumb stroking your cheek. He flipped the two of you over, slithering down towards your waist, where you spread your legs for him. He groaned, looking at how evident it was you wanted him, pumping his already hard cock a few times. Flattening himself on his stomach, he gently touched your thighs and began to kiss your legs. "Y'sure you still want this, baby?"

"Yes Joel, please" you answered, tense with anticipation. Without a beat, he tipped his head down, licking a stripe up your slit. You let out a sigh, hips bucking toward his face. "I know baby, I know." His low timbre vibrated through your core. He gave a quick peck to your clit before swirling his tongue around it and heading downwards, licking between your folds while his nose continued to put pressure on your clit.

His fingers slid through, touching your entrance in a questioning way. "Yes, Joel, please" you cried, wiggling closer, your hands tugging at his hair.

With your pleas, he inserted his finger, curling upwards before adding a second and finally hitting that spot inside you that made your breathing catch in your chest. He stroked, while still licking gently, occasionally sucking on your clit. Before long you were gripping the sheets with one hand, his hair in your other, as you finally tumbled into your orgasm. "So beautiful, baby" he coaxed, licking you through the waves of pleasure.

"Think you're ready for me?" He looked up at you over your plush tummy. "Yes, Joel, please I'm so ready."

He stalked over your body, kissing his way up. He kissed your vulva, "I love this," he purred. He kissed your stomach, running his hands across your sides. "I love this," he licked. "I love these," he massaged your breasts, kissing each nipple. "I love you" he finally looked you in the eyes, kissing you on the lips deeply.

"I love you too." You kissed him back, running your hands through his messy hair, down his broad shoulders and back. His hand snaked around, grabbing his cock and giving a few strokes through your folds until he was wet enough. Finally he pushed against your entrance, slowly entering you, giving you enough time to adjust to his size. Your fingers clawed at his back as he finally pushed all the way in, the two of you sighing in relief.

Your body adjusted, and with a kiss to his nose, you prompted him to move. "Okay Joel, I'm ready."

Slowly, he began to thrust, pulling slowly out and gently pushing back in, eventually picking up to a pleasurable pace. He kissed you like his lips couldn't be away for longer than a few seconds, and it didn't take much before you were barreling towards your second release of the evening. "I'm almost there, Joel" you kissed, grabbing him around his back. "Me too, baby. Come for me." His thrusts were getting sloppy, but you could tell he was holding himself back for you. His fingers drifted over your clit, giving a few circular strokes and causing you to shudder around him, your eyes slamming shut with a moan. He followed right behind you, a couple messy strokes before pumping into you, filling you up and working you both through it. As the two of you came down from your high, he kissed you passionately, holding you like you were the only thing in the world.

The two of you lay on your sides, you snuggled into his chest, his chin resting on your head before eventually he became soft and slipped out of you. You both sighed at the loss, but held each other until you rolled out to use the restroom and clean up. When you returned from the bathroom, you asked if he wanted to stay and he said yes.

You lent him an extra toothbrush and the two of you stood side by side, brushing your teeth and stealing glances at each other in the mirror with matching lovesick smiles. Things felt domestic and comfortable as the two of you walked back to bed, sharing soft kisses snuggled to each other. Having completely forgotten why you were upset earlier, you fell asleep curled into his arms, full of love and hope for the future with a man you loved.

_____

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and breakfast cooking. You strolled down the stairs and saw Joel, wearing just his boxers and tee shirt, grabbing a slice of toast from the toaster.

At the sound of your steps, he turned and smiled softly. "Morning, baby."

"Good morning, handsome," you replied, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I could get used to that," Joel replied, squeezing your ass and pulling his face away to look in your eyes.

"Joel! You devil," you giggled, gently smacking his arm. "You ain't seen nothing yet, baby" he nibbled your jaw.

After the two of you ate breakfast, you shared a shower, and he threw on a pair of extra clothes he keeps in his car. It would be hard to keep his visit a secret from his brother with his car still in your driveway, but as far as Tommy was concerned, you were sick and Joel was taking care of you.

The two of you made the walk over to Tommy's house to get the girls and participate in Halloween activities for the day. Walking in the door, Tommy pulled you into a hug. "Hey, we were worried about you! Are you feeling better? Were you sick?"

You looked up at Joel, sharing a knowing look. "I was just a little upset about something, but I'm feeling much better now," you smiled.

Tommy gasped. "FINALLY!!!!" He threw his hands in the air while Maria grinned.

"Cough it up Tommy!" Sarah held out her hand to her uncle. "You know I had October." He handed her a five dollar bill.

"You bet money on us?" Joel asked in disbelief, rubbing your back.

"Obviously. You guys have both been pining since you first met," Ellie answered, rolling her eyes. "It was too entertaining for us to interfere though," Sarah added with a smirk.

You stared down at your shoes, feeling embarrassed, but Joel grabbed your hand. You smiled up at him and it felt like everything was aligned. "Yep, we finally took the step. And now I get to do this whenever I want," Joel pulled you into his arms for a deep kiss.

"UGH. GROSS, DAD." Ellie and Sarah groaned, walking out of the room.

You both laughed, sharing a smile and heading towards the group to get ready for Halloween with your family.

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shitpostingsapphic · 17 days ago

Text

Hi folks.

So it's come to my attention that there's a user on here by the name of @identityflawed and usually I'm not one to tag a user outright to inadvertently encourage strangers seeking them out, but this particular user is fine with doing such with others after, frankly, HORRENDOUS and UNCALLED FOR insults and hatred for the work they put in towards a piece of fan material. And they also prefer to be called outright. So, sweetheart, this one's for you.

This user has directly targeted the author of the popular and successful Caitvi fantiction titled "cerulean eyes for the wounded soul", a WWII based AU on our favorite lesbians, with Vi being an American fighter pilot and Caitlyn being a french countryside widow. What it boils down to is a whole lot of nothing words that slander the writing, insult the author, and have the audacity to say they could have done it better. So much so that they TAKE THE IDEA and "revamp it" to their liking.

Not only is their criticism completely unwarranted and not even criticism but more outright degradation of the hard work the author put forth, but it's a complete disrespect of the fanfiction community at large. Fanfiction comes purely out of the creativity of random people like me and you. Fanfiction writers aren't paid for their work, and thus the dedication required to even put out works like Cerulean Eyes should be commended. Needless to say, the work has been commended, due to its success.

I can only pinpoint the behavior of @identityflawed as that of a jealous and vindictive sorry excuse of a human being who has nothing better to do than tear people down while lazily stealing their ideas to compensate for their lack of creativity and their desperation to feel something besides insecurity.

You pretend to be a respectful individual by slapping a "no hard feelings?" equivalent of a statement at the end of a dissertation length hate letter TO THE AUTHOR about a work they dedicated months of time and energy towards. No sane person could ever call that respect. And implying that it's okay to harass an author to their mental health's detriment because "they should be strong enough to take it if they want to be on the internet" is, in a word, vile.

Darling, if you didn't like the fic, that's fine. Your vocal opinion is not needed. The possession of an opinion is not an indication that it needs to be shared. Learn some humility and keep your fucking mouth shut before you waste precious brain cells and oxygen that would be better used by other more deserving individuals.

I encourage anyone who comes across this post to block the user, and/or not to use abusive and violent language, but to feel free to speak your mind otherwise to them. They invited such words be directed to them. I see no reason not to fulfill their wishes.

Though, blocking might do the trick. The amount of traffic they get is meager at best. Jealousy is truly a hell of a drug.

(Images below for the post they deleted on the issue, in relation to the original criticism of the fanfiction, which you can find on their profile)

#arcane #caitvi #caitvi fanfic #fanfiction #caitlyn kiramman #vi arcane #arcane league of legends #violyn #caitlyn x vi

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the-100-days-of-junkan · 15 days ago

Text

Day 100

One hundred fuckin’ days. God. Actually happened.

I spent 3/4ths of the year drawing more Junkan art than I think anyone else on the internet ever has. Which might be presumptuous of me, maybe i’m just looking in the wrong places y’know? I’m a solid second place bare minimum.

And like, that’s still pretty funny right? This whole event is something I’m gonna cherish forever, the memories, the art itself, the friends I made because of it. But like, c’mon. I drew 100 fucking pieces, learned new skills like digital painting, animation, all that shit, for a ship that I used to hate, and a ship that for the longest time I thought was gonna get me fuckin banished to the deepest depths of the internet just for drawing a poor sketch of them kissing. This ship has become more deeply entwined into who I am as a person that it’s passed up Tokomaru, the ship that literally made me realize I’m a woman.

It’s gotta be at least a little funny, right?

Ah but enough of that, I can talk more on that subject a bit later. For now I reckon I should focus on our art piece for today! Wouldn’t you agree?

Yeah it’s the Wedding. I’d say even before Day 60 I decided the final pic of the Project would be The Wedding, even before I decided to draw a comic of the proposal. Because like, c’mon, it’s basic but how the fuck else was I supposed to end of the project? With something that ISN’T a wedding????

And very shocking to hear after this entire project has gone by, but I did in fact scale back this pic massively. You wanna know what the original idea was?? 22 images, each one depicting different parts of the wedding and afterparty, including the kiss at the end. And the kiss at the end? I was gonna feature every character from the 3 main classes + Ruruka, Seiko, and Yasuke. Fucking why??? Because Excess is all I know people ITS ALL I KNOW.

However I had decided that I wanted this project finished and ready before October, because I wanted to do the Vampire Fic to coincide with Day 30. And again, say it with me here, “Jem was severely burnt out on the project!”

So it went from 22 images, to “However many I can get done in time + the big group shot” and then that became “Just the big group shot,” and then finally, i cracked and just drew The Kiss.

Speaking of which before I divulge some more info about the original plan, i’ll get all the fun things about the actual art I did go through with.

As you can tell I shaded this differently from anything in the project. I normally have two different ways of shading art, I don’t think these are the proper words but I call them Soft Shading and Hard Shading. If you need immediate examples, Day 95 was Soft Shaded, and Day 94 was Hard Shaded. Generally speaking I prefer to do Hard Shading, as I think it works better with the rest of my style, and also just looks better in general. Soft Shading is what I do for pics with like, a very specific tone and energy to them that I can’t really put to words. It’s also significantly easier to do compared to Hard Shading.

A few months back for a commission of Kaede and Marceline from Adventure Time hanging out (yes this is relevant) I was trying to capture a very specific aesthetic that I’m obsessed with called Frutiger Aero. This mostly was in the background, however when lighting the pic I needed a very specific aesthetic that I didn’t know how to capture with just one of my shading styles. So . . . I fuckin did both. And in my opinion (which is crazy because this requires I compliment myself) it looked fuckin great. That said it was significantly harder.

I think I’ve done it only one other time after this, but I don’t remember what the pic was if it exists at all. But obviously as you can see, I decided that to really commemorate the occasion I’d go all out and do both shading styles again. It was very worth it, but fun fact! Doing this style on Roses is a fucking pain in the ass and if I ever have to do it again I will fucking SCREAM!

Anyway, the pic was definitely a lot harder to work on because of that stylistic choice, but the end result makes up for it by a massive margin.

Hope ya’ll like the dresses because they were the hardest part of this! Fun fact, Val (She’s back!) did a chapter for her legendary Year of Love and Despair fic where the gals are in wedding dresses. And the designs she came up with are amazing! I still really wanna draw em when I get a chance! However! I woulda felt bad if I just yoinked em for this, so I had to do everything in my power to come up with completely different designs. And given that I am a perfectionist, that was significantly more difficult than it probably shoulda been. But I did it! I really like how Mikan’s dress turned out specifically, I thought giving her a fit that covered up more skin than a normal wedding dress would be fitting for her. Also I really like drawing Mikan’s hair in a bun, I never had a chance to say that so I’mma say that now.

Wow fuck I just realized there’s probably a lot of random details or thought processes I have on this ship that I just never got an opportunity to talk about, either because I had a different topic to cover on previous posts, or I just forgot, or I just didn’t have a good segway! Crazy right?

Also yes! Shading Junko’s hair was heavenly~

Okay i’ve run out of words on the art. Time to tell you about everything I cut! Now I’m sad to say but no, I didn’t actually cut 22 planned images. I never got far enough to actually figure out each individual pic. Only a small handful, which I almost speedily sketched out for this post, but I don’t have it in me, especially on my current schedule. So i’ll just do my best to describe what I had in mind!

First piece would have been Mukuro being on Security for the Wedding, because of course. She would have also enlisted the help of Mondo and his entire gang, because that combination in this context sounds funny. Don’t worry though they were well behaved.

Ruruka was gonna handle the Wedding Cake, with Teruteru on the rest of the food. Either Ruruka or Mukuro would have been giving him a death glare during the process of course.

Behind the scenes Mikan would be getting prepped for the Wedding. And by prepped I mean Seiko, Ibuki, and Sayaka would be trying very hard to keep Mikan from crying as a result of how happy and overwhelmed she is (Ruining her makeup). Seiko trying to blow air into her eyes to keep them dry while Sayaka and Ibuki desperately try to find an outlet to plug in a hairdryer in because that would be significantly more efficient.

On the reverse, Junko would be doing all of the work on prepping herself for the wedding, with Ruruka, Yasuke and Tsumugi standing in the background, questioning why they’re even there. Junko would yell at them that they’re morale support in this instance.

Warriors of Hope would of course be there being scamps of course, Kotoko would be the Flower Girl because I play favorites. Toko and Komaru would probably be there trying to keep them in line.

I didn’t have anything in mind with the afterparty but I more than likely would have drawn the drunkest Junko I possibly could. Maybe even Mikan too!

For the Bouquet Throwing I was gonna have Syo jumping at it like a feral animal, and thinking about it now I’d probably also have Tenko jumping for it with killing intent in her eyes.

And I think that’s it for ideas I had prior to cutting them. Which means it’s time for me to get sappy about the fact that the project is finally ending! Fuck! Usually when I write these I try to have a decent idea ahead of time of what I’m gonna fucking say, this time however I’m just gonna talk, and i’m gonna keep talking until I’m either struck down by nature or I run out of things to say. Sorry!

This is going to get silly, sappy, and maybe even a little venty, jump in at your own risk.

If you told me at the beginning of 2024 that I was going to draw 100 days worth of Junkan related art, including a gif and a music video, 2 comics, and also get back into writing to make gay fanfic, I’d be so god damn confused. Because what the fuck right? And that’s not even counting everything I drew AFTER I fuckin finished! Like hold on a minute i’m gonna count up how many times i’ve drawn these two, including the individual comic pages from the three i’ve made.

204.

Fucking, I. I didn’t even know we passed 200 by this point.

And that’s not counting the sketches I’ve drawn on paper in my sketchbook. It’s also not counting unfinished pics. It ain’t counting the art I might draw WHILE writing this! It’s not counting the stuff I probably forgot about while searching my files cause I suck at naming the aforementioned files!

AND I’M STILL NOT BURNED OUT EITHER?

I got burned out on the project sure but the moment I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted I fucking IMMEDIATELY drew a Junkan pic for Halloween. And then I kept going, and then I didn’t fucking stop, and I don’t think I CAN stop! I don’t even WANT to stop but you’d think by now I’d be like “Well I don’t have any ideas right now-” NO I HAVE TOO FUCKING MANY IDEAS! I KEEP FUCKING THINKING OF MORE IDEAS, AND THEN I COME UP WITH AN AU AND THAT COULD HAVE LIKE 10,000 MORE IDEAS. JUNKAN IS A MENTAL HYDRA YOU DRAW ONE PIC 2 MORE POP UP IN ITS PLACE!

I can draw these pieces in like a few hours if not shorter, because I don’t have to fucking sketch them properly anymore. I feel like I shouldn’t be able to do that! This ship has done unspeakable things to both my mind and body! And i’ve said it before but i’m not trying to complain here, as you’ll see when I start talking about this ship like it saved me from falling into the grand canyon. But it’s just, so, absurd???

Danganronpa is only like my third favorite piece of media behind Bo-bobo and Fairy Tail and yet I’ve drawn more art of JUST THIS SHIP than I have of just general art of those series! That’s not even counting all the other ship art I’ve done! Like Tokomaru! Remember Tokomaru? The ship that is responsible for me being a woman and being able to find the happiness of being my true self? I think i’ve drawn that and Syomaru a combined like, 20 times across my entire life as a DR fan. ALL OF THIS JUNKAN ART SAY FOR LIKE, 5 OF THEM WERE IN ONE YEAR.

And bare minimum for 2025, assuming I don’t make ANYTHING ELSE OF THEM (Which I will. You know I will.) I’m gonna draw 21 pics for Junkan Week, because you know I’m gonna just draw EVERY prompt from all three lists. And then 30 more for the Month of Junkan (Will try to have that prompt list up soon btw!). So that’s 51 I’m going to do. That’s over half of what I realistically was supposed to do bare minimum for this project. That’s so fucking much, and I’m gonna do it, because I love this ship, and also it sounds REALLY funny if I did that.

I think genuinely the only other ships I could fucking do this for are like, Toko/Syomaru or Flarelu. Maybe Togachako if I did a reread of MHA to get me back in the spirit for that series. And even then i’m not sure I physically have it in me to go that distance even for those ships. I certainly want to draw a lot of them, especially Flarelu because that’s a ship so rare that it makes Soft Junkan (before I fucking flooded the tag on tumblr) look like a bustling city.

Speaking of tags, I still think about sometimes how like, the Junkan Tag maybe got like, a post like, a few times every month. The normal amount for a ship of this general Rarity. And now it’s like, for so many pages, just half of it is me. Because I was asked to bring something to eat to the function for the buffet table and I fucking crashed a Food Truck through the wall. I feel bad about it sometimes, sometimes. I’m imagining the scenario in my head where someone who likes Junkan but didn’t check the tag super often because it wasn’t like, a super commonly updated one, and then pressing it for the first time in a year and being like “What the fuck happened here?” You know what still shocks me? Not once have I gotten hate for any of this. I was so fucking scared for like half of this projects creation that I was going to get bombarded with people angry at me for shipping this, and NOTHING. I’m not complaining I’m just confused. I have to at least have had a few people block me right? It’s just so eerily quiet. And it’d be one thing if it’s just a thing of like “Why would people who hate Junkan check the Junkan tag” because yeah, that makes sense. But also I’ve been putting at least one Junkan pic in both characters tags every day for 3 fucking months, there had to be at least one Mikan super fan who is eternally fed up with my antics. Like, awesome that I didn’t get harassed over a ship, that actually gives me a little hope that nature is healing, just. Crazy right???

So like. Fuck.

I guess I’ll get to the sappy shit now?? I think I ran out of things to be confused about in terms of what I did this year because of this ship. So I guess I’ll just start talking about how much it means to me, both the ship, and this project.

(trigger warning, mentions of abuse, nothing super graphic in my opinion but could be mildly uncomfortable. Either skim ahead or stop here)

2024 kinda, fuckin sucked for me to be honest?? I have like 2 good things I can speak for it in terms of major positive points (Obviously I had other good experiences but if I just said “Oh I read a I Love Amy and it was one of the greatest things ever” it lacks the same impact). Not counting getting this project to like, work, obviously.

I finished the 5 chapters of my webcomic that I wanted prepped so I could actually make a website and start posting (ignore how I didn’t make the fuckin website yet). And I started dating my darling Yves and Rivette. Who I cherish deeply. I made other friends this year, a lot of them in part cause of this ship. And I went through a lot of emotional change.

But to get that change it required I unpack a lot. And by a lot, I mean one bag that was filled to the brim. Gonna try real hard not to like, talk about this in excessive detail or turn this post into some woe is me bullshit, but I feel like I should at least make mention of it.

At the beginning of the year, I asked Yves (who I wasn’t dating yet) about my previous romantic relationship. And she confirmed to me that, based on everything I had told her about it overtime, that yes, it was abusive.

During 2021-2022 I was in a relationship with a girl I won’t name here, you wouldn’t know her of course, it was a completely different community. It started out as friends, I got a crush, jumped at it because I was still inexperienced with feelings, and it didn’t work out. And that’s the simple way of putting it, and that’s how I viewed it till Yves opened my eyes.

From the getgo it wasn’t healthy. She was manipulative, constantly had outbursts towards me, and yanked me around emotionally constantly. I would later find out that she had a previous history of just, generally being an awful person. Even after we broke up we still stuck around each other, mostly because I felt guilty for breaking up with her, and was also just generally terrified of her. The abuse was all mental of course, it was long distance so she couldn’t hurt me physically at all.

I of course, didn’t process any of that as me being abused, I even viewed myself as being at fault for a lot of it. The experience was so bad that I identified as Aromantic because just convinced I wasn’t able to feel proper romantic feelings for someone. It wasn’t till much later when I got another crush that I realized that I’m Panromantic, and me being Aro (and very briefly Aegoromantic) was basically just a coping mechanism to write off my trauma. I still feel guilty about that since it feels like I devalued the importance of people who do identify on the Aro spectrum, but that isn’t relevant here.

Point is, a lot of bad shit happened to me because of that woman, and even after a year and a half of us not talking because we both mutually decided it would be better for us to not stay in contact, she still found ways to worm her way back into my life. One conversation we had just by chance, to catch up, that’s all it took and I was thinking of her again. I never talked to her after that, and I have her blocked now, but I didn’t need to for shit to hit the fan.

So I asked Yves that question, she answered, and I now suddenly had to deal with the fact that I was abused, and that I was traumatized as a result. And like, I never really viewed myself as a traumatized person up till that point, I viewed myself as someone who wasn’t very smart but tried her best to do good by people who didn’t have too much baggage beyond some sucky school memories.

When I had to unpack what happened that kind of spiraled into severe Self Confidence Issues and even more Self Hate. I struggled to accept even the slightest compliment if it wasn’t directed at my art. The reason I even quit weed is because I used it almost exclusively to suppress all of the negative emotions I felt.

I’m in a somewhat better place now, I’m trying to give myself more breaks from artwork, rather than overworking myself constantly just to feel something (and being fully open, I realized near the end of december that I pretty much used Overworking as a form of self harm). I’m gonna really try this year to like, actually let people be nice to me, and in turn try to be nicer to myself. And I have goals to work towards for this year. But I wouldn’t have gotten to this point without two things. One, my girlfriend Yves, who even before we started dating helped me through multiple breakdowns and has helped/allowed me to grow into a (I hope) better, healthier person. And even after I got over most of my feelings related to my Ex, has continued to help me cope with my self hatred. I cherish every moment we share and wouldn’t trade her for anything.

And the other thing, which I know will sound silly right after I talked about my girlfriend, is well. Junkan.

Let me say this, I didn’t get into Junkan to cope with my abuse. I have toyed with the notion in my head before and the idea of it pisses me off to a quite frankly irrational degree. I was into Junkan before I realized my issues. If you want my coping mechanism it’s Alex from Minecraft and no I’m not explaining that right now.

That said, it, like all the yuri ships I like, was a source of comfort for me. Originally I read stuff like Tokomaru fics just to help me reduce stress, back when I dealt with really severe anger issues due to the online spaces I occupied. And to this day reading a nice, fluff fic can calm me down a bit. But now they can serve a much deeper sense of comfort, away from all the bullshit, and obviously, gave me a way to distract/calm myself from the storm of negative emotions and memories that filled the brain.

I see myself in Mikan more than I’d like to personally admit, obviously not to the extreme, but in aspects. So it’s just, nice to see a better timeline for her with Junko, ones where she gets to be happy and maybe even heal as well. It just so happens that I also think there’s a lot of genuinely good potential for the ship from either a canon or non-canon perspective, and Junko’s just a really enjoyable character.

Working on this project helped too. It gave me a way to dive deeper into my love for this ship, and gave me a sense of purpose and validation that helped me work through the rough. Whether it was the really bad mental health days, or just a shit streak of commission work that tore away at me because my job even if I love drawing can be a real drag at times, and i’m unfortunately a workaholic (Trying to work on it though).

I think i’ve said it before but even something simple as Val showing her excitement over the art pieces I was prepping could genuinely brighten my day even while I was at my lowest.

And then when I really started pursuing this as a project, rather than just a secret stash to satiate myself and one other person minimum, I realized I could do something good here. For the people like me who loved this ship but might have been too nervous about expressing it, the people who were just really craving it, and the people who had already made all of the fics and art that sent me into this spiral of obsessive passion in the first place! A gift to all of them, to make ya’ll happy.

In hindsight, may not like, the healthiest mindset for setting off this whole project. But hey it all kinda circled around into eventually helping my mental health recover. So like, win?

And i’ve already spoken on how Day 60 allowed me to feel a lot more emotionally free as an artist even if I still have my struggle days. I’ve gotten better just in general as an artist as I improve more at stuff like expressions, posing, linework, etc. And I’ve even managed to make friends with some of the people I used to look up to as idols and can finally just view em as normal people now. (Even if I might still be a bit excessive in my praise, I swear I’m normal about ya’ll besties I just don’t have like, a middleground for showing my appreciation and affection for my friends. It’s maxed out unless I’m tired as shit)

I find myself comedically terrified of how this ship has affected me over the course of 2024, and how it will likely continue to affect me through 2025 even as I try to move onto other projects not related to Junkan. I wanna show off my love for Fairy Tail on my main blog, and I really think that with a full years time and the first five chapters done I really can get my comic off the ground and focus on that for the foreseeable future.

But hey, 2025 at least we got two whole Junkan Events. And with Junkan Week I’d like to keep that going for as long as I can, unless someone else takes the reins way down the line. So this ol’ blog’ll keep going for a good while I imagine, even if it’s a lot smaller. Maybe I’ll find other ways to keep this place active, I’ve considered just making it a one stop shop for all things Junkan though I don’t think I’m really suited to manage that. Maybe someone’ll read this and try there hand at it down the line, maybe someone’ll do their own 100 Days of Junkan!

Oh hey did I ever tell ya’ll I was gonna make a comedic video just making a guideline for how one could make their own 100 Days Project. It was gonna be like, pretty obvious points just framed in a very exaggerated and comedic tone.

Alright anything else I should cover? Fun facts? Deep personal anecdotes? Sappy stuff?

Lemme check my files, maybe i got another dumb joke image-

. . .

Oh . . . Well there’s somethin.

Alright, don’t get to excited ya’ll, but just for a bit of fun, how about one last day in the project. I know 101 days doesn’t roll of the tongue as well, but I think this is vaguely interesting enough to make up for that! Tune in tomorrow. Same time, same place.

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

#danganronpa #junkan #junko enoshima #mikan tsumiki #junkomikan #enomiki #junko x mikan #enoshima junko #tsumiki mikan #shipping

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its-time-to-write · 2 years ago

Note

Thank you so much for the response to my request <3. the fic was better then I could have hoped!!!!

I have a new request (but feel free to focus on the story themes you were wanting to do!), I have been really wanting to see a Jamie fic where he takes care of sick reader. Could be period or illness (no preference) and Jamie has no idea how to help but tries his best. I think its a cute idea

Can't wait to read more of your fics!

Thank you so much for requesting!! Literally love when people ask me to write things. Also, apparently everyone loves a sickfic because my other one has the most notes of everything I’ve written. Anyway, here’s your fic!

there’s orange juice in the kitchen

You are not sure of much, but you know one thing: you’re in pain. It’s 2am, and you’ve gotten a grand total of two hours of sleep. You’ve given up on laying in your bed and have filled up your bath with hot water, bubbles, and bath salts. Lots of bath salts. Your abdomen feels like it’s shredding itself and you suppose, technically speaking, it is. You’re just relieved that tomorrow is the weekend and you don’t have to slog through a work day, white-knuckling these absolutely ripping period cramps.

You don’t have regular periods like, ever, and your doctor’s concerned about your fertility. You remember waving it off with the statement, “That’s a problem for another day.” Thing is, that was just a cop-out. You didn’t want to think about it for a single second because then it would become real, and you make it a personal point never to complain about a period no matter how brutal it is because at least it’s something and never mind that your last one was four months ago, you’re ok. You have a good life and good people and you’re fine.

It’s just the principle, you know? The desire of choice.

The hormones don’t help either.

But anyway, you’re in your tiny bath trying to soothe the pain you’re in, trying to make yourself tired enough to fall asleep once you get out. You breathe, in, out. In, out.

You’re up till 6am when you finally doze off.

—

You wake up in a sweaty haze. You’re in soft pants and a large t-shirt, on top of your sheets rather than in them. You reach for your phone then pull your legs in with a sharp gasp. You’re still in pain.

It subsides so you reach again and check the time. 9:01. You groan. Three hours of dubious sleep is not enough. You have a missed text from Sam (remind me which brand of kitchenware you use?) two missed texts from Keeley (look at this absolutely adorable puppy! Attached: 1 Image), and a missed call from Jamie.

Ah, right. Jamie.

Your boyfriend.

Who you were supposed to meet for breakfast exactly sixteen minutes ago.

Shit.

You call him back and he answers on the first ring.

“Hey love!” he says. “You alright? Not like you to miss breakfast.”

You grimace. “I uh, I wasn’t feeling well last night and I haven’t slept very good. I forgot to text you. Didn’t fall asleep until 6.”

“A.M.?” Jamie asks and you reply to the affirmative. He lets out a long “shiiit,” followed by a, “how contagious are you?”

“For you? Not very,” you say. “For another girl, incredibly contagious, although some say that’s an old wive’s tale.”

Jamie is silent in confusion, then- “Ohh, I get it! You’re not sick-sick, you’re on your fucking period.”

You chuckle, despite remaining curled up on your side.

“Yes,” you reply, “My fucking period. I feel nauseous and tired and I am bleeding so. Much. It’s like my body’s making up for the last four months of nothing.”

Jamie’s silent for a moment and you internally cringe, kicking yourself for over sharing. You haven’t been together that long, about a month and a half, and he doesn’t need to know that about you. He’s a famous footballer, after all, and a guy’s guy. Probably gets grossed out about periods and stuff.

Then he says, “Can I come over? I’ll bring food,” and your worries almost completely evaporate.

“As long as you don’t care about how disgusting I am or the fact that I hurt a lot, sure,” you say. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

—

Jamie’s at your flat in 40 minutes, which is fast considering how much food he walks in with. He’s brought a bag of Chinese takeout, plus two overflowing grocery bags.

“This is for now, these are for later,” he explains. He’s in a pink sweatshirt with matching shorts and socks, and maybe it’s the damned hormones again but he looks hot. His hair is pushed back with a headband and you want him to fuck you. You don’t think you can convince him, though, what with the blood. And the fact that he’s Jamie fucking Tartt. And that he probably doesn’t do shit like that because it’s gross.

Your brain whispers, but he’s here, isn’t he? so you just push that thought down to live with other scary ones like, I will never have kids, or I’m going to live with this pain for the rest of my life.

Jamie is oblivious to this, just pulling everything out of the bags and chattering on. He’s kicked off his trainers near the door, and he hasn’t made any comments about the fact that you’ve wrapped a blanket around your shoulders like a shroud, or that your hair is in the messiest bun in the history of the world. Not the sexy, reader-insert fan fiction type of messy bun, either. Just an I-did-not-get-anywhere-NEAR-enough-sleep-last-night messy bun.

“-and me mum always drank orange juice, swore it helped with bloating or hydration or somethin’, I don’t really know, but I got some of that too and this tea that’s supposed to help with cramps, and also a shit-ton of chocolate because I didn’t know which kind was your favorite. I was thinking we can sit on the couch and watch a movie or play Animal Crossing or some shit while eating the takeout, then I can cook you a proper fucking meal later. Coach always says it’s important to have a balanced meal when you’re under the weather, and I think it applies to this too.” He stops when he notices you just looking at him. “You alright, babe?”

“Yeah, I just- why did you get all this?” you blurt out.

For the first time since you’ve known him, Jamie looks unsure of himself. “I dunno. I mean, I do know. You didn’t sound great over the phone, and Keeley’s always telling me to fucking listen to other people, and me mum was always the same on her period so I used to get her the things she wanted all the time. And-” he takes a breath, “and I picked up on what you said. The fuckin’ four-months shit. That ain’t good babe. Even I know that. And, we haven’t been together that long, but I’m pretty fucking sure you know that too, and I wanted to let you know I’m sorry.”

You’re momentarily fixed on the way he says certain words. Keeleh. Sorreh. It’s sweet, for some reason, and it causes a dull ache in your chest. You realize what he’s actually said to you and that ache deepens. You’d kiss him if you weren’t sure your breath was gross.

So instead, you settle for nodding and staring at your kitchen wall. That’s because option one is kissing and option two is crying. You can’t do either right now.

A traitor tear slips out your eye anyway, and you hope Jamie won’t see it. He does.

“Hey, hey.” He comes around the counter and pulls you into a hug, blanket shroud, messy bun, and all. “Love. It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re not alone, and we’re going to go sit on the couch and eat as much food as we can and then pass out, alright? We’re not going to think about anything else except what’s right in fuckin’ front of us.”

“That was,” you sniff, “weirdly philosophical. And very sweet. And I’m sorry for being disgusting.”

Jamie pulls away from you, and you think this is the first time he’s realized how gross you are.

“Don’t say that shit, babe,” he says, and you laugh before you realize he isn’t joking.

“I’m serious,” he continues. “You might feel disgusting, but you aren’t. You smell like fucking lavender, for Christ’s sake. Your pajamas are clean, and so’s your hair. Might be fuckin’ messy right now, but me mum also taught me to braid, so it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

You pull him back against you and let some more tears come out.

“Why are you being so nice,” you ask, voice muffled through his sweatshirt.

“Oh, dunno,” he replies, hint of a smile in his voice, “Think you’re fit. I like shower sex. You pick.” He pauses. “Maybe both. Heard that it can help with cramps.”

You laugh wetly into his chest. He’s warm and comforting, and so completely not what you expected him to be. You both stand in the kitchen for another minute, his cheek resting on your head before he says, “Oi, you hungry?”

“God, yes,” you say, “I could eat a fucking horse.”

“Good.” Jamie picks up the bulging bag of takeout and a roll of paper towels. “Lead the way, babe.”

—

It’s not until much later, after you’ve eaten, watched a movie, and showered (and all that implies) that you realize you’re finally tired. Finally calm. You let yourself relax on your bed in Jamie’s arms, breathing in his clean smell. In, out. In, out. By the third breath, you’re asleep.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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blackaquokat · 16 days ago

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First IF MCs Post!

So I've been playing IFs going on five years now, but I think I've only ever made one post about who they are, like, a year or two ago. They mostly only exist on the discord discussions or DMs with fellow IF fans because I also have no art skill (though I should post the Infamous fics I have in my drafts eventually--).

All that to say, getting a shoutout from @loveandleases herself (STILL RIDING THAT HIGH) has finally given me the kick I need to post about some of my MCs. This might open a floodgate for MANY of my OCs that I still yet have to talk about, so everyone beware!

(Picrews used will be credited at the bottom of the post)

First up, my Cam-mancer, Peridot "Dot" (last name tbd)! (Might change her eyes to hazel, but I'm keeping this picrew image for now.)

She started out very similar to my Infamous main, Genevieve, but now she's come into a life of her own. Has been hopelessly in love with Cam for most of her life, but resigned herself to just happily being his best friend (not knowing, of course, what the rest of us know about Cam--). Chris and Jade's betrayal stung, especially with what it solidified about the kind of people those two are, but I think a big part of her arc is realizing that she's not as heartbroken as she thinks she should have been about it. Then it's just her reconciling the years lost.

Anyway, she's a quiet, sweet woman, who normally doesn't mind not having attention on herself, but she's mostly become that way because of Jade demanding so much. She's also an artist, often preferring to spend evenings in the quiet, painting and sketching. I think she definitely has a stash of paintings she's made of Cam's pictures that she gives to him on bad days or his birthdays. She's a passable cook, but a far more enthused baker. It's mostly a calming activity for her when she's stressed, though her friends and loved ones certainly enjoy the results. The Clarke parents still talk about her pear custard recipe, even after the breakup.

She's still relatively new, along with the other MC I'm about to share, so I'll probably think of even more details as they grow and as the game progresses!

Anyway, now for Jumana, my G-mancer!

Jumana (last name also tbd) goes back to my usual trend with making MCs: she's of Lebanese heritage. She's a departure, however, because she's got grey eyes instead of brown like I usually give my Lebanese-coded MCs. She also met G during her goth phase in college (it slowly just turned to grunge), so this is the look that eventually grabbed G by the throat. She's not afraid to throw punches, but will try to talk people down first. Unless she's mad. Then all bets are off. Someone will be thrown across a desk. She is Very strong, and Very scrappy and she will not be fucked with.

Anyway, she's also a Literature Nerd and is almost always reading, especially in inconvenient spots. It drove G insane, because they never seemed to see her study in public, so HOW was she keeping up with their grades--

I do think, however, she's not a particularly ambitious person. I think she got high grades like G and that got under their skin and their reaction tickled her so much that she just. Kept trying to get high grades so she could keep getting a reaction out of them. Honestly, if G hadn't been there, she might not have tried so hard in college. But she definitely had a crush on them well before they probably realized their own feelings. Losing G gutted her, they were It for her. Chris was absolutely a rebound, and maybe a bit of self-punishment. Maybe a terrible part of her hoped being with Chris would one day get G angry enough to come back to her life, tell her to be with them, not Chris.

Now that Chris and Jade have royally betrayed her? Well. Jumana has ideas for making their lives miserable without her actually getting involved with them again, and that goes for her parents too, for their own betrayal--

I'm sure I'll think of more as time goes on, but in the meantime, these are my gals! Can't wait to see how they fit into the game!

Picrew used for the images:

#love and leases #kat's ocs #if games #this game is so damn gooood #i'm so excited to make more MCs for everyone else #now that i have Dot for Cam #I can use Genevieve to figure out what I want in an MC for Ardent #and i might use Quinn to find out Isaac or the Isaac x Kara poly--

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eliza-and-her-monsters · 3 months ago

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The Gods of Guilt

Julien Baker x Reader

Description: Vampire sources tend to live very privileged lives despite their essential role as a food bank for vampires to use whenever they wish. There tends to only be one rule though. Don’t fall in love with one.

Contains: Julien x high femme reader, vampire Julien, taller Julien, slight gore and discussions and depictions of blood. Supernatural au. Vampire x human trope. Slight insinuations of dom x sub aspects. Angst angst ANGST.

WC: About 2.9k

A/N: I know supernatural au’s are not for everyone but the moment vampire Julien was brought to my attention I KNEW I needed to do something about it because no offense, this fic community is seriously lacking in such. If this isn’t your thing and you think it’s cringey, I respect your opinion and you may scroll on! If you ARE into this however, I invite you into this self indulgent mess with me 😌

From the outside it appeared to be nothing more than your average gothic mansion tourists either stopped to gawk at or ran from… either way. The inside wasn’t much better, from gaudy reds and blacks to stained glass windows. Some of the older ones preferred it that way though, and overall they had the highest authority. So the reason why I was currently being sent to test the new prospect was news to me.

I wasn’t against it, she was pretty enough, one of those high femmes with the doe eyes. One of those ‘deer in headlights’ looks. I’d have barely noticed her during her first tour if it weren’t for those eyes.

“Congratulations.” I muttered the moment I swung the door open, the reflection of her image in the mirror pushed in the corner jumping in response. “You made it back.”

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or afraid.” She muttered in a small voice as she slowly spun to face me. My eyes raking over her body, a black dress accentuating her curves, long hair flowing down past her shoulders causing my eyebrows to furrow together as I took a step towards her flinching body.

“I prefer most of my girls afraid.” I whispered, her scent wafting into me the moment I breathed in. She was definitely afraid. “Are you here willingly?” It was always the first question I asked during interviews for any new prospects whether they’d be a short term vessel or a long term one. Already at at the sight of her I knew she was going to be a favorite amongst a lot of us. We never touched them until we got an explicit yes though.

Why anyone would want to be a source for those like us would probably be the first thing you’d ask. For a while after I was turned I wondered the same thing until I saw the benefits the sources were granted. We’ve paid off countless debts, medical, school, even fuck up debts. They had comfortable shelter, three meals a day, no rent or fees owed to us. They were free to stay or go at will. Nevertheless you still had people who wanted to take advantage of that though. Get all the perks of being a source without actually being one.

“I don’t really have any other options.” She answered, nervously fidgeting with her hands as she kept her eyes glued to the floor. “My family’s debts need to be paid off and I-”

“You do… have other options.” I interrupted, already seeing her eyebrows twist together in aggravation.

“Here maybe, not with them.” She replied, and I watched her wince even as I simply released a sharp breath.

“You know, rules tell me I’m supposed to leave now.” I began, clasping my hands behind my back as I carefully trailed towards her just in time to catch her stepping forward with a pleading expression etching in between her brows.

“Please.”

“I didn’t say I was going to.” I huffed, slowly raveling the sleeves of my black button-up upwards to the elbows. “Tell me, y/n… what exactly do you get out of this?”

“I, uhhh…” she seemed flustered, cheeks going red as her eyes scanned the inked skin of my arms as I watched the grip of her hands tightening around each other. “Shelter… away from my family.”

“You don’t want to be around them?” I wondered with a tilted head, watching her grow impatient with every question. I couldn’t help it though. I wanted to be thorough. I wouldn’t sink my fangs into someone until I knew I could help them in return. Some of the others thought I was too strict with that sort of thing. I didn’t care. Sometimes I thought they weren’t strict enough. “Then why do you want to help them?”

“Some people you have to love from a distance. They’ll destroy you otherwise.” She muttered, and I couldn’t help but hum in agreement.

“Good answer.” I began, crossing my arms as I slowly allowed myself to get closer. God, her scent was overwhelming. Citrusy raspberry and amber, playful with a touch of innocence. A curious type of innocence though. An openness. “What else?” I answered, trying to distract myself before I could get lost in it again, fall right into her open neck and sink my teeth into her soft skin.

“I- I don’t know what else. Secret mansion hidden in the woods doesn’t seem too unappealing-”

“You’re running from something.” I voiced, finally catching the real reason of the desperation. She tensed, though it was hard to keep a secret from someone of my sort I could tell it wasn’t going to stop her from playing her cards close to her chest.

“Is this an interrogation?” She stammered, taking a step back the moment I drew closer causing me to halt in my tracks. I still needed to maintain boundaries, some semblance of control even though the vein in her neck was starting to pulse louder.

“So I can determine if you need to stay here or if it’s best if we part ways now. So you can choose not to tell me… or you can, I’ll pull it out of you either way.” I murmured, finally letting myself retreat backwards as I pulled out a chair to take a seat.

“Seems a bit more invasive than the biting.” She admitted underneath her breath and I couldn’t help but to chuckle a bit to myself.

“Baby girl, you have no idea.” Her cheeks went red as I sat backwards, sitting like a typical man as I peered upwards at her. “So, would you like to try that answer again?”

I watched her throat bob with a gulp, could practically taste her sweetness on my tongue all the while. “It’s stupid, a lover scorned is all.” she murmured with a shake of her head.

“Can’t have been too stupid if you’re running from them.” I brushed off, watching her sigh in defeat as she shook her head, small arms wrapping almost anxiously around herself. “You’re safe here.” I whispered, probably one of the first genuine things I had said as I lifted myself back onto my feet.

“But you don’t even know me… or the story or-”

“Shhhh.” I hushed, watching her visibly relax at the command, slowly lifting a hand upwards to brush underneath her chin. Ever so slightly tilting her head backwards until I could peer into those piercing eyes. “You’re in my care now… and that’s enough for me.”

I usually felt guilty manipulating emotions, it was an ability I seldom used. However if there was ever a way I needed to it was now… not even just for my sake. “Come with me.” I whispered, sliding an arm around her shoulders that she surprisingly allowed.

“Does this mean I passed?” She wondered, a slight hint of confusion creeping into her expression as she peered up at me. “I can stay?”

“Yes, I think that would be best.” I sighed, almost partially in defeat as I pulled her towards the door. “Let me show you to your room. Then you’re free to leave and get the rest of your things and come back… but first, you need to be marked.”

“Marked?” She wondered, that same tenseness creeping back into her shoulders as I lead her down the long and twisting hallways. I felt a shiver sweep over her as I trailed my fingers down her spine.

“So the house recognizes you of one of ours, and you can come and go as you please.” I paused outside of a door before pushing it open to reveal one of the empty bedrooms. The source’s rooms were modest, dark crimsom velvet sheets covering the beds with room on the walls for them to hang up various claims if they wished, bookshelves, a desk, space for clothes, etc… we tried to keep them as comfortable as possible without taking up too much room but still enough to where they didn’t feel the need to leave if they didn’t want to. It still maintained its gothic flair with its stained glass windows… but thanks to my doing it still maintained its modernity as well. Something most of the older vampires despised.

“How do we do that?” She questioned, eyes lingering on the doorknob as I slid the door shut. And I watched her eyes widen knowingly the moment I glanced downwards at her slender neck. “I- already?”

The shake creeped back into her hands, watching her stumble a step backwards as if I was going to fling myself at her any moment. I at least knew restraint though. “If you’re not ready… you can always stay, or leave and come back.”

The girl seemed so hesitant, catching a pale bottom lip in between her teeth. I could tell her first instinct was to run, everyone’s first instinct was to after all. But nevertheless she stayed put, feet locked in the ground as if they had taken roots there. Now, as I was instructed, was the time to put my charm on. A vampire and its source had a very distinct intimate relationship. Sometimes they took it farther, I had always tried not to because I know what happened to sources whenever a bond took over. Too many times they drove themselves mad trying to be everything for their vampire. Too many times vampires didn’t care about their sources, never to that extent. And whenever they did it was seldom pretty. Nevertheless even whenever you didn’t care, you were always told to act like it.

“It doesn’t always hurt.” I spoke, fully knowing it probably wouldn’t sound right coming from me. Clearly I had to have had experience though, there was only one way you could be turned after all. And that, I could attest to, was definitely much more painful. Her brows furrowed, head tilting as if in confusion but she didn’t protest any farther. And I took her silence as encouragement to go on. “I can make you relax again, put you in a state to where you’re nearly asleep. In might sting, you’ll feel a bit of pressure… but it won’t hurt.”

I cautiously let myself draw closer towards her, picking up every hint of her scent… practically tasting her sweetness on my tongue. God, it nearly made me salivate at the thought. “For some though, it’s almost pleasurable.”

Her chin tilted upwards to meet my gaze, and I could practically feel her shiver as her eyes flickered from the teeth behind my lips back to my eyes. “This could be a terrible idea.” She voiced, and I couldn’t help but chuckle a bit to myself as my own eyes flickered to the vein in her neck that seemed to be calling me, beckoning me in closer.

“You haven’t run out screaming yet.” I added, cautious hands reaching for her waist all the while I waited for her protest, for her to jerk back, a jump in her pulse or any indication that she was absolutely not okay with what was happening right now. But she never did. In fact all I could feel was her own small hands trailing up my arms to slide around my biceps. Her warmth a stark difference to my cold. “I won’t touch you until I get your permission, but you’re getting a lot harder to resist.”

For a moment I nearly thought she was going to attack my lips and I would’ve allowed it even though I ultimately shouldn’t have. It was far too intimate far too quickly and for someone like me it could’ve been dangerous.

My breath hitched in a way it hadn’t before the moment I saw her brush her hair from her neck, “Be gentle, please.” She whispered, my hands balling into the fabric of her dress as I breathed in a whiff of her scent.

“Don’t let go of me.” I ordered, feeling the sharpness of my fangs poking through my lips.

I heard her cry out the moment I sunk them into her skin, a sound of pain or pleasure I wasn’t quite sure. Her arms tossed around my shoulders as I bent myself over to reach her neck. And the taste of her was more delicious than I could’ve ever imagined. Sweet but tangy all the same much like her personality, as if I had just bit into the juiciest fruit I had ever seen. I couldn’t get enough. None of my other sources had compared, could ever compare to her. And I didn’t know how to pull myself off.

I heard her whimper from below me, her body weakening against me as I lapped up every bit of her I could like a starving dog. ‘Julien… wait… what the hell are you doing?’

Finally the control kicked in, pulling my fangs from her bloody neck with a gasp as I watched her sway on her feet. Noticeably more pale I felt a hint of fear striking me as I held her up as much as I could. “Why did you stop?” She spoke, allowing me to slowly lower her quivering body towards the bed.

“I-I could’ve drained you!” I stammered, for the first time in forever finally understanding the anxiety of what it meant to lose control. The pure guilt.

“I wouldn’t have minded.” She winced just before I cupped my hand around her bloodied neck and brushed a thumb over it, watching the wounds stitch themselves together carefully.

“No, no absolutely not, we don’t drain our sources… we may push them but- do you understand what could’ve happened to you if you had someone that had even just a smidge less control than me!” She winced at my raised voice, immediately feeling that same pang of guilt in my chest as I peered down at her. “I’m sorry I- this is completely my fault and I shouldn’t be yelling. I understand if you want to leave. Th-This won’t happen again.”

I felt like I needed to drop my knees and grovel at her feet. My heart didn’t beat any longer but I swear I could feel it aching, clenching as if it had been revived. At least for now.

“I’m not leaving… so you can stop trying to get me to.” She spoke, watching her sleepily try and roll over onto her side.

“I still feel guilty-“

“I promise whatever you do to me isn’t going to be any worse than what they would out there.” She spoke, gesturing towards the window as if speaking about the outside world.

There it was again, that same tug on my heart that made me feel as if someone was trying to kickstart it again. Watching her as she held her neck as if in pain, trying to roll an ache out. “Here, let me help.” I gulped an anxious lump down, hating how afraid I was to lose control as I approached her again.

She shivered as soon as I placed my hand against her skin, watching her peer up at me through thick lashes as I sent a surge through her. Aching muscles and irritated nerves unraveling, layers of skin I had pierced through. But luckily vampires could heal just as much as they could destroy. It was just seldom that they chose to. “Better?”

She sighed, letting her neck roll once more before nodding. “Much.”

I nodded once myself, backing up as if I was the one in danger from her. Something kept pulling me towards her though, a magnetic tug that hadn’t been there before. Something I had been and always would be terrified of. “Nobody else gets to touch you from here on out.” I ordered, watching her eyebrows in confusion.

“But…”

“I don’t trust them. If I lost control then they sure as shit will and I- nothing’s going to happen to you. Not anymore.”

“Are- Are you allowed to do that?” She wondered, watching me back up towards the door, her eyes going wide with each one. “Wait, wait… don’t leave, please.”

“Why? I told you I’d protect you, I’m keeping you away from the other vampires. I can’t stay-”

“Why can’t you?” She darted up to her feet that I watched her sway on, immediately darting after her and catching her weightless body in my arms. My breath hitched in my throat as soon as I felt her head lolling on my chest, a quivering hand reaching upwards to grip my shoulder as if to better support herself.

“Bad idea.” I seethed to myself as I tried to right her back on the bed once more. And I didn’t know if I was talking about her standing up on my own or me staying. Probably both. But upon trying to pull away I only felt her hand tangling upwards into my shirt as she lifted her weak head to meet my eyes. “You shouldn’t get close to me… believe me. I- I’m not good for you.”

“I know.” She admitted, and just as I thought she was going to pull away I could only feel her grip on me tightening. “But please just… please don’t make me spend my first night here alone.”

I released a long sigh through breathless lungs. I knew this could’ve happened and I was terrified of it. A source’s first connection to a vampire could grow so intense so quickly and coupled with the fears that usually arouse with any of their first nights here. And that face, that pull, the guilt of earlier weighing on me so heavily… how could I say no? “Okay.”

#boygenius x reader #julien baker x reader #rpf #fanfic #boygenius fanfic #julien baker fanfic #blurb #vampire julien #vampire #vampire aesthetic #vampire au #supernatural au #halloween #happy halloweeeeeeen

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lamamasjamas · 9 months ago

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Love at First Sight (2/9)

A/n: Had to redo some of this and the first part because I want the story to be cohesive and neater. Most likely going to happen with all of the other works too.

Warnings: Dark!Din, Dub-con Smut, breeding/ pregnancy kink, pregnancy stuff, Stockholm Syndrome, kidnapping, I love making Din super lovesick and sweet lolz, Dark Fic!!!!

Love at First Sight Masterlist

He’s been conditioning you. He revels in the way your thighs clench together whenever his hands wander over your body.

At first, he let you isolate yourself, keeping yourself in the bunk as he piloted the ship, letting you take the cot every night. He didn't even try to interact with you, keeping himself busy with the child, his bounties and credit collection.

He would allow you outside of the ship, trusting you to be completely alone with Grogu. He was surprised by how you never once triggered the tracker embedded on your bracelet. He didn't know you knew that he had modified a cattle tracker into a shiny golden pendant.

You'd woken up with it your first morning in the Razor Crest. The soft hum of it was hard to locate at first. You lacked the tools to deactivate them.

He had plans. He wanted to find a home planet. Soon. Preferably somewhere adequate to raise his children. The holopad he conspicuously left out in the hull while he was out one evening was full of data files on hundreds of mid-rim planets.

Most of the planets he landed on were among those in the holos. They were safe, quiet, and isolated. Once you had found the pad, he checked which images you would stare at the longest, which descriptions you would read with rapt attention.

He would watch as you would glance outside of the ship. You clearly had a preference. Your eyes would glimmer in regions with cooler temperatures, lots of trees, deciduous and changing with the seasons.

As the fifth month of your Razor Crest residency arrived, he lost his patience. He thought finding a planet would come easier. Some were perfect but the people were too hostile. Some the opposite.

He was tired of the lack of communication. The dead silence whenever he was around.

He would start to get you used to his presence; the way he could make you feel. If only you would give him leverage.

You would often hear him pleasuring himself, murmuring about how you looked so beautiful carrying his child. How you would look so pretty all cock-dumb and fucked out over his bed sheets in a real home.

You would try to sleep after, but you couldn’t help but think of the way wetness dampened your underwear and how a part of you thinks back on how he pleased you back in your home. Before you realized his plan to take you.

You would usually stare half awake at the panels above you. Shifting uncomfortably against the small bunk that only seemed to get smaller as your bump grew.

He broke the silence one day while he was making portions, he stated how he had enough credits to buy an isolated unit near farmlands. A sleeping Grogu was taken out of your arms and placed in his metal bassinet. With a press of a button it was closed shut, leaving you alone with 'Din'.

You'd spoken directly to him a couple of times since your taking. His name was revealed to you the day you had woken up. Despite your anger, the fear, and the desperation to be free, you often caught yourself thinking of his name fondly.

Who would have known a bounty hunter to have such a simple name.

You blinked up at him in confusion. He sighs wistfully. As he sat down on the blankets and pillows he set up on the floor as a makeshift common area in the Crest, he reaches for your hand.

You let him pull you up against him. He’s strong enough so that he could position you any way he wants without your assistance. He pulls his helmet off with a hiss and motions for you to pick up your plate of food.

“We’ll be home in no time,” he soothes. You look back at him in confusion and he just smiles and caresses your cheek. His hands skim over your tunic and stop on the swell of your belly, lightly tracing it up and down with the tips of his fingers.

He cups the underside of the bump, his nose pressing against the side of your neck.

The defeat was present since the beginning. You never fought back, barely argued. Things couldn't have gotten much worse than life in your village, barely able to make it through a work shift without passing out from dehydration or starvation.

Chills run down your spine and goosebumps start to rise. He holds you against his chest for a couple of minutes, urging you to continue eating. Breathing in the scent of your hair and lightly caressing your belly.

Then his hands move further down and caresses over your mound, you shiver. A shot of pleasure goes up your spine. He continues to ‘accidentally’ rub against you in between his praises of how well of a mother you’ve been. Especially to Grogu, whenever he was gone.

You were throbbing by the time you were done with the portions, mumbling that you were full. That prompted him to ask you to feed him spoonfuls in return. He didn’t want to put anything to waste. It felt very intimate, especially with the way he loudly chewed next to your ear and groaned as if he was eating gourmet cuisine, almost mimicking the sounds he made when he last had you in your bedroom back in your home planet.

The baby cried, you were grateful for the respite, especially as he was starting to graze over your inner thighs. You excuse yourself to the restroom and curse yourself. It was the hormones, it had to be. You wouldn’t be this affected by his gentle touches otherwise.

He’s been doing the same technique afterwards for a little over a month. Grazing over your ass as he walked by. 'Accidentally' cupping your breasts and lightly squeezing as he mewled over your bump. Having you sit over his erection whenever you ate 'together'.

You hate the way your body now responds to a simple touch on the shoulder and jumps to imagining him thrusting into you against the side of the hull.

It got worse when you were finally 'home'. He was able to find a small house in a planet you didn’t know the name of. He didn’t allow you to even step outside the door. He said it was too dangerous.

You questioned him, considering you were a long way from other people. He never answered. Instead, he would hold you close to him and reassure you that it was safer for you and the baby.

Grogu was off to school, taken by his father almost every day. How come he wasn’t fussing constantly over him?

The one positive from being stuck ‘home’ was that he was barely there. You rarely had moments where he would make you want to rip his armor off and feel his skin on yours like months before.

He would often go to earn credits working odd jobs. He'd leave you with the promise that soon, if you complied instead of ignoring all of his advances at becoming a family, you too would accompany him out one day.

He didn’t like the idea of keeping you as if you were a nanny to his children. Just a doll he could stare at and fondle.

But because you were currently pregnant and you didn’t reciprocate his kisses and touches, he thought it was best to keep you where you were. You had enough time alone to think about ways to escape, but with your growing condition the thought was dissipating quickly. You felt tired, nauseous, heavy. Your feet were swollen and even thinking of the months to come made you dread even thinking of being alone. In some sick way the bastard has debilitated you in this form.

That didn’t stop him from praising you though. He likes to watch as you started to waddle around, chasing after his son, now yours, and play with him. Pride is all he feels when he sees the kid patting your stomach in question and you softly explain to him how there was a tiny person growing inside.

“The villagers have been asking for you,” he says one night, as you pull your hair away from your face in front of a mirror he bought you on his recent trip to the markets.

You hum absentmindedly, looking at anywhere but the reflection as he steps closer behind, wrapping his arms around you. “Is that so?” you question sarcastically. He ignores your tone.

“Mm.” He slumps over you, putting his head on top of yours. His eyes lower to your stomach and his brows furrow.

Skimming past your second trimester you outgrew all of your old clothes including those of the man behind you. His stare made you fidget. You feel embarrassed as you try to tug the tunic as far down as it can go. A sliver of your skin still peaks through.

You feel tears well and blur your vision and you try to look away from his now worried eyes. Your hands move to cover your face, but he stops them quickly, asking you what was wrong.

“My clothes don’t fit,” you whine. You think of how stupid you must sound. The way you could be thinking of many other worse things that he’s done to you, for example kidnapping you, and you think to complain about this.

“I’m so big. I'm just so...,” you sigh weakly. His grip tightens on your hands reassuringly and he plopped a kiss to the side of your head.

He’s always liked his women with some meat on their bones. He liked the thought that your body was changing because of him. Seeing you now, insinuate that you're not the most beautiful creation the maker has ever made, made his eyes twitch in irritation. Not at you, of course, but the way women are viewed.

In his culture women are respected as if they were goddesses. They are the foundations of their kind. Seeing you now look at yourself in disdain made him feel like a failure. He failed to take care of you as a spouse should.

All because he never touched you properly, fully and with his full intentions. He's teased you for months, never going farther than a few raunchy touches.

He kisses up your neck and you freeze. His hands wander downward, under your pants and underwear. His hand was so large that you could see it straining the seams of your pajamas.

“You’re beautiful,” he says as he flicks his wrist to palm over your mound, grinding it against you. You gasp as he continues, watching over you through the mirror as you twitch and lean your back further into his chest.

You sigh shakily as he inserts a thick finger inside of you. Then another as your eyes close shut tightly. The sound of your slick cunt resounds around the small room, your hand makes its way behind his head, pushing his mount against your neck and shoulder.

He brings you to climax easily. Your legs threaten to collapse but he catches you.

The rest of the night he praised your body, your caring personality. Often mentioning how you would be such a caring mother to your next child and children.

You were barely awake and on the verge of passing out. You felt as if you’ve exerted yourself trying to keep up with his burning touches. You don’t think you’ve ever been cared for as much as you have been with him.

“Tomorrow we’re going into town to get tunics.”

He presses himself against your back maneuvering a pillow under your body which lays on its side.

He finally presses a kiss to your lips as he pushes a strand of hair from your face. He smiles as he sees you respond back weakly, your eyes closed and lips slack in a light pucker.

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin fanfiction #Dark Fanfiction #Dark!Din Djarin

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hauntingcryptids · 1 year ago

Text

Tell Me That I Belong To You

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary - The Reader is having a bad day. So, with the convincing of The TARDIS, The Reader seeks comfort in The Master.

Based On This Request - *This was originally based on a request but the more I continued to write and edit it, the more the fic drifted away from the prompt. So, I am just going to let this be its own fic and write another fic more closely aligned to the prompt.

Warnings - Reader not feeling well, insecurity on the part of the reader, canon typical telepathy. (let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count - 1864

A/n - Gender Neutral Reader. I have a smut version of this fic if anyone would like to read it, but I don’t want to post it if people would just prefer the fluff version. I also don’t know how good this is, but I just wanted to get something out there after feeling awful mentally for a while. So, I hope that you enjoy this :)!

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You woke up with a headache. The type of headache that no matter how much water you drank, food you ate, or sun(TARDIS created sun) you layed in would cure your malady. Headaches, in general, but especially ones as bad as the one you were experiencing, always made your whole day awful. Oftentimes, the pain in your head would cause you to spiral internally until your mental health was utterly destroyed. That’s where you were now, arguing to yourself in your head about you and your “Humanness” and how you weren’t good enough for The Master. How could you possibly be good enough for The Master? Even if you weren’t Human, why would he want to be with someone like you?

The TARDIS beeped determinedly. You were becoming better at understanding The TARDIS given how much time you had spent within the ship but still you could only understand part of what she was telling you. The bits you could discern were: “The Master loves you”, “you are good enough”, “you have always been enough”, and “The Master would never think such horrible things about you. Ever!”

Eventually, you stopped The TARDIS’s rant about how great you were and that she wished that she could help improve your self-image. You thanked her for everything she said. Even though didn’t understand everything, you could feel her distress over your thoughts and her want to help you.

“The Master could help you where I fail.” The TARDIS finally said telepathically.

“He’s probably busy, though.” You mumbled, worried about upsetting him if you interrupted him while he was doing something.

“Go to him. He wouldn’t want to know that you allowed yourself to suffer when he was there ready and available to help you.” The TARDIS had to say this statement a couple of times in order for you to fully understand, and you sighed in response. She was right. The Master would be furious if he found out that you hid your distress from him, you knew that, he said as much many times before. It’s just that your brain would lie to you when you were upset.

“The Master will understand.” The sentient time and spaceship whispered into your brain. The TARDIS, given her time being The Master’s ship, knew better than anyone how the state of a person’s physical health could affect their mental health. She knew how greatly The Master suffered, therefore The Master would never judge you. The TARDIS just hoped that you knew what she knew.

“Can you lead me to The Master, please?” You asked after ruminating over everything the incredibly kind ship communicated to you. The TARDIS cheerfully directed you to the main library where The Master often lounged.

Like many times before, The Master was sitting horizontally on the sofa reading. He seemed engrossed in the thick tome resting up against his bent thigh. The alien’s engrossed demeanour made you want to turn back and talk to The Master later, but The TARDIS reassured you with a comforting presence. Both you and the ship knew that the only person who could make you happy when you were feeling off was the rogue Time Lord.

You walked up as quietly as you could and poked the Master’s cheek with your finger. The Master looked up at you with a smile, completely unbothered. Even while agonisingly planning an upcoming plan to toy with The Doctor, you would always bring him joy just with your presence. You were never a bother to him,

“Hello, my little Human. How are you today?” The Master seemed so calm even though you expected him to be upset. You wrapped your arms around your torso anxiously and subconsciously began rocking back and forth on your feet.

“Can I sit on your lap please, Master?” You sounded tired, which worried The Master, though he chose not to react for your benefit.

“Of course, love.” The Master placed the book he was researching and moved slightly to allow you to sit on his lap.

As soon as you rested your body against his, The Master scooted his body down the sofa until the two of you were practically lying down. The Master then wrapped his arms firmly around your back, trapping you against his chest with the beating of his hearts rattling throughout your body.

You breathed a sigh of relief, causing The Master to chuckle lovingly. You then nuzzled against his clothes-covered collarbones and the base of his neck and then breathed in his scent. His presence was comforting, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Your mind still hurt and your thoughts still moved far too quickly for you to properly calm down. You assumed that your thoughts were loud, loud enough for The Master to hear, but you didn’t put any effort into hiding your thoughts. You just wanted to dissolve into The Master’s chest and to let all of your anxieties disappear.

“I’m sorry that you aren’t feeling well, Y/n.” The Master said softly against your ear. One of his hands absentmindedly caressed up and down your back.

“Make me feel good, Master, please. You’re the only one who can.” Your headache seemed to peak right before you committed yourself to asking The Master for some help. The warmth of The Master’s body against yours and the severe pain spiking through your head was too contrasting and too overwhelming to put on a brave face any longer.

“What kind of Master would I be if I didn’t take care of my beloved Human.” The feel of The Master’s smirk against your skin sparked a warmth to spread through you. The Master always made you feel better and more secure, but on bad days you just needed a bit more reassurance.

“Please tell me that you mean that?”

“Of course I mean it, my love. You are the only person I could ever care about.” The Master adjusted slightly in order to look you in the eye. You shied away, avoiding eye contact, and The Master didn’t push you to look at him. Though he did brush a hand down the side of your face a couple of times before kissing your forehead delicately.

“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable, love.” The Master said this to inform you that he would move the two of you. He would carry you places in The TARDIS without telling you where you were going when you were feeling like your everyday self, but not when you were feeling off. The Master never wanted to add to your anxiety, so he would always tell you when he would carry you off somewhere.

The Master moved the two of you so he was sitting up with you on his lap. He wrapped your legs around his waist and held you tightly against his chest before finally standing up with you securely in his arms. Then he carried you off to your shared bedroom.

Once in the dark-themed and dimly lit bedroom, The Master gently placed you on the bed and wrapped you up in as many blankets as you wanted and needed. He stepped back from the bed momentarily to remove his clothes that were far inferior to yours when it came to the act of cuddling and resting. Eventually, he crawled under the covers to join you on the bed. He cuddled closer to you, holding you tighter than he did in the library, and then rubbed his hands up and down your back as you returned to your place cuddling into The Master’s side.

“What do you need, my love?”

“You.” You’re speech was muffled by The Master’s neck, but he still understood you.

“Yes, but what do you need me to do? I know that you are hiding something in that beautiful mind of yours.” You felt The Master softly tap a finger against your temple, a little jolt of calmness and relief coursing through you with each tap.

“You won’t laugh at me, will you?”

“Never.” The Master answered with sincerity heavy in his tone. You nervously mumbled your response under your breath and into his neck, making this comment more difficult for The Master to decipher.

“I couldn’t hear you, love.”

“Can you tell me I belong to you?” You asked a bit louder, but you were still quiet and nervousness permeated your question. The Master’s breath caught in his throat. He tried his best to hold in his excitement brought on by your request because this moment was about you. The idea of you belonging to him was exactly what The Master wanted, more than anything in the Universe, probably even the Multiverse. What added to his growing excitement and adoration of you was the fact that The Master didn’t even have to make you feel this way. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. Somehow, the stars aligned and they delivered the perfect person to The Master. What else could he do but give you whatever you wanted in an act of gratification?

“You belong to me, love. You always will belong to your Master. You’ll be mine forever.” The Master cuddled you impossibly closer, intertwining your bodies in a knot, and whispered into your ear with all the devotion and fervour he felt for you heavy on his tongue.

“And you really mean that -” You tried to ask again, but The Master cut you off before you could finish your insecurity-filled question.

“Of course I mean that. I would never lie to you, especially about this.” This time when The Master moved to look you in the eye you didn’t turn away. His warm chocolate eyes held all of the sentiments that were laced within his words and even more. If it were possible, you would stare into his eyes forever.

“Thank you, Master.”

“There is no need to thank me. You just need some rest and then you will feel better.” You huffed into The Master’s neck, just wishing that he would accept your gratitude without dismissing it.

“Come on, rest your head on my chest and close your eyes. I will deal with that headache and those pesky thoughts that were troubling you.” You did as The Master asked, already planning how you would repay The Master for everything he did for you today.

As soon as you placed your head on The Master’s chest, the sound of his heartbeats immediately calmed you down and the pressure on your mind began to subside. The Master massaged his hands along your back, starting slowly along your neck and then moving further down toward the base of your spine. He smoothed every ache and worked out every knot and kink, all the while placing delicate kisses across your head and face. You heard him whispering praises in your ear, some in your native language and some in his. Even though you couldn’t understand everything he spoke to you, you knew that what he said was entirely comprised of his love. Because of The Master’s actions, you soon fell asleep. You were completely consumed by the rogue Time Lord’s presence, just like you wanted to be when the day began.

#ghost's posts #fanfiction #x reader #doctor who #doctor who x reader #the master #the master x reader #dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #my writing #anon #request

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bad-as-me · 4 months ago

Note

Morgott for the ask meme!

hell yes my boy!!

favorite thing about them

Honestly, Morgott covers the bases for a lot of things I'm weak for in a character. I love a guy who is so single-mindedly devoted to a cause, especially one driven by a need to be loved, that the rest of the world and their own well-being falls apart in the process. Something about the inherent tragedy of someone choosing to die on a hill that nobody asked them to take on, that would really be in their better interest to let go of and start anew elsewhere, and yet you want so badly for their efforts to be rewarded in some way because you know it's all for love.

It's just so terribly romantic in a gothic sense. He reminds me so much of the description of the creature in Frankenstein: someone that tried so hard to fit himself into the image of what his maker wanted, who speaks beautifully and eloquently in contrast to his rough exterior, who boasts an intelligence and a competency that was likely learned while hidden from society. And yet we know in both situations that effort will never be reciprocated.

Also, he growls and purrs and has a giant fluffy snow leopard tail. How can I not be obsessed with him.

least favorite thing about them

His big beautiful horns are so hard to draw :'(

Honestly, he's one of those characters where even his flaws are incredibly interesting to me. I like that he refuses to give up his position of power! It's something he worked so hard for, and to his mind must be the only way he can stay safe in a world that he knows wants him dead. I like that he can't let go of the status quo! As his Great Rune tells us, Omen or not he is the rightful Lord of Leyndell. By all standards of the world they're in, he has every right to be proud of that title. And given the alternatives he's likely had presented to him (Rykard, Mohg, the Frenzied Flame), why wouldn't he believe that this stagnant existence is the best he could ask for?

He's the immovable object to our unstoppable force. There's a nobility in his commitment to that, however misguided it may be.

favorite line

"We are all forsaken. None may claim the title of Elden Lord. Thy deeds shall be met with failure, just as I..."

I love his monologue in the beginning of his fight, but the fact that this is the last thing he says just tears me apart on so many levels. It really hammers home how much of his targeted spite towards us is him projecting his own sense of failure to his lineage. He crawled all this way through the mud, gave every drop of his accursed blood for the Erdtree, and it still wasn't enough. How could we possibly have a chance when all his efforts were for naught?

No matter how many times I replay it, I always take some time just to sit next to him after he says that, listening to the rain over the capitol and the somber song of Leyndell. The city really feels like it's in mourning at that moment, all for someone they hated too much to truly understand.

brOTP

Mohg and Morgott!!! The gruesome twosome!! The dynamic duo! Every piece of art or fic that depicts them having some brotherly squabbles and shenanigans brings a little bit of life back into my eyes :')

OTP

As far as canon characters go, it's gotta be Morgott/Oleg. We love a good knight/master ship around these parts, and I think he deserved someone as devoted to protecting him as he was devoted to his cause.

Outside of that, well. I am writing an ongoing fic of Morgott and my Night's Cavalry Tarnished (who was never a Tarnished but a secret third option, but you know.) I think about them a normal amount.

nOTP

Mohg/Morgott. I just want them to have one single family relationship in their life that is remotely healthy man 😭

random headcanon

He's good with animals, and prefers the company of them to people. Most of his communication to the Night's Cavalry is through carrier falcon, but if he needs to summon them all for a meeting, he can do so with an instrument that's very similar to an Aztec death whistle.

Also, he recanted his blood through the Church of Vows. Him and Miriel have a good rapport with one another.

unpopular opinion

Respectfully, I disagree with both the "Morgott is basically the Lands Between's evangelical gay republican" take, as well as the "Morgott is a soggy baby virgin who will cry if you give him a cookie" take.

I think he is a living contradiction in a lot of ways. He is simultaneously an accursed Omen, the lowest of the low, while also having tangible evidence that he is the child of a god and of a powerful bloodline. He has held Leyndell together for more than long enough both to be aware of its corruption, and to be in a position to change it, but he can't allow himself to believe any of it needs to be changed.

He is too stuck on the idea that he needs to uphold the way things are - to prove himself "better" than his curse - to change anything. This is directly contrasting his brother Mohg, who has made an entire cult around acknowledging the unjust suffering he went through.

Like the sealing of his blood into a sword, he represses that truth, until he is so broken down that it is released all at once - painfully and without control.

Because of this, I think he would recoil at the idea of being an object of pity. He has done too much to earn a respectable position for anyone to tell him that he deserves better - even if it's true, and he should be told that.

song i associate with them

Oh god I have a whole playlist of them. But if I were to narrow it down:

Sonne by Rammstein

Momma Sed by Puscifer

Romans 10:9 by The Mountain Goats

Helvegen by Wardruna

favorite picture of them

I am not exaggerating when I say this illustration by tendermiasma re-wired my brain on a fundamental level

#well this got wildly out of hand but also: that shouldnt be surprising lol #morgott

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a-killer-obsession · 6 months ago

Text

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 41 - Ghosts

Alliance Island ahoy! Things get spooky.

Word Count: 5.4k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055 @eyes-ofhell

A/N: with the next few chapters we’re coming into the final arc of this fic and things will be working into the canon, starting with all the Kid Pirate hideout scenes (so spoilers for like Punk Hazard/Dressrosa kinda area for these next few chapters, and a few flashbacks that happen during Wano). Wano proper will be starting in a few chapters but I’ll give y'all a spoiler warning when we hit it in case anyone hasn’t finished Wano arc of the anime.

Two weeks at sea passed in relative bliss, all of the tension on the ship because of you and Killer now entirely dissipated, allowing everyone to go back to the usual comfortable ease. Things with Killer were easier than you thought they would be, with everything just sort of naturally falling into place. It'd become somewhat of a routine for him to join you and Heat after Dawn was put down for the night. Sometimes he stayed, sometimes he crossed the hall and stayed with Kid, sometimes he went back to his own room. Not often though, he preferred to stay with Kid if he wasn't with you because it allowed him easy access to Dawn, who he'd continued to take care of at night so you and Heat could sleep, even if he’d looked after her for most of the day. You no longer had to sleep alone when Heat was on night watch, since Killer would stay with you, and often if you had the watch one of them would stay up with you, which was sweet.

It was just as well, because you really didn't want to be alone. You still often had night terrors about Dawn’s birth mother, haunted by the image of her tangled body at the bottom of the cliff, and her cursing words, which made no sense given the way she’d given Dawn over to you before jumping. You were also on edge a lot, as you kept seeing things in the corner of your eye ever since you’d come back from the cliff. People you didn't recognise, only there for a blink before disappearing, so quick sometimes that you wondered if you’d seen them at all. It made you feel like you were going insane, perhaps all the trauma of the last few months was finally catching up with your brain and having negative effects. You only mentioned it to Mohawk as your doctor, worried it was the spark of some new mental illness, but he couldn't find anything wrong that would cause it, and being that you were intimately familiar with the way your own brain waves felt due to your devil fruit, you couldn't find anything different either. You had however noticed that you only saw the blinks when your fruit was active, never when you had your seastone against your skin, which led you to believe perhaps it was something to do with your powers. Maybe trauma had awoken some new ability you were yet to understand. It made you wonder about the conversation you’d had with the others long ago about your potential to see ghosts, but you still weren’t sure you even believed in them. Weirder things had proven true on the Grandline though.

The more it happened, the more visible and stable the images got, until you began recognising the several people you saw who seemed to appear over and over, usually within the proximity of others. Most notable was a short, blue haired woman that seemed to float mostly around Heat, and a young, heavily freckled girl with a ginger bob who often appeared near Kid and Killer. You started to wonder if they were the ghosts of people they’d known, but you didn't feel like bringing it up, not until you really understood what was happening. They had enough to be worried about right now with the upcoming island and alliance, and the ‘ghosts’ seemed harmless enough, the others didn’t ever seem to notice them.

The island in question was now on the horizon, and you stood on the skull deck with many of the others, watching the spring island slowly come into view. Heat was behind you, his chin resting on your head and his arms around your waist. Killer stood at your side, hand linked with yours, the other idly patting Dawn's bottom, who was strapped to his chest as she often was these days. He'd taken to fatherhood like a duck to water, having no issue at all unlocking his natural paternal instincts and understanding what the baby needed. He had raised Kid, after all, he found that an immobile baby was far easier than a toddler to care for, especially given he was an adult this time round. Between the two men you felt like you hardly had to lift a finger, they were both more than willing to do all the hard work. All you had to do was produce milk and give the two of them affection. Sometimes you felt like you had to fight them for a turn to hold Dawn, such was their fondness for her. It made you laugh, really, that the two of them were so enamoured with the small girl, who was growing like a weed.

“There's a ship docked at the island,” Wire called down from the crow's nest, telescope in hand, “don't recognize the jolly roger”

“Some no name trying to take advantage of the empty island,” Killer called back to him. He was far more comfortable with being loud around Dawn now, he'd quickly come to learn that she really did sleep deeper than Kid, the girl could sleep through a buster call. Not to mention, she really would sleep through spaghetti on her head, he'd learned that lesson several times over at this point. “What do you want to do about it, Kid?”

“Should be an easy takeover,” Kid hummed, standing on the figurehead skull with his hands on his hips, “Give the babe to Heat, the two of us and Yin can go on ahead and take the island before we even dock. Wire, ready the cannons, take out their ship when the Punk is in range so they can't flee. Don’t fuck it up too much incase they have some good shit, aim for the masts”

You helped Killer transfer Dawn to Heat's front, Heat quickly taking the long, stretchy fabric and forming the carrier around himself as you gave him a quick peck on the cheek and joined Kid and Killer on the figurehead skull. Kid formed a purple ball of energy around himself, a new trick he'd learned that saved him from needing to moonstep, and floated himself towards the enemy ship, you and Killer flanking his sides. Killer's punishers were already active and at the ready, while you switched mask functions to zero in on the heat signatures of the enemy and figure out how many there were.

“Five on the ship, a few in the castle, about twenty in between,” you reported to the captain and first mate, “looks like they only recently landed, still moving their shit, should be an easy slaughter if we just start at the port and work our way up the path.”

“Good,” Kid chuffed, “I’ll take care of the ones on the ship, you two head to the castle. Let's get to work”

The three of you landed gracefully, catching the rival crew by surprise as you immediately set to work. Bodies were on the ground before they even knew they were under attack, Kid using their own weapons against them by spearing them with their own swords and reflecting their bullets when they had the foresight to start fighting back, while you and Killer went on ahead, working in well practised tandem as you both brought down every enemy in your way. The two of you were fast and agile and worked well as a team, even when you'd been at odds the two of you still made an excellent team, with fighting styles that played well together. With Killer's haki and your ability to sense the shift in the energies around you, the two of you were a well oiled machine that was a sight to behold. It was almost a dance when the two of you fought side by side, elegantly shifting around each other, moving out of the way for each other's attacks without even having to look, wordlessly working together towards the common goal. You enjoyed the dance, opting to fight with your sword today to take advantage of it, barely using your fruit abilities at all.

It didn't take long for the two of you to make it to the castle, and Killer followed behind you as you led him to the room that held the handful of enemies, which appeared to be the captain and his commanders, busy discussing how they would utilise the island. The raid had been so quick that they didn't even know they were under attack, cannonfire only heard in the distance as the two of you entered and slew the closest commanders before taking the captain and his first mate captive for Kid to have fun with later, knocking them out for the meantime so neither of you had to bother with them. You could see from the arched, ornate window the line of carnage the two of you had left behind that led to the dock, where Kid was literally picking up the enemy ship via the metal inside it and moving it to the sandy beach to make room for the Punk, not wanting to entirely destroy it in case there were any valuables still on board. You watched him crush the skulls of the last few living crew who ran from the ship when it was settled in the sand, before stretching like he'd barely had a workout and starting to examine the various scattered crates on the shore that had already started being transported.

“Looks like we have some time to ourselves,” Killer hummed in your ear as he slid up behind you to look out the same window. There was a great deal of blood on both of you but it only added to the allure as he pressed his strained erection against your ass, pinning you against the windowsill. You weren't the least bit surprised, the adrenaline of battle often got most of the crew riled up, and more often than not fights ended with you in a pool of sweat and cum between your lovers. You giggled as your thighs rubbed together needily, already growing wet, leaning forward a little as Killer pushed your miniskirt up with a hand on each thigh.

“What are you waiting for then?” You purred, pushing your ass back against him, “better not waste time”

Killer growled and quickly set about unbuckling his belt, lowering his crimson soaked jeans just enough to free his cock while you let your panties fall to your ankles. He pulled one of your legs up, resting your knee against the windowsill as he sheathed himself in you in one fast motion, making you whine from the stretch. It stung, having had no chance to warm up, but quickly melted to pleasure as he thrust hard and fast into you, pulling off his helmet and letting it fall to the floor as he bit into your neck and groaned against your skin. Your hot breath fogged the cool glass in front of you, and you wondered if anyone was back on the ship still using the telescope; if they were they would absolutely be able to see Killer balls deep in your cunt, and the thought of getting caught like that made your pussy clench.

“Fuck, so tight,” Killer groaned, “you feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock”

“Hnng, Kil~” you whined, reaching between your legs to play with your clit while the other hand held you steady against the window frame. “So good, so fucking good, harder, fuck me harder baby~”

Killer groaned as he grabbed your hips and lifted you easily, pulling out for only one moment to spin you around and raise your ass to sit on the window sill, your back now flush with the cold glass pane as he entered you again and fucked you at a brutal pace, his face buried in your shoulder, his hands under your thighs folding you practically in half as he fucked you. From this angle you could see the unconscious and dead bodies that littered the room, men you killed and incapacitated together, and it made you moan even louder, bloodlust and arousal mixing together deliciously as Killer fucked you mercilessly.

When you came it was with an audible gush and a scream, fluid dripping down the wall beneath you and making Killer whine against your shoulder as you clamped down around him. He pulled out just in time to coat your labia with cum, making a satisfied groan as he inspected your pussy painted and dripping with his seed, using his thumb to rub it against your clit before he grabbed your discarded panties and threaded them back over your ankles, pulling you to stand and redressing you so his cum was trapped in the fabric. You whined at the lewd notion, feeling his cum still hot against your cunt, and he groped your ass hard, pulling you into a fiery kiss and growling possessively into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he purred as he pulled away, spinning you around to give your ass a smack before pinning you against the window sill again, your palms flat against it as he ground against you, threatening to fuck you again as you watched the crew approach the castle out the window. “You better have those same panties on tonight when I come to fuck you again, or I'll have to punish you”

“Fuck, Kil,” you whined, wishing desperately that you had time to go again, his cum cooling against your needy cunt and making you feel dirty in more ways than one. “That's- hnng- I like that”

“Yeah? You like walking around with panties full of cum?” He teased, “I'll be sure to tell Heat so we can make sure you always have a load on your greedy cunt”

“Fuck,” you whined, pushing back against him, your clit throbbing in need. You whimpered sadly as he pulled away, giving you one last slap on the ass before collecting his mask from the floor, giving you one last hard kiss before he put it back on. He helped you right your clothes before anyone walked in, then you sat in his lap as you both waited for Kid to enter, which didn't take long, not that you could concentrate on a word Kid was saying when you were so very aware of the sticky cum on your pussy and the hand idly stroking your thigh.

All in all the castle was in good shape, and the crew you'd taken down on arrival had been clearly setting themselves up for a long stay, so the Kid Pirates now had plenty of supplies and would have no need to restock for at least a month. Most useful for you was the discovery of what seemed to be some sort of Queen's quarters with a large attached nursery, with furniture and toys left behind in the family's hurry to flee, leaving you with a lovely new fancy setup and no need to move much from the ship to accommodate Dawn. “Fit for the future Princess of Pirates,” Kid had chuffed when he saw the room.

Almost as soon as your room had been identified, Killer had taken Dawn off Heat's hands and left you alone with him. It was quickly made clear that Killer had shared his new finding with Heat, and now you found yourself struggling to concentrate as you sat on Heat's lap at the grand ornate table in the dining hall as the Kid Pirates celebrated their new base, a fresh hot puddle of cum in your panties added to Killer's already sticky mess. The two of them were toying with you, Dawn now safely tucked in bed with an active denden mushi at her side to keep an ear out for crying while Killer and Heat took turns seating you in their laps and running their hands up your thighs, the occasional press of an erection against your ass making you whine, neither of them touching you where you needed it but coming teasingly close.

Kid was very much enjoying the fact that this table, on a raised platform at the end of the hall, was capped with a large elegantly carved oak throne. He’d even managed to find himself a crown that’d been forgotten by the royal family that previously lived here, making Kid very much feel like a king. The entire castle was lavish, a bit too much for your taste but at least the floor wasn’t constantly moving. There was a strange aura about it though, and a great increase in the amount of spectres you’d seen since arriving. They seemed to be everywhere now, some more faded than others, as though the ghost themselves had existed for longer. The two you recognised seem to have made their way from the ship over the course of the afternoon, the ginger girl now standing at Kid’s side. You swore you could hear her laugh whenever Kid or Killer made a joke, the sweet little melodic laugh of a young girl, and you wondered who she was, and if she was real. The same went for the blue haired woman. Heat’s sister perhaps? She looked no older than him, but you’d never heard him mention a sister. You had however heard Killer mention a girl before. What was her name again? Oh right, Victoria, like the ship. They’d never said what she looked like, and they had no photos, but if not her then who else? You were suspicious of the ghosts though, but they made no attempts to touch the boys, so you left them be.

That was, until one did.

You’d been sitting on Killer’s lap, pondering the blue haired woman when she suddenly moved, looking at you discerningly, almost as though she was testing what your reaction would be, wrapping her arms around Heat. He shivered like he’d caught a cold chill, and before you knew it you were launching yourself off Killer’s lap, scurrying across the table and sending food and plates flying as you let out an offensive burst of energy. Heat felt the wave pass him as it made contact with the woman, sending her flying towards the wall, body dissipating as she hit it though she’d travelled right through. So you could interact with them, curious.

“Don’t touch him!” you’d screamed as you made your attack, the commanders looking at you wide eyed and confused as you knelt in the middle of the table, arm outstretched towards nothing. Your sudden outburst had put everyone on the attack, Killer’s punishers whirling as he stood behind you, Wire’s trident pointed at nothing, Kid and Heat on their feet ready to move until they realised there was nobody there, just a wall decorated with paintings of fancy people in fancy outfits.

“Don’t touch who, my flame?” Heat took your outstretched hand gently, concerned about the seemingly needless outburst. He knew you’d been seeing things, as did Killer, but you’d never interacted with them before.

“Did you see one of your ghosts?” Killer asked, disabling his punishers and coming around Heat’s side of the table to face you.

“The fuck you mean ‘ghosts’?” Kid growled.

“It was- she was-” you stuttered, a little confused yourself, “I think they’re real, the ghosts, I sent her flying”

“Her?” Heat asked as he helped you off the table, your eyes still trained on the spot where the woman had disappeared.

“There’s- there’s a woman,” you tried to explain, “she… follows you.” You recoiled as the ghost slowly appeared through the wall again, walking as though it wasn’t even there. She looked at you with a small smile, as though you’d passed her test. Did she want you to protect Heat? Was that it? You tilted your head questioningly as you observed her. She was far clearer now that you were concentrating on her, almost mistakable for a real living person. “She’s back,” you mumbled.

“What does she look like?” Heat asked nervously, not super excited about the prospect of a ghost following him around.

“Like… you,” you whispered, “she’s… maybe your age? Her hair is like yours, and she’s got your eyes, and your strange greyish skin. And… a tattoo? Pink roses, on her shoulder.”

Heat almost lost his footing, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, “Mum?” he whispered unsurely, looking at the space your eyes were fixed on. You looked between him and the ghost, Killer now holding Heat for support as the man threatened to collapse under the weight of his emotions. “You’re describing my mother,” he explained, “Rose”

“Oh shit,” you realised your mistake, “sorry, uh.. Rose. I didn’t mean to attack you”

The ghost smiled and came closer, but this time you didn’t flinch, letting her approach, though still a little cautious. There was no malice in her smile despite your attack, only a warm fondness. She reached up and touched Heat’s cheek, his whole body shuddering for a moment as though he could feel it. His eyes moved to you, as though asking for confirmation. “Can you feel that? She’s touching your cheek” you asked him.

“Feels warm,” Heat said softly, “feels… soothing”

The ghost smiled fondly at him, but you came to another sudden realisation. “But if she’s real then,” you looked to the other ghost, who looked almost annoyed that you hadn’t been paying attention to her, “Victoria?”

Victoria puffed her cheeks out and nodded enthusiastically, hands on her hips proudly as you finally recognised her. Kid and Killer looked at each other nervously. “Wh-where?” Kid stuttered. Victoria ran up to him and jumped up to wrap her arms around his neck, hanging from it, that same laugh echoing again. Kid’s face went pale as he felt the strange warmth around his neck. “Is- is she?”

“She’s hanging off your neck like a monkey,” you giggled. “I wonder…”

You held out a hand to Rose, and as though she understood she placed her hand in yours. Now you could feel that strange warmth too, but you didn’t dwell on it. Instead you concentrated, closing your eyes and willing the light around her to manipulate. A soft gasp from Heat prompted you to open your eyes. To you, nothing looked different, but Heat’s eye’s clearly scanned Rose, it was obvious that he could see her now. Tears flowed freely from him and the ghost made a small silent giggle, wrapping her arms around Heat. Victoria let go of Kid and came running over, jumping up and down in front of you as though to say ‘Me next!’. You held out your hands for her and she took them quickly, repeating your earlier motions and making her visible for the others.

“Vicky!” Killer cried out, kneeling in front of her. She wracked her knuckles against his helmet with a pout, and he realised she wasn’t happy about the mask. “Sorry…you know how I feel about my face..” she crossed her arms and puffed up her cheeks, entirely unimpressed. Kid laughed at the interaction, coming to stand at Killer’s side as Victoria turned to you with her frown and pointed at the mask.

“I know, I’ve tried to tell him!” you laughed, “Idiot doesn’t think he’s handsome, stupid right?”

Victoria gave an enthusiastic nod as she turned back to her boys, making you and Kid laugh while Killer huffed. She pointed next at Kid’s arm as he too knelt in front of her, a sad frown on her face as you pulled yourself to sit on the edge of the table, still a little confused about the limitations of this ability. It made you wonder why you didn’t see Dawn’s mother around, was there a certain situation required to form a ghost? A certain level of willpower or strength of spirit? Why didn’t Dawn’s mother have a ghost? Maybe she did, and she’d chosen to not follow. Perhaps she couldn’t bear to watch. It made you wonder as well how long Victoria and Rose had been following the boys. Since they’d died? Or was it your power that allowed them to manifest? So many questions.

“Ah, don’t worry about it Vic,” Kid laughed in response to Victoria’s frown in regards to his arm, “didn’t need both of em anyway”

“Victoria, were you there when it happened?” you asked her. She turned and gave you a small nod. “So you’ve been there the whole time, since you… passed away?” Again, she nodded. That was that question answered then. “I’m guessing it’s the same for you too, Rose?”

Rose gave you a sweet smile and a nod, and you swore you could see the hairs on Heat’s head move as she stroked it soothingly, holding him so softly while he quietly cried. It made you a little sad, knowing they’d been around since they died, and that it meant Dawn definitely didn’t have her mother following her. Maybe it was a good thing, maybe if there was an afterlife she'd gone straight there instead of staying in limbo, or maybe she felt she didn’t need to stick around to protect Dawn, trusting you entirely with her daughter. You still had so many questions. Did the other’s have loved ones they’d lost that hadn’t remained in limbo? And what about the other ghosts you’d seen in the castle, they weren’t protecting anyone, so was it just unfinished business in general that formed a ghost? You were entirely lost in your thoughts as the others interacted with their ghosts, Wire coming to sit at your side though he understood how your mind was swimming.

“Heat was quite young when she died,” Wire explained softly, “I wonder if she stayed because she felt he needed protection”

“That’s what I was wondering,” you hummed, “same for Victoria. She seems like the stubborn type”

“She was,” Wire laughed, “just as stubborn as them, if not more.” You decided to investigate it further, specifically with Rose since Heat had chosen to just sit quietly, while Kid and Killer were busy laughing with a very expressive Victoria, you didn’t want to interrupt them.

“Rose, can I ask why you stuck around?” you asked her, the ghost giving you a soft smile. “Did you stay because you felt you needed to protect Heat?” Rose gave you a nod, pressing a kiss to Heat’s hair before standing and approaching you. Heat made a sad little whimper as she left him but she hushed him with a finger to his lips, before turning back to you and holding out a hand. You instinctively took it, and it was more solid than you thought. Were you unconsciously making her solid, the same way you made platforms and barriers with air? That must be why Heat’s hair was moving, because she could truly be felt. You slid from the table and let her guide you with a raised brow, curious as to her plan, till she brought your hand to Heat and laid it on his shoulder, Heat too now raising his brows questioningly at his mother’s actions.

“It was a test, wasn’t it?” you asked Rose, “You wanted to see that I’d protect him.” she replied with a nod, taking a step back to fondly observe you and Heat together as you hand idly moved to stroke his cheek. Her physical form began to fade, and Heat jumped out of his seat in panic.

“No! No no no, where is she going?” he asked you, trying to hold on to his mother but everywhere he touched turned to light.

“I think she’s leaving you under my care,” you hummed, looking at Wire for reassurance, who nodded though to agree.

“But I don’t want her to go!” Heat cried. Shouting started behind you as Victoria too began to fade, making her way to Rose and taking her hand.

“Where’s she going?” Kid growled, “I order you to keep her here!”

“I don’t think I can,” you replied softly, standing at Killer’s side and taking his hand, seeing the wet trails on his neck. “I think they’re ready to move on, I don’t think I can force them to stay, I only gave them a visible form, I didn’t summon them or anything”

“No! They have to stay!” Kid shouted, rushing at them as the ghosts continued to fade, small balls of white light fluttering around them.

“Kid, it’s time to let go,” Killer told him, letting go of your hand to hug the captain, who was a weeping mess at this point, uncaring of the rest of the crew in the dining hall who’d been watching since your outburst, tears in some of their eyes at the soft scene. Wire wrapped himself around Heat’s shoulders, the bluenette now full force sobbing. It broke your heart, but try as you might, nothing you did seemed to stop the slow decay of the two spirits. Realising there was no solution, you made your way through the crying men to get to them, holding out a hand for each, feeling the fading warmth against your skin as they each took a hand.

“I’ll protect them, I promise,” you sniffed, receiving a soft smile from Rose and a determined one from Victoria, “go rest now, I’ll take care of them from here”

The crew watched as the two forms turned to pure white light, the lights dissipating into smaller spheres and floating upwards until they faded to nothing, leaving three very upset men and one very confused galley of onlookers behind.

“Bring her back!” Kid wiggled out of Killer’s hold and grabbed your jacket, pulling it tightly. You thought for a moment that he was going to hurt you, but instead his forehead pressed against your chest, goggles digging into your skin and tears wetting your shirt, “Please,” he whispered.

“I can’t Kid, I’m sorry,” you ran your hand through his red hair gently, looking up at Killer for guidance, who stood at Kid’s back and rubbed it reassuringly. Heat was still crying, but Wire had him well in hand, so you focused on Kid and Killer instead, taking Killer’s other hand and running your thumb over the back of it. “I think they just wanted to say goodbye before they left, but it was time for them to move along, to whatever comes after. You have to let her go”

“Don’t wanna,” Kid mumbled against your chest like a scorned child, and you had to hold back a giggle.

“Come now, we’re supposed to be celebrating,” you cooed, “will you stop crying if I sit in your lap for a bit?”

“Maybe,” Kid huffed, immediately scooping you up and returning to his throne. His head was still buried in your chest as he sat, though using it to hide from the world while you continued to stroke his hair, giggling at his bashful behaviour. Killer made a snort at the indigent man who’d stolen his girlfriend, pulling his chair to sit beside you and leaning his mask against your shoulder.

“Are you okay, my love?” you asked Killer, very much aware that nobody was giving him a hug right now, even though you were sure he needed it.

“Mmm, it was just unexpected,” he replied quietly.

“Do you need a cuddle too?” you asked.

“He can wait his damn turn, captain goes first,” Kid huffed against your chest, making you roll your eyes as Killer snorted again.

“I’ll be fine,” Killer replied, “I’ll get a cuddle later. And Heat will.” Reassuring you that it was okay for your focus to be on Kid right now.

The two of you looked over to where Wire still held Heat, slowly bringing the man back to reality and forcing him back into a chair, Heat still sniffing a little but gradually coming around. “I’ll take care of you both when captain needy is done with his cuddles,” you laughed, to which Kid replied by poking you in the ribs.

“Oi, I can get up, you know?” you pouted.

“Please don’t” Kid pleaded.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

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