#goddamn it i love X very much he deserves the world

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l ten

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze. 

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

[moonbaby26]

Title: Trust

(Chapter 19 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Smoker x Reader (in the past)

Chapter Warnings: language, toxic relationships, Doflamingo is still insane, breeding kink

Chapter Synopsis: As the marines begin to react further in response to Doflamingo’s public ensnarement of you and their true helplessness in it all, the warlord still grapples with the mistakes of his past that he now refuses to repeat.

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20

Fic Masterlist

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Only once in Sengoku’s life could he remember ever truly yelling at this woman. And he’d had tears running down his face the night that he’d done so.

Five years ago, when they’d also been on the phone together, oceans apart much like they were now. 

And to his shame, in the grief of that moment, Sengoku had had the gall to accuse Tsuru of holding back. He’d told her that her softness had allowed Doflamingo one too many second chances.

Sengoku had blamed her for still wishing to save what was already long gone within that boy, and thereby enabling every subsequent tragedy which followed from his actions. 

He remembered yelling that it should have been Doflamingo lying cold and dead two decks below her in that makeshift morgue on her warship, and not his precious Rosinante instead.

He’d berated a woman he trusted more than any other in this world. As if she hadn’t been sitting there in silence with that very same pain in her heart that night. 

Sengoku had been too consumed in his own emotions then, when it’d only been Tsuru who had had to personally oversee the retrieval of the body once Doflamingo’s ship had again escaped over the horizon.

Only she had been the one barking orders at her entirely confused crew. Telling them to treat a former Donquixote executive’s remains with care befitting one of their own as they’d unknowingly dug Sengoku’s adopted son from the still falling snow with their bare hands.

“I gave you as many days as I could.” Is what she told him now.

And her voice was as cold as that snow must have been then. Though she still didn’t yell at him in the way he deserved. Tsuru didn’t return that cruelty that he’d given her those years ago.

Not yet.

The fleet admiral’s eyes were closed behind his glasses in guilt regardless. His forehead rested against his hand in his disgust for what these webs had really become.

Somehow they had all become entwined.

Somehow this nightmare had still never stopped.

Rosinante had sworn to him that he would not go back to his brother in the end. Because they had all known the danger and most likely final result. 

And Tsuru had never expected you to have needed to make that same promise to them.

Rosinante had gone to Minion Island willingly. Just as you’d gone to Scylla, specifically requesting leave there that Momonga hadn’t known enough to deny.

And Doflamingo had been ready and waiting both times.

Neither you or Rosinante had left that devil again after stepping willfully back into his strings.

And why?

Why could Doflamingo never be sated? Why did it always have to be those that they already loved that he took?

“Every day, Tsuru. Every day I have been asking the Five Elders of when enough is enough. Or even for them to give me a single goddamn reason. A reason of why he’s now become this untouchable.”

Sengoku had taken all the criticism from his admirals, from Garp, and from Tsuru. But he had never stopped working towards a resolution behind the scenes.

Because this was so deeply personal.

It didn’t matter that you were only a captain, only a single marine in his ranks of thousands.

He’d never wanted Tsuru to have to go through this as he had with Rosinante.

But today’s newspaper and the lies within had been her final straw. 

This phone line was encrypted. But it may not have mattered today. She was that furious.

“I want you to understand that this call is simply a courtesy. I will not be returning to HQ. I will not be maintaining the blockade here. Cipher Pol is welcome to keep chasing my ship as they see fit. But we’re crossing the calm belt and heading for Dressrosa.”

His most steadfast vice admiral was now abandoning her post in Lyra.

“I’ll deal with Cipher Pol.” Sengoku muttered. He’d have to lie that he had given her specific orders to leave. 

Lyra was still under full World Government quarantine. No one was allowed in or out as they finished whatever bioweapon testing they’d really chosen that island and its rebels as horrific test subjects for.

Tsuru had hated that too of course, as anyone with a soul should.

But this additional stress with Doflamingo had broken what remained of that dam and all she’d been holding in. She would not be cooperating a moment further.

“I also want you to check with Mariejois for a marriage registration in his name. I suspect he’s already signed her over to him if he was willing to make this public declaration and antagonize us outright this way.”

Sengoku’s eyes finally opened again there. 

He also knew Tsuru well enough to understand that the false calmness as she said these things meant nothing of her true intentions.

“And if he has done that…what are you going to do with that information?” He asked her with the tension far clearer in his own tone.

The silence hung for a moment.

“You understand what he’s really doing, don’t you?” Her voice sounded briefly more cutting there.

“I don’t try to understand the reasonings of the insane.” Sengoku’s bitterness was reemerging as well.

An enemy would always be an enemy. And Sengoku lived for the day that Doflamingo’s immunity would finally fail him.

But that day was not today.

“He lost his previous marine. By his own hand.” Tsuru said next, somber but factual.

An assumption they always knew must be true. Though Doflamingo had never once confessed to Rosinante’s murder to them outright. 

“He thinks she’s strong enough to survive his madness where so many others have not. He’s betting on that. Because he’s terrified of ending up alone. He always has been.” She said so surely, with that additional impatience that meant she would be hanging up momentarily.

The fleet admiral’s eyes narrowed. But he knew it was already futile. He could stop his own admirals easier than he could this woman once she had made up her mind.

“And how do you know this isn’t exactly what he wants you to do, Tsuru? Just to draw you in as well?”

“I’m an old woman. So it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m not letting her endure this alone. Just be ready to mobilize if the winds change in Mariejois.” Her finality was clear.

And it still hurt. Be it today, five years ago, ten years ago, twenty, or more. Sengoku had lost too many loved ones already. 

One day she wouldn’t come back to him either.

This was the way of their world.

“Be safe, Tsuru-chan.” Sengoku’s voice quieted. “Please.”

The snail’s eyes looked out in that knowing silence.

“You know my answer to that.” She spoke one last time before hanging up.

And he could only smirk sadly. “I do.”

Sengoku, Garp, and Tsuru had once considered themselves a trio. They used to laugh about inescapable danger.

Death will come when my purpose is done.

That had been their irreverent rhyme of a saying. One far easier said in the arrogance of youth. And not from the aged veterans they’d become, just trying to protect their vulnerable seeds of the future.

——————————

“Oh, boo hoo! Just get over it already! If you didn’t want to share your notes, then you should have encrypted your data better!” Caesar’s golden eyes had gleamed as he floated closer, the newspaper still spread taut within his grip.

He was grinning too, flipping through the pages again and the pictures that graced them. “What a lovely couple! So how could you be so selfish as to not grant their hearts’ desire?”

Vegapunk made another disinterested noise, looking through large goggles and still trying to resume the experiment he had so frustratingly been interrupted from when Caesar had first burst into his lab. 

“If you had any ethics or common sense at all, you would drop this subject immediately. It’s not our place to interfere in something like that.” The older scientist tried to rebuff again.

“You think I don’t have common sense!?” Caesar’s voice was immediately more grating as his thin lips moved back into a scowl.

“I look the other way repeatedly for you,” Vegapunk reminded, already used to these theatrics from the other. Though still watching the beaker in front of him as its contents began to change in density and color. 

“I’ve ignored your greed and resulting moonlighting of still selling illicit compounds right from our backdoor. As well as your questionable tastes in companionship at all hours in your quarters. Your ‘socializing’ is quite loud and distracting.” Vegapunk also criticized.

Caesar blinked. So what? When he did have escorts over to visit from Dressrosa, they were paid very well for their trip. And he’d be damned if after spending that much of his payments from Joker on such entertainment, that he would have just let those women lay in his bed quietly. 

“Ugh, spare me your false modesty! You dirty old hypocrite.” Caesar clucked, waving a gloved hand dismissively even as he now floated to Vegapunk’s other side like an insistent child. 

“These two are my friends, I’m telling you. And they are desperate to start a family!” He just went on, then trying to shove the newspaper in front of the other scientist again.

“I already read it.” Vegapunk responded flatly. “And you don’t have any friends. I know Doflamingo must be your client. There is no other reason for you to be as fixated as you are with him. Money and cruelty are the only things which have ever enticed you to this degree.”

“Well he enjoys my creativity! And he knows a real genius when he sees one!” Caesar didn’t even bother to fully deny the accusation that time. If Vegapunk really was going to tattle on him just for taking money under the table, he already would have. Though Caesar was sure even Dr. Vegapunk didn’t know all the things they’d been cooking up together.

“He’s just using you. And you’re insecure enough to encourage it.”

“He is not just-” Caesar’s quick temper nearly got away from him all the way there, before he briefly bit his own lip to stop it. “Okay, fine! Doflamingo wants a child with her. I don’t even know this girl or care what she thinks! But look at the full picture. What happens to queens that don’t hold up their end of the bargain in giving a man like that his heirs?”

Caesar rather gleefully made an exaggerated pantomime of moving his finger in a sharp slice against his own throat to this.

And finally, only at that insinuation of barbarism to a supposed innocent like yourself, did Vegapunk actually look him in the eyes. Secretly sympathetic as that fool could often be. 

“And how could I trust he wouldn’t still harm her regardless?” The older man asked, rightfully skeptical.

“Because it doesn’t matter of course! Doflamingo will be here tomorrow night to pick this up either way!” Caesar exclaimed, lifting the small vial he’d already made from his gaseous coat pocket. 

“But my serum for her will be meaningless if he isn’t capable of delivering on the other half of the equation!” Caesar attempted to reiterate that need for urgency as well. “After all these years of working together, you’re really just going to leave me hanging like this, Vegapunk?”

“You should be embarrassed is what you should be. You got yourself into this mess. And now you come to my lab, interrupting me just to admit you don’t know how to mitigate something as simple as varicoceles in the testes?” Vegapunk asked with further incredulousness.

Yet Caesar ignored that heavier insult just this once, eyes widening as he pointed at the other scientist instead. “Aha! So you did already look at the data to figure out a solution! I knew it! Your ego couldn’t help it, could it? You prideful monster!”

“Of course I can correct it! At least temporarily. His lineage factors are a mess of recessive alleles.” Vegapunk did look properly shamed for only that moment to be so called out though. “But how far were you planning on going? What’s in your serum that could conflict with mine if I do make one? Is this full blown eugenics?“

Caesar paused, his seeming victory only weakened in his belated realization that Vegapunk may have indeed noticed more disfunction in Doflamingo’s bloodline than he had at first glance.

But Caesar would never admit aloud that his own concoction could be even further insufficient then. Yet he knew just how to give Vegapunk that extra, personal investment to do the rest of the hard work for him.

“He was aware of Vinsmoke’s wife.” Caesar admitted abruptly there, feigning an extra somber expression even if this was actually the truth. “And Doflamingo was explicit about wanting both his baby and the womb owner to survive without permanent damage this time. So I’d say whatever it takes to ensure that.”

Vegapunk lifted up his goggles then, watching the gas logia user carefully. Those stressed brow lines were now wrinkling all the way up the older scientist’s unnaturally large forehead.

He had indeed taken that emotional bait when it came to thinking of Sora’s death.

A tragedy that his weaker heart did not think worth repeating.

“If you’re going to be like Judge to do this to some poor woman either way…it might as well be safe. Give me your serum so I can analyze it. I’ll come up with something.” Vegapunk sighed.

And Caesar smiled.

It really was too easy.

————————— 

The sun was beating down by midday. Hot and relentless, just the way Doflamingo wanted it to be for this as he stretched his long legs across your lap, relaxing on his outdoor couch together by the pool.

At least he was relaxing anyway. You were quite a different story.

You hadn’t yet recovered from his confessions of this morning. And well…also from the totality of every other thing that had occurred from the moment he’d first kissed your hand in front of those camera flashes in the bloodied ballroom in Scylla to today.

And it had only been days, not weeks since then. But he lived a fast paced life.

One which you were now living too.

The newspaper had finally come as well, just as over the top and simultaneously aghast and excited by his manufactured drama as expected. The world would be salivating to see the navy’s next official reaction to your and his sordid love story he was sure.

But you’d refused to read a word of it yet. 

Just as you also refused the untouched food still on the tray in front of you.

Only Doflamingo and his crew ate. Enjoying lunch and drinks as he took a few more phone calls while the other Donquixote members either sunbathed or played cards in the shade beneath the archways.

He’d left the palace gates closed. There were no money hungry sycophants in their little string bikinis bouncing around to distract him today.

He already had the pretty toy he wanted most right now.

Though you had needed a bit of help. He’d made you change out of the ugly clothes he knew you’d been hiding your wounds in this morning. 

So you were currently in a very short sundress he’d chosen instead. One he could tell you hated as his gaze rarely left your more exposed figure and bared shoulders while he talked on the phone.

He didn’t conduct any business conversations he was too concerned with you hearing though. He made sure of that. It was mostly just receiving flattery as other high ranking contacts of his called to offer their mix of congratulations and surprise.

Everyone wanted to know a wedding date. They wanted to know his next move with the marines. And if they knew him even a little better than most, then they were trying to get a sense of his motives too.

What was in it for Joker?

Surely Donquixote Doflamingo didn’t have a heart.

They all knew he already had money, power, and more lovers waiting in the wings than he could possibly run his cock through on any given night.

So what the hell could a random marine provide to him now?

And such burning curiosity about you apparently extended to his uninvited guests as well, just as Doflamingo had ended another call, returning the receiver back to his snail beside him.

The Tontattas had been especially bold ever since your arrival in Dressrosa. As if they really thought he hadn’t noticed their little scouts flitting about more and more often.

Target practice was all he’d call them whenever they failed to stay on his blind side though. And he enjoyed the way he did see you startle as that bullet string left his fingertip without warning.

The resulting pop of the then exploding terracotta roof tile he’d hit had his officers looking briefly skyward as well.

But there was no blood spatter running down the eaves this time, a rare miss for him.

“Just clearing some of the bigger bugs we get around here.” Doflamingo chuckled as his vague explanation to you anyway, kicking his shoes off then as he kept his legs still across your thighs. “They’re a nuisance.”

“I didn’t see anything.” You said quietly. The first words you’d spoken in a few hours at least.

“They’re fast.” He answered simply, albeit smiling just to hear your voice again.

It was true he hadn’t intended to have this morning go as oddly as it had with you.

But he hadn’t expected to find your tired eyes boring through him just like his brother’s used to either. Only complimented by the haunting smell of the cigarette smoke as it’d drifted from you like a vengeful ghost, there to grab a hold of him as soon as he’d reentered his suite.

It was too many memories for him, too many feelings all at once. And things had just started falling from his lips afterward.

He’d told you how you did remind him of Corazon. 

And how he couldn’t lose that twice.

How badly he wanted his blood family back.

And how he would make you be the means to that end in any way necessary.

But he hadn’t yet taken your contraceptive pills away either. Because you were this stressed already, even with you believing there was still more time for you.

He’d let you think you were still being protected by those pills for now. Not so much as a real mercy to you, but more because he wanted you to eat again. He needed you to relax again.

So that he could have you functioning to do what he needed to do with you. It made his life easier if you weren’t in a full blown breakdown twenty-four seven.

Though since you were already this upset this morning. There was one other thing he’d planned to now get out of the way as he felt that first bead of sweat running down his chest in this oppressive heat.

Doflamingo smiled wider at you as he slid his legs back off of your lap for his bare feet to meet the warm ground.

This dangerous idea was yet another reason he’d shut everyone but his most trusted out of the courtyard now.

“I think we should cool off, love.” He said so casually then too. His head turning to look briefly towards that tranquil water which sparkled in the sunlight without a soul yet within it.

And his sunglasses were just as reflective as that deep water when he looked back to you. You and the dark realization already beginning across your own face while his hand grazed your bandaged thigh.

That wrapping would just have to be redone again.

“I’ll get in if you do.” He promised then, but unable to keep the cruelty from his resulting smirk either. You were just too smart as he saw the correct assumption fill your eyes, hungover or not. You were learning the proper times to assume the worst in his intentions.

“But yes…you first. I want to see you swim for me.” He confirmed as his smirk grew into a grin.

“You already know I’m not a devil fruit user. A test isn’t necessary.” Came your first attempt at argument regardless.

And he’d known it would be this way. He had no illusions of you going easily to anything right now.

His executives were already getting up though, listening to you both as they began to spread out around the pool.

He had warned them of this earlier.

“Just like we knew my brother wasn’t hiding a power from us either?” Doflamingo tutted at you anyway. “Official records can lie, darling. And you’re so good at what you do. I just need to be sure this time. I’d hate to ever carry doubt of my own wife…that’d just be miserable for me.”

For him.

At least he said it out loud this time.

Because his own emotions were all he thought of as he refused any further stalling on your part. The sooner this was over, the faster he could return to the pleasure he wanted.

“I’ll be waiting for you on the steps. That will be your only way out.” Doflamingo spoke so calmly, even as he’d yanked you off that couch by your arm when he’d stood.

And you’d still almost set him off balance in return when the struggle began. No small feat for someone already injured and only partly his size. But his strings pulled your legs out from under you with equal vigor before you could kick him.

He had to be fast, very fast, throwing you before your strong grip could get a solid hold on him either.

There was no guilt in him either of course. No matter how many times you’d already gotten further upset over this exact kind of rough treatment.

Part of his shirt sleeve which you’d ripped still ended up in the pool however. Floating, torn on the water’s surface once that large splash collapsed back in on itself after you’d hit the water.

“She sank!” Trebol exclaimed, sounding delighted.

“Everyone does at first. It’s whether she comes back up or not.” Diamante answered slightly more sensibly, but looking at the still rippling water with an eager anticipation all his own. 

Doflamingo knew there was some jealousy at play in their excitement of course. They thought you hadn’t yet earned your place at his side.

And only they’d seen the mess he’d really been after Rosinante. To which they’d all vowed never again.

They had every right to be this overprotective of him now.

Doflamingo’s own grin had vanished with your body as he’d stalked the edge of the pool in that brief time between. His height giving him an excellent vantage point while the still disturbed water now lapped the sides.

“How long do you want to wait, Doffy?” Pica was the only one already sounding anxious by comparison. Pica’s devil fruit could lift the entire courtyard, and dump all that water in an instant if his master only bid it.

“Her wounded leg certainly won’t help her. Give it a little longer.” Doflamingo answered firmly.

He couldn’t let them rush things. Because this trial was actually two fold after all.

Part one was just to clear the last of his anxiety of your hiding any secrets like his last Corazon.

And part two…

“Remember, if she comes up at any of the sides, don’t let her out. She only leaves the pool through me.” Doflamingo reminded his men as he now removed the rest of his torn shirt.

He had seen the warped shape of you finally moving along the bottom. You weren’t paralyzed, though he hadn’t truly expected you to be. His stress could now shift to what he had to do next to himself. 

His men hadn’t liked this portion of the plan earlier when he’d said it in private. And they certainly didn’t enjoy seeing it in action now as Doflamingo first stepped off the side and onto the underwater stairs which led to the pool’s bottom.

But he’d timed it well, wading in only in his capris pants. The cooler water was all the way to his knees just as your head at last broke the surface.

You looked initially furious of course. Spitting out water and barely staying afloat, fighting your weakened leg just as he’d thought while you kicked hard to stay upright. Your feet were nowhere near the bottom in that deepest section of the pool.

And just as you’d spun to curse or even fight one of them, his breath had caught as he felt the paralysis begin through his own lower body all at once when the water met his thighs.

Doflamingo’s power was fully ripped away as he landed on his ass on one of those submerged steps. The water then up to his chest so quickly as he panted, his weight falling back just enough to touch his shoulders to the pool wall.

He’d barely managed to keep his arms above the water. Now only able to move them weakly as they laid limply stretched on either side of him along the pool’s edge.

This was much deeper than the time he’d sat in the bath with you. That time had only made him feel pleasantly sluggish on top of disconnecting from his devil fruit.

But right now, he couldn’t even have stood up if he’d tried.

And if he slipped further down or fell forward instead…

“So you can swim.” Doflamingo spoke through his now labored breathing, forcing a smile regardless of that near atrophy then spreading into his chest muscles. 

There was still a very specific high in this for him of course. The rush of experiencing such primal fear he rarely got to play with. Not when he was so much stronger than anyone else he normally faced. 

His crew was horror stricken to silence however. But the executives were keeping the officers dutifully back. Letting their insane master do as he wished. Even if it meant now handing himself to you on a platter just to see your reaction.

This second test was him wishing to confirm that additional difference between you and his brother in the end. 

And all the more reason he really had thrown you into the deep as violently as he could.

Because humans showed their true colors most in times of duress. And he already had an idea of what you really were. 

But he wanted to show the others. And he wanted to remind himself after he’d briefly seen his brother staring back at him this morning.

“The fuck.”

He saw you mouth those two words more than you actually said them as you finally saw him and his too precarious placement on those steps.

Your eyes narrowed and you took a sharp breath before going immediately back under.

It was easier for you to swim just beneath the surface, not fighting to keep yourself above it as the shape of you then moved towards him quicker than even he’d expected.

And he could still feel everything so acutely too as his body beautifully suffered. Your soft hands as they opened against his bare chest. Your knees as they bumped against his inner thighs.

You emerged right in front of him in no time at all, shoving him to put his back harder against that pool wall. The texture was so rough, scraping against his shoulders as he breathed louder.

“Was I already slipping, my love?” Doflamingo asked, trying to keep his head raised to watch you as a chuckle rumbled through him. You were fully holding his torso up by then.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!? You think this shit is funny!?” You bitched loud enough that every member of his crew surely heard you that time.

And it was a little frustrating to him, not to be able to just kiss you then and there with that lovely fear still in your eyes.

But he couldn’t move his body enough to do it. So he had to settle for another intoxicated smile instead. He couldn’t get enough of you like this. 

“You surpass every expectation…you really do.” He tried to purr through his panting.

Because he knew it.

It wasn’t just about this silly game for you. It wasn’t anything about this goddamn pool at all really.

Your eyes said everything you were feeling.

And so Doflamingo laughed, even as your smaller arms tried to catch under his and force him up one stair step at a time. Wet skin to wet skin as you fought his dead weight with no help from his crew.

Donquixote Doflamingo could make anyone do anything. He could beat them, break them, cut them, or shoot them.

But he couldn’t make someone care. 

Not the way you did, so naturally and sincerely.

You were too obvious, and he was loving every moment even as his back finally fell out flat and hard to the ground. Laying beside the pool with only his legs then still in the water as you nearly fell on top of him after forcing him out.

“You are too damn big! You fucking asshole!” You were breathing harder, in clear pain for the unexpected exertion you’d just endured.

No, you were not at all the next Rosinante in his mind at least.

Because your feelings for him were different than that, and his anxiety of this morning had finally quieted in this affirmation.

The heated air now against Doflamingo’s skin revitalized him rather quickly too. Only his knees were still bent over the pool edge with his calves and feet in the water as he grabbed you quickly before you could think twice.

“And you were so upset this morning…and for what?” He teased, pulling you down onto his chest to stop you from getting away. 

He didn’t care if the girls in his crew would already be blushing now. 

The two of you were laid in quite the compromising way then, glistening in the sunlight together.

Doflamingo was already strong enough again to grab one of your hands as he forced it over his still racing heart, continuing to talk to you. “Yes, you’re a marine. But the last one that lived with me aimed a pistol to this instead.” He said in reference to that hotly beating muscle inside, his mouth almost against yours too by then. “If I hadn’t answered with my own, none of this would be possible. Do you understand? He wanted to erase me…and you…” Doflamingo smiled, searching your still emotional eyes from behind his glasses.

“You only want to save me.”

He kissed you right after those words had left his lips, pulling you to him even tighter as he forced his tongue up into your mouth. 

He might have heard Baby 5 gasp. 

Maybe Dellinger had made a retching sound.

But they’d just have to get used to it. 

You were here to stay. And soon enough they’d have a new little brother or sister to go along with this perfect family addition.

—————————

“Vice Admiral Tsuru has abandoned her post in Lyra and is no longer updating her coordinates. At least on our channels.” Tashigi said quietly. “The fleet admiral has ordered no one to speak to the press. And there is still a travel embargo in place to Dressrosa per HQ. No navy ships are allowed to port there until further notice. This order will be strictly enforced by the sailors of base G-5 and their commander Vice Admiral Vergo.”

Smoker remained silent, looking out to sea as his subordinate gave her latest updates from the bulletins that had been coming periodically across the snails all day.

Some transmissions were official, some more secondhand, leap frogged in communications from navy ship to navy ship here in the New World as everyone clamored to make any real sense of this new humiliation.

“We’ll still beat Tsuru there.” Smoker finally said gruffly.

He was standing alone otherwise.

Even as much of a rookie as Tashigi still was, she was the only one willing to approach him after he’d exploded on the rest of the crew earlier.

Smoker had yelled, asking how braindead they had to be to believe these steaming piles of dogshit being purported as the truth about you now.

And he could rage at his own men to knock sense into them all he wanted. But he knew their opinions would now reflect the majority of marines regardless.

Doflamingo was purposefully cutting off your support.

Just as Smoker and Aokiji had both assumed that pirate would further try to.

Yet that didn’t mean that Smoker was reacting well either. And he was certain Aokiji would be laid over a bar somewhere in Marineford by tonight.

“Are you okay…Captain?”

Tashigi’s damned soft voice only irritated him further as he bit against his cigars. “Shut off all our snails from here out until Dressrosa is in sight. Then start the S.O.S. signals. Tsuru has the right idea about going dark. There’s nothing else we need to know about this. We stick to the plan and that’s the end of it.”

“Yes, Captain.” She saluted only half heartedly however before walking away to deliver those orders to the communications room.

She even had the audacity to look back over her shoulder too. Her concern so insultingly etched over every bit of her body language as Smoker tried and failed to focus only on the ocean’s windswept whitecaps still in the distance.

He was a practical man. A straight forward man who loathed the idea of ever living within the failures of the past.

Everything should only be the next step forward. The next answer to what existed now, not to what was before.

But even his resolve was not enough to overcome this twisting thing, now eating through his heart and mind as he went through cigar after cigar.

He didn’t care if you hated him any longer.

He only cared if you hated yourself. And if he had so stupidly contributed to it in the end when he’d thought he’d only been pressing you to be better.

You had never been in love with him. Smoker was still certain of this. You’d just been killing time. The two of you were friends that’d gone too far, because it had felt good and you’d both been so similar.

He could trust you and you could trust him. And for almost two years that had been enough.

Until it wasn’t. Until he’d wanted more and it had started to hurt. But you’d never change. And you couldn’t understand why it was wrong. 

Smoker had tried to pull back, expecting you to see it and cut him off with a vengeance. He had no insecurities that made him need to be the first to end it.

He’d wanted you to. To say you’d dumped him so you could walk on with your head held high. You’d needed that win far more than he did.

But you’d clung to him in your own way. And he’d been so irritated by it. Because in every other aspect of your life you were one of the fiercest women he’d ever known.

Yet you just wouldn’t walk away from him as many times as he’d tried to push you towards freedom.

The true end in his mind, being that last time the two of you had ever been physically intimate. Both your ships had been in a port in the East Blue at the same time. He had tried to have an honest conversation with you alone then. Because he’d never wanted to do something that serious over the phone.

But you’d wanted to go drinking instead, and he’d gotten all the more frustrated. Culminating in bending you over in the bathroom of the bar as he’d used himself up again inside of you.

He’d still wanted you so fully and he’d hated it. Because he’d seen your own anger and hurt. Drunk as you’d been, wanting his attention and affection even in the aftermath. 

He didn’t enable you further to give it that night though as he’d only refastened his pants and helped you straighten your skirt before making sure you made it back to your ship safely.

You were never ready to listen to him. And you’d probably cried that night. He’d stayed awake the entire time on his own ship, waiting by his snail.

Surely he’d thought you’d call cursing and fussing by then. That you’d finally break up with him and wake up to what you were really doing to yourself.

But it was so much worse than he’d ever believed.

Because the next time he’d seen you had finally been in Mariejois. And he couldn’t wait any longer by then. He’d prepared to say what you wouldn’t and cut you loose. 

And he’d known you wouldn’t handle it well. Tashigi had followed him to the courtyard, worrying as always. But Smoker had felt a rare dread in himself that morning.

Much like he did today.

You’d been using him to feel something. And he’d let you, until the day he couldn’t anymore.

It’d hurt like hell.

And it still hurt because he knew you’d learned nothing even as many times as he’d tried to show you. 

You’d pour yourself into every goddamn other thing but actually saving yourself. Chiefly your career and your shitty taste in men, himself included. 

You didn’t trust yourself to deserve better. You didn’t know your real worth. And now the absolute worst fucking candidate Smoker could ever think of had to have learned this about you too.

Smoker had done his damndest to make you take flight.

And all you’d done was double back right into the strings of the next man in waiting. 

One that wasn’t a man at all, but a demon to be beaten back before he broke your wings entirely.

But did you want Doflamingo to lose when it came to you? That was a question Smoker still couldn’t answer either. Despite all his bluster, defending you so doggedly before his own crew.

All he could really do would be to try and wake you one more time. 

And hope that this would finally be enough to be different somehow. That you would want to be free instead of just holding tighter to the chains you’d already made in your own mind.

The ones Doflamingo surely kept tightening once he had found them.

Hell itself couldn’t have dreamed of a worse combination than the two of you.

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

Author’s note: I’m pretty sure that in canon Law is the only person ever shown knowing of Rosinante’s devil fruit ability. For purposes of this story, I’m assuming some of the marines Rosi served with ended up also knowing. And Doflamingo dug up that information after his death, bothered by just how much else his brother may have been hiding from him. I didn’t want to spoil Doffy’s “are you or aren’t you a witch?” pool trick by posting this note at the beginning. 🫣

[luuknowsbetter]

Daylight. bucky barnes x reader

Plot: You had a bad day, and you come home sad and Bucky comforts you.

trope: Bucky barnes x F!reader

warnings; mentions of panic/anxiety attacks, low self-esteem and very fluff,with a bit of angst

I enter to the apartment, tired, sad and having a panic attack. Maybe this is not as i expected, no, today definitely did not go as planned. So i cross the door and Bucky appears from the kitchen,appearing with a smile when he hears that you are finally home, but it automatically fades when he sees you with a red face, a red nose and tears in your eyes. He quickly leaves everything on the kitchen counter to run up to me, and holds my face in his big hands while he looks at me worried, looking for any physical injury.

"What´s wrong doll..?"

he asks while he examines my face carefully, his icy blue eyes look at you with worry, one of his hands moves to the back of your neck and brings me closer to his chest, while his other hand is resting on my hip, making sure you are fine

"It happens that…I'm not enough anymore" I explain while crying trying to wipe away the tears with my hand

Bucky's grip around you becomes tighter at your words, he really can't believe that you are saying this

"What makes you say that sweetheart, you are more than enough. You are so..so so much more than enough, I don't want to hear you say that crap again, you are more than enough, you can do everything you put your mind to, doll, you ..are enough. And you deserve everything in the world"

"No, but…" I sob again, as i try to stop myself from crying "I'm not…good enough at what I loved to do before…I'm not pretty enough, nor smart enough, nor thin enough…"

He frowns at my words, grabbing my face firmly but being gentle at the same time, forcing me to look into his eyes

"Don't you dare say things like that. Don't say you're not good enough. You are good enough. You are a goddamn intelligent genius, you are so smart, you are the prettiest woman I have ever seen, and your body is...God..." He looks at my body from top to bottom, with a loving and somewhat lustful look, while he bites his lip and speaks again. "You have no idea what it makes me want to do with you everytime I see you, doll…"

I sigh, letting out a sob, while the tears continue to come out uncontrollably

"Why do I have the need to be perfect all the damn time? It's like… like there's a voice in my head that demands that I always be better now." I think I'm a mess and he keeps repeating my mistakes over and over again…" I let out a sob as my voice breaks, and Bucky strokes my back gently, trying to calm me down "And I can't even try to stop that voice and believe me I'd like to, believe me. But I can't…I feel…helpless"

Bucky just listens to you speak. Every word breaks his heart further. He can't understand why you believe those things. He holds you close to him again, one hand on the back of your head while the other strokes my back, his hand moving up and down, in a comforting, protective manner

"Darling..listen to me..you are not helpless, and you're not a mess, and you don't have to be perfect all the time. Don't listen to whatever that voice is telling you, darling, it´s not true, okay? you´re the most beautiful, talented, intelligent and capable woman I have ever met. and I love you, doll, I mean it. You are the best thing I have ever had, without you…without you I would not have been able to get up after everything that happened to me, you were with me and you helped me and supported me even in my worst moments, so, doll, I I'll help now…" Bucky says calmly, but you can tell he's serious, he gives your hand a light squeeze and smiles lovingly at you as he looks into your eyes.

"So darling, why don't we go take a relaxing bath while I prepare dinner and watch your favorite movies snuggled up on the couch?" He asks as he helps you up from the floor, and you walk towards the stairs to get to the bathroom. You smile at him, completely in love with him.

A couple of minutes later, you leave the bathroom, now calmer and wearing comfortable clothes, you head towards the living room silently, and there he is, juggling a couple of snacks, the TV control, tea and a couple of blankets to You, you realize how much trouble they took to arrange everything in the most beautiful way possible, the small table in front of the sofa has the pizza already cut in the middle, a couple of thin glasses with some wine already poured, and obviously, Alpine asleep on the couch. You smile and walk over to him to help him with the things.

"Hey" the soldier says with a small smile, once he sees you enter, you grab a couple of things and help him get everything perfect for movie night. And once everything is ready, he smiles at you again and leaves a small kiss on your temple, you both snuggle up on the couch and start eating and drinking while watching a Scary movie marathon.

An hour later, you had finished eating and were curled up on the couch with Alpine next to you. "How do you feel, doll?" your boyfriend asks softly, as he tilts his head a little to look at you and realize that you had fallen asleep in his arms, he smiles unconsciously like a teenager in love, and decides to take you to bed in his arms, after all, you were very tired after such a tiring day. Once in the room, Bucky changes his clothes and lies down behind you, snuggling up next to you again.

"Today was terrible, but you made this a beautiful moment, thank you for that my love, I love you" You murmur, still somewhat asleep. Bucky smiles and leaves a light kiss on your cheek, but not before whispering a small "You're the best, doll. I love you too" and with that, you both fall fast asleep.

HELLOOOOOOOOO

im bacckkkk. but no smut for today, today wass fluff 🤌🤌

i hope you guys liked itt and sorry if this was a bit different but I had something personal today, which made my mental health and self-esteem do this 📉📉 so i wrote this

[kyri45]

✨ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU Q&A (22-09)✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto:Hey your ISAT Sky: COTL crossover comic is what got me to try out sky, it's pretty fun even if players approaching me is a bit intimidating for my socially anxious self. The comic itself is pretty nice too and thank you for getting me into such a cute looking game :3

Thank you so much!!!♥️♥️♥️ sky is wonderful, it became my personal happy place!

@lunarmoff ha chiesto: Hello!! Hi, you probably have a lot of asks in your box but I wanted to thank you for getting me into isat! I first read your Isat sky au when I was in the sky fandom and I loved it even though I didn't know the characters at all! Now that I've gotten into the fandom and gotten to know the characters, I understand your au a lot more now. I love your art style and how you added a bunch of peoples sky kids into your story! I myself would have given you my sky kid but I found your comic a little to late to give them to you. Just know that I love your comic, and I can't wait to see how it ends!!!

AAAAAhhhhh that's awesome!!!So gad that you like ISAT! It's an emotional rollercoaster but it's soooo good!

@a-tired-human-draws-junk ha chiesto: I've been reading ur sky cotl x isat au and its driving me NUTS isat is a newer brainrot for me and sky is an OLD one like I havent played sky properly in over a year and you dragged me back into the game w ur comics DURING THE SEASON OF DUETS and I've been playing daily so I can get stuff AND I CANT BELIEVE AN ISAT AU IS WHAT DRAGGED ME BACK TO CANDLERUNNING HELL /lhj Anyways love the sky cotl x isat comics I see siffrin is still an idiot (Also I cant stop imagine siffrin honking at his family like a goddamn excited moth while running around them goofily as per average sky kid interaction and the mental image is so funny)

ASDFGHJKL YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I NEED SIFFRIN TO JUST- ACT LIKE A GOOFY EXCITED AND INNOCENT SKY KID AGAIN. HE'S JUST A LITTLE GUY!!!! HE DESERVE ALL THE HAPPYNESS AND FLUFF IN THE WORLD AND I'M HERE TO GIVE IT TO HIM (after I made him suffer hell of course)

@o-rainknight-o ha chiesto:I just want you to know that I love your art! It's so beautiful!Your LMK AU is amazing. I haven't played Sky in a while and I've never played ISAT but my sister has, so I know a little about it. It's also very pretty the way you draw it.Make sure not to overwork yourself too! We are all strangers here but a lot of us care :)

Ty!!!! I hope you get the chance to play sky as well!

@scarftale-bryan ha chiesto: Why did the lads skip the plains and wasteland?

cause I don't have the time or will to draw all 6 the realms. And also cause geographically, I don't know where the wastelands could be placed in Guadeloupe

Anonimo ha chiesto:

crying wailing throwing up over isat cotl i love it so much

AAAHH TY!!!

@puppetxtheatre ha chiesto: I don't even like sky but your comic was so good it convinced me to play ISAT and now I'm in love with the game thank you

WELCOME TO YOUR NEW HELL/pos

Anonimo ha chiesto: is it bad that i keep tricking myself into believing your isat comics are canon?

omg I myself have to do it otherwise I would just go insane over the fact we will never have comfirmation to what happened to the forgotten island

Anonimo ha chiesto:I don't know anything about children of the sky (is that the name???) but I really like ISAT and I ADORE your comic. I'm so pumped to see all them colors and pretty stuff in your awesome style

Thank you! Me as well omg you have no idea (even though then panels will take double the time to color

@kestrel-bee ha chiesto: Hihi!

I’m loving your Shadowpeach AU, loving the current angst :]

but when going through your profile I saw your ISAT x COTL AU, which reminded me of the fact that I’d been intending to buy ISAT for a long while, so I finally did.

That was yesterday and I am now 6hrs in. Thank you for the new hyperfixation material 🙏

LMAO THAT WAS ME. THE FUCK (I finished the game in 3 days.)

Anonimo ha chiesto:I would just like to say I am in LOVE with the way you draw the sky kids! This is making me inspired to draw my sky kid!!

Thank you!!!

@sunsetcannon ha chiesto: Considering I am both an ISAT fan and a Sky fan I'm going to be permanently rotating this AU in my head like it's a microwave so thank you for that

And I need you to know that unfortunately you'll remain in said microwave for a lot more/pos

@selfdestructivecat ha chiesto: Hello! I have a question about your ISAT: COTL AU comic! So Nesting guide was there! Does that mean that Season of Nesting had already happened in this universe? Presumably Season of Revival will be happening once the dust has settled on this comic and everyone works on restoring Aviary Village, so does that mean that Revival happens after Nesting in this timeline? And will Duets, the most recent season, also have happened before Revival? (I’m just very happy because now my skid, a nesting moth, canonically can exist in this au! XD)

You can find the timeline of the AU here!

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

Marry-Me-Salmon | Joel Miller x F!Reader

The amount of game Joel fics aren’t enough‼️ Taking matters into my own hands. Though I think they somewhat behave the same! I saw these recipes of “marry me salmon” going around and got inspired lol. Just tooth rotting fluff and a bit predictable but I just wanna see this man happy :(🩷

(Set in Jackson and Joel lives forever in MY blog ☝🏼)

Joel had bought a ring.

It was like his body moved on its own. When he laid his eyes on the thing, he thought there could possibly be no ring that could be more you.

That was a week ago. Why he bought it, he still doesn’t know. Well.. He knows exactly why. Just didn’t want to do it. Scared to do it. And this is coming from a man who isn’t scared of much.

You were arguably the best thing to ever walk into his life. Why you chose his hard-ass, he’ll never understand. After three years of you shutting him up and convincing him that you love him (you’d make him repeat it too), by default he’d say that yes, you do love him. But deep down, he still has a hard time believing it. He just knows that he’s a goddamn lucky bastard. And that he’s very scared of losing you.

So he decided, he doesn’t want to scare you off until he’s perfectly sure you wanted to be with him (yes, three whole years and he still isn’t sure). The ugly insecure monster within him thinks the day will never arrive. But in the comfortable silence that you two occasionally shared tangled with each other, he somehow had a feeling. Though fleeting, he did feel from the way you squeezed his hand, that you wanted this forever thing just as much as he did. So maybe — just maybe — your words did pierce through him. And he keeps the ring in his back pocket all the time just in case.

A week ago, you had overheard some ladies in the Square telling a story about how her husband of thirty-six years decided to propose to her because she cooked him the marry-me-salmon. You scoffed at the idea. There was no way it was that simple. Right?

Fast forward to present day, a salmon fillet was laid in front of you. You didn’t know how, you didn’t know why, but you managed to pull the strings. Although.. you know exactly why. Just didn’t wanna admit it. Shy to say it. Hence the salmon. You just wanted to cook Joel something nice. A lie you tell yourself.

The problem is, you don’t really cook. You learned to, yes, and occasionally do because of the situation of the world. But the marry-me-salmon intimidated you, the scribbled recipe mocking you from the counter. Were you too desperate? No use crying over spilled milk. Or in this case, killed salmon.

“What’s this I’m smelling?” You can hear the faint sound of Joel’s teasing as he made his way downstairs. You rolled your eyes, knowing he’d make fun of you attempting to cook. Before you know it, he was already behind you, trying to take a peek at what you’re making.

“Go away, it’s a surprise,” you quickly say, rushing to cover the recipe title. You would rather die than have him see that. He chuckled at your panicked reaction and raised his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, darlin’,” he grinned ear to ear, leaving a kiss on the top of your head before retreating to the dining table. “Just don’t burn down the kitchen,” he teased again. You clicked your tongue in annoyance though you can’t help but smile.

You messed up the recipe a bit. And it didn’t help that Joel kept looking up from the book that Ellie lent him to see what you’re cooking. You shouldn’t have said it was a surprise because you’ve got him awfully curious. At least it’s finally finished. You tried to plate it nicely, earning a few chuckles from Joel from how endearing you looked. It was lost on him why you had to be doing all this.

“And what did I do to deserve this?” He asked, cocking a brow at you when you put down the dish in front of him. He immediately closed his book, taking a whiff of the salmon. You could tell he wanted to be serious from how much effort you’re putting into this dish. Though it didn’t hide that he still sounded very amused.

“Just.. Cause I love you,” you smiled, taking a seat across him and propping your cheek on your palm. He chuckled again, warmth spreading in his chest. There was no way you cooked for him without any ulterior motive. If Joel learned anything from those three years with you, it is that you hate cooking unless you really have to.

But when you’re this beautiful, speaking to him so softly with that angelic smile? All for him? Joel chooses to believe you. He was a goddamn lucky bastard indeed.

“Well I love you too darlin’, thank you,” he says genuinely in that baritone voice of his. The sweetness of the moment didn’t last very long as he starts cutting the fish and you anxiously waited for his reaction. You just hope that the little mistake you made wasn’t very crucial to the dish.

For a split second, you felt so silly for caring so damn much about this salmon. Its credibility depending on just that one lady from the square and you believed it. But when Joel eventually puts it in his mouth and started chewing, you wanted to know anyway.

“Well?” You ask, not even giving him a second. He hummed, taking a moment to process the taste. It was quite alright. He thought it could use more salt.

“S’good,” he nodded with a little smile. You knew damn well he was lying. And you knew that he would finish the whole thing anyway just because you made it. You wondered if the mistake you made had been that bad or if the lady at the square was full of shit.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” You pouted, pulling the plate and taking a fork to taste it yourself.

“Darlin’, I said it was good,” he insisted, his brows knitted together. He’d tease you til his death but he’s so sweet when he needed to be. It made you feel really bad. You finally tried it yourself and none of you were exactly right. It was just.. Average. Okay. Edible. Just needed more salt. You felt silly for not giving it a taste test before serving it.

“I’ll fix it,” you say, abruptly standing up to look for the salt above the counter. It wasn’t there. You hurriedly searched the kitchen like a cop scanning for drugs.

“Darlin’,” Joel chuckled, standing with you. “Would you just sit down?” You didn’t listen, suddenly remembering that you ate breakfast in front of the TV and brought the salt with you. You were already running to the couch before Joel could stop you.

As he shakes his head with a loving smile, he sees it. The scribbled recipe on the counter. The marry-me-salmon.

He felt like the wind got knocked out of his lungs. This was it. You wanted to marry him. He quickly reached into his back pocket as if he was trained to do so upon hearing the information. His mind was screaming at him, now! Now! Now! Hell, did he even prepare a question?

You got back to the kitchen to find Joel on one knee. A ring between his thumb and his pointer finger. Funny enough, you thought it really was because of the salmon. In a way, it is kind of true. Are all salmons hexed with a marriage spell no matter how bad they taste? Doesn’t matter. Joel Miller, the love of your life, was finally proposing to you. You shakily exhaled as if you’ve been holding your breath for a while.

“Darlin’..” Joel began, his voice shaking. Though he didn’t really know what to say except for the desperation that he felt. The urgency to just be with you. “Please marry me?”

As tears formed in your eyes, still not believing what’s happening, you can’t help but ask him, “Is it because of the salmon?”

my masterlist

thank you for reading!! 🫶🏼

[i-smoke-chapstick]

Can I request a Gotham Riddler who's love language is gift giving and they give Riddler a question marked pin just before he goes to stage.

'MOVES,

-GOTHAM!EDWARD NYGMA X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; he's not used to being loved.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!edward x female reader. pure fluff!!! wrote headcanons cuz my inbox is overflowing so I hope that's okay!!! Ed being surprised since he's typically the giver in his relationships, hints of obsessive and dramatic eddie.

♫ “I know that you're scared someone's gonna ruin you / I'ma put some goddamn moves on you babe / I know you need it.” Moves by Suki Waterhouse

⋆ You are his number one cheerleader.

⋆ He feeds off the affection you give him, gets practically drunk on it. Both sides of him are reeling from the high you give him.

⋆ Eddie baby is typically the giver in all of his relationships; his love language is most definetly acts of service. He was so used to spending hours cooking for Kristen and helping around the house with Isabella. He is no different with you; any problem that arises, he is there.

⋆ Ed will do the dishes, cook, clean. He's a bit of a housewife. After being alone for so long when he was in the GCPD, he learned to take care of himself and he learned to do it well. Besides, he's a bit of a neat freak already, so he doesn't mind whatsoever. You'll wake up to expertly cooked breakfasts, tea or coffee or water (whichever you prefer) filled in china cups.

⋆ Now, what he isn't used to is someone reciprocating the act of love. Kristen and Isabella, put simply, didn't do very much. They didn't live long enough to do so

⋆ When you give you're first gift to him, he cocks his head and narrows his eyes. Give him a second to process.

⋆ Then his eyes light up with a smile so big and you're scared he might combust.

⋆ From then on, from each one of your gifts- he's spouting numerous "I can't thank you enough,"s and even apologies. The feeling of being spoiled is so foreign to him that when he is- he feels like he needs to reciprocate it tenfold.

⋆ "Are you sure there isn't anything else I can help with...?" After he's already ran all your errands for you, made your bed, and given you the best massage of your life.

⋆ His favorite gift by far has to be the delicate question mark brooch.

⋆ Eddie's all about appearances, and when he's on a special "riddler high" he's all about how he looks.

⋆ He's a BIG fan of presentation.

⋆ So right when he's about to hijack the Macbeth stage, and you come up to him, he's hanging off your every word- eyeing the box in your hands mysteriously.

⋆ You present the gift to him, and he slowly opens it- careful not to damage it. Anything from you is precious and deserves to be worshipped.

⋆ When he see's it he nearly doubles over, mouth hanging in agape before spreading into an open-mouthed grin. A soft gasp and chuckle leaves his mouth.

⋆ He's turning to you, smile never leaving his face. Before you know it, he's on you- confidence and adrenaline running high before the big show.

⋆ He kisses your cheek, holding you close to him, practically breathing you in. His head is nuzzling into the crook of your neck and gloved hands are gripping you tight.

⋆ "Oh, thank you very much." He's growling out against your ear, both genuine and a bit unnerving. He's already thinking of ways to spoil you once he's finished up this little activity of his.

⋆ 100% asks you to put it on him, reveling in the feeling of you grabbing his suit jacket and adjusting his tie. He's looking at you like you're the only good thing in the world. And you're all his.

⋆ You give him one final kiss before he has to go.

⋆ "Dashing." You remark, looking up at him through your lashes. Oh, you're gonna be the death of him. "Break a leg."

⋆ He's giggling like a school girl at you're words, nodding.

⋆ He is gonna make this his best show ever for you.

[margowritesthings]

The Greatest Gift A Cowgirl Could Ask For

a @rdrevents Valentines gift exchange for @cowboydisaster

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader word count: 4,400 words warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, sexual themes, vaginal sex, mentions of death, unprotected sex, throwing up (TW EMETOPHOBIA), very brief mention of SA in the past, unexpected pregnancy, mentions of Micah Bell a/n: am I britney spears in her 2000 grammy award winning song??? because oops, i did it again. i don't know how I managed to get Bea as my recipient for a SECOND time, but it only felt right to carry on building this universe I've made for her and lying to her about it all week. Whoops.

Bea, my beloved, Happy Valentines Day. You deserve the world and Im so glad I could dedicate this fic to you. Honestly I probably couldn't have gotten the motivation to get back on my feet and write again if it wasn't for you. Thanks for everything you do bby and I hope this lives up to your 'if by some miracle you get me for your gift exchange disregard my prompts and write a TGG prequel' (yes she actually said that) idea. Love you lots xxx

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @luvliewriting @mrsarthurmorgan7 @photo1030 @snobbybastard

My Darling Wife,

I’m writing to you from up near Tempest Rim. I’ve tracked this bounty all over the goddamn Grizzlies and I’m ready to come home to you. I miss you so much and I’m real sorry I can’t be home in time for St. Valentines. Hopefully I can catch this bastard soon and make it up to ya. We’ll go to the theatre and sit right at the back, how’s that sound? I’ll move heaven and Earth to be beside you soon, you know I will.

I can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. I’ll be there as fast as I can be with enough money to take you out on the town. Won’t be long, I promise. 

All my love, Arthur

All my love, Arthur

All my love, Arthur

Your finger runs over his looped script, over and over as if it will somehow will your husband out of the crumpled paper and into your bed. It’s been 2 months since the letter arrived, 2 months of the agony of not knowing if he’s dead or alive robbing you of sleep each and every night. You miss him, more than you could ever imagine one person could miss another and you honestly don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t come home. 

It’s a 600 dollar bounty, it’s sure to be a tough job you constantly reassure yourself, unable to focus on anything but the absence of half of your very soul in every waking moment. 

The day he comes home starts like any other. Time's arrow marches on, the sun rises and sets over your makeshift family as they work and plan and rob and hunt. You busy yourself planning a job with Karen, cushioned into your schedule between menial tasks so that it’s just that bit easier to not think about him. As usual, your efforts are in vain, but at least the chores are done, your steed Diesel is happy, and, all being well, you and Karen will have about 30 dollars to split between you when the week is out. 

An hour before he comes home, everyone retires to bed, save for John (who’s on watch tonight) and you’re left alone by the campfire. It crackles and pops, embers swirling the air around you. It feels like you stare at the twisting flames until your eyes blur and burn and you can’t tell which are tears of irritation to your senses and which are your heart breaking once more.

Moments before you’re reunited with the second half of your heart, you hear John yelling. It’s instinct that drives your hand into your holster, still resting against your hip despite the late hour, and you perk up like a startled deer, straining to decipher Marston’s words.

“Who is it?!” “Arthur, you dumbass!”

Arthur.

Arthur?

“Arthur?!” It’s a breathless shout, barely heard over the rushing blood in your ears as your feet take you to your husband before your mind can even fathom that he’s here. 

But sure enough, when you reach the edge of camp, heart racing, you see Arthur Morgan riding his chestnut mare straight towards you, spurring her into a gallop as soon as he lays his eye on his waiting wife. Marston probably makes some remark about who ‘decided to show up’, but to you, there is nothing but you and Arthur, two magnets parted by an unnatural force finally reaching each other again with a deafening crash. 

And it is. A crash, that is, when Arthur all but throws himself off his saddle and your bodies collide, great big arms wrapping around your frame. It is then that the tears fall down your cheek, soaking into Arthur’s coat that smells so much like him it truly feels like a dream.

You thought he was dead.

Only when you’re safely in his arms, when he’s pressing frantic kisses to your head, whispering your name over and over into your hair do you allow yourself to admit that fact. You thought he was never coming back, and yet here he is. Words fail you, the overwhelming emotion settling right in your throat.

“Oh, god… oh, darlin’ I-I missed you so much…” 

You feel two large hands cup your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss that holds everything and anything the past 3 months could have been had you not spent it apart. But everything fits back into place, the world starts spinning again and you’re whole the second Arthur Morgan’s lips meet yours. It lasts a lifetime, it lasts a fraction of a second. You want to stop time, keep Arthur in your arms forever and never again have to go through the torture of being away from each other. The two of you only part to throw near identical scowls at John, who is amusing himself by telling you to get a room.

Unfortunately, as Ms. Grimshaw so often reminds you all, the Van der Linde Camp is not a hotel, so tonight you will not be afforded the luxury of a private suite as John so kindly suggested. There is only your tent, hitched against the gang’s weapons wagon, the old canvas pulled around to offer a little privacy when you and Arthur first started… well, needing the seclusion.

Calloused fingers intertwine with your own digits, Arthur’s other hand flipping John off before his weight pulls you towards your little corner of camp. There's so much purpose in his stride, the need to have you all to himself, not even share you with the lord above or wildlife below, driving him forward. Driving him home. 

When you’re finally, truly alone, the tears welling in your eyes glistening in the candlelight, no words are needed. Soon enough, you’ll talk for hours on end, catching each other up on every little detail of the last few months. But for now, all that there is and all that could matter is right this very second, when Arthur reaches for you, brushing a thumb over the tear tracks on your left cheek. His eyes, looking almost emerald in the dark of night, roam over each and every detail of you with such an intensity in him that you think he’s trying to remember this moment for the rest of time. You’re sure it’s one you could never possibly forget. 

Arthur snakes both arms around your waist, guiding you backwards until the backs of your knees gently hit the cot and you lay back onto it. He covers the full length of you and then some, making you feel so fragile and small. It’s nice to feel breakable for once, to let go of the need to be the strongest in the room, lest you be ridiculed for being too sensitive or too weak or too womanly. Arthur knows just how strong you are, you need to prove nothing to him, so you can submit to his embrace, allow yourself to just breathe for once knowing you can break and there’s re will always be somebody to put you back together.

He lowers himself to your lips, pressing a kiss to them that doesn’t last nearly long enough. Arthur then kisses your nose, then your cheeks and chin, before trailing down to the crook of your neck. Your skin feels as though it’s on fire, so starved for the man you cannot live without that now he’s finally here everything feels that much more intense. The tiniest scrape of Arthur’s teeth against your flesh shoots through every single nerve in your body and you moan right into his ear. You can actually feel him harden against your thigh at the sweet melody of your pleasure. 

Pushing Arthur’s hat off to the side, your fingers rake through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp encouragingly as he nibbles at your skin.

“Oh, Arthur… Oh, I missed you so much…” You breathlessly whisper, feeling your heart skip a beat when he pauses his movements to glance at you from under impossibly long eyelashes, jade green eyes glistening up at you.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. So so much.” His voice is soft, as if he’s handling the peacefulness around you so delicately and it causes the overwhelming emotion to well in your chest and choke up your throat. Arthur sees this, trying not to be too taken with his own surprising amount of emotion himself, and relieves you of your job of a response by directing his attention to the buttons of your shirt. You don’t remember him pushing your jacket off your shoulders, but there it lies on the floor beside the entrance to your tent, so he must have.

Despite the juxtaposition of such dainty buttonholes and such large fingers, Arthur expertly undresses your top half until you’re bare to him. He takes no time at all to take one of your nipples into his mouth, kissing and sucking at it with a hunger you feel right in your toes. You moan loudly, unable to stop yourself after yearning for this very feeling for so long. 

Arthur coos and shushes you and it vibrates across your skin, not helping you stay quiet in the slightest. The hand not tugging on his dirty blonde locks reaches between your two longing bodies to begin to unbuckle his belt. You can feel your own heartbeat throbbing between your legs, your coil growing tighter and tighter by the second. It’s been almost 3 months since your bodies have joined like this, and yet you’re not sure you can wait another minute. 

You’re purring for Arthur, twitching and grinding as your hand fumbles desperately at the belt. His absence from your skin is agony the second he pulls his hips back to sit up straight. Spotting your downright bratty expression, bottom lip protruding in a pout, Arthur chuckles lowly, “Patience, baby… I gotta get these damn clothes off us.” He gestures to his belt, still very much buckled around his waist. Definitely not your fault. He was being far too distracting.

He’s quick, you’ll give him that, shedding his clothes without taking his eyes off you. You burn under his stare, even more so when he crawls back on top of you to slide your boots off one by one and peel your pants and undergarments down your legs.

The heat radiates off his huge body, his cock pulsing with need. The way he’s putting his weight into his arms to stop from crushing you with his weight adds a definition to his already beautifully sculpted body. Reaching down, you brush the tip of your finger oh so gently over his rosy head, finding a bead of cum already leaking, and you snap. You can’t wait a second longer, scratching and gripping at him like he’s the air you need to breathe.

“Please, Arthur, please I need you. S-So long, it’s been so long-” “Shh, I know, princess, I know. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Gonna take care of your pretty little cunt, I promise.” He soothes you, though his own voice is shaky from the very effort of restraining himself, maintaining his control to not drive into you and ruin you. While he whispers to you, he lines himself up at your entrance and you quiver in anticipation.

In all your years before you met Arthur, you never really saw sex as anything but something to give, or worse, something to be taken from you. You never truly understood, not until you met Arthur, who taught you it’s something to share, to experience. With Arthur, it’s different. It is connection and pleasure and it’s wonderful and god damn it, it’s addictive. So when Arthur slides into you, letting out a visceral, guttural groan as he does, everything is right in the world.

You feel so full, especially when Arthur pushes all the way to the hilt, connecting you completely at the pelvis. The moan that escapes your lips is downright obscene and Arthur crashes down into your mouth to swallow it. 

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s been so long, or the emotion of it all, but you swear you can feel everything. Every vein and ridge, every twitch and movement of his perfect cock as Arthur slowly starts to move in and out of you. 

“Fuck… s-so good, darlin. So tight- y’feel so fucking good, princess…”

You’ve never hurtled so close towards a climax so quickly in your life. His torturously slow, deep thrusts drag into your sweet spot every fucking time and trying to hold back brings a blur into your vision. Your own hips grind against his, Arthur gripping into your flesh to guide you perfectly in time with him.

“I-I’m so close already, Arthur… fuck…” You breathe out, your breath tickling Arthur’s ear and sending a visible shudder down his spine. He looks proud at your admission.

“You missed me that much, huh? Gonna cum for me already, darlin’?” 

He gives you no time to respond, pressing a thumb to your clit and rubbing in time with everything else. You implode, pulling Arthur down to catch the scream you’re about to wake everybody up with. It has never felt so intense, and with every thrust Arthur fucks into you it only grows and grows, shattering you to pieces for Arthur to fix back together again. 

When you return, a rhythmic thudding in your ears, the first thing you see is Arthur, of course. His jaw is fluttering madly, a bead of sweat clinging to his forehead but the candlelight makes him look ethereal. You still can’t believe he’s here, alive.

Tears start to glisten in your eyes. You’ve never cried during sex before, not for anything positive, at least, but somehow this doesn’t feel wrong. Arthur slows again, watching you, and you spot an extra shine to his own jade orbs. He knows. He feels it too. 

He’s right there with you. As he always is.

He brushes a piece of hair stuck to your forehead away, and the gesture is enough to send the tears falling down the same worn path on your cheeks as before.

“I love you, Mr. Morgan…” “I love you, Mrs. Morgan…” 

It seems to become too much for Arthur to stay still, and you’re glad for it. You’re desperate for the friction, already flying towards another orgasm. He’s really fucking into you this time, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. He’s groaning and growling and you decide in that moment that it’s your favourite sound in all the world. 

“I… I ain’t gonna last much longer, baby…”

“C-Cum in me…” “Huh?” He slows, shuddering at the exertion required to control his movements, “I-”

But you’re not listening to his protests, your nails digging into the skin of his back and ass and anywhere else you can reach to urge him forwards again.

“Please Arthur, I-I need you… I need you to cum with me, I need you with me…” you plead with him, not truly understanding your need but honouring it. You’ve been without him for so long, you deserve him with you now.

He appears to consider you for just a moment, before diving down to lock your lips with his. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting every bit of you and he starts to pump into you unreservedly. His body grinds against yours and the friction is perfect and you’re so fucking full and before you can even try to hold back, you’re cumming again, stars scattering your vision, heart pounding out of your chest to find release from it’s mortal, physical cage. Your inner walls twitch around Arthur’s length and this time, he doesn’t hold back either. 

His eyes fly open and lock onto yours as you both climax together. It’s vulnerable and strange, but perhaps more connected than you ever thought possible for two people to be. 

Arthur’s cock twitches inside you, pumping out his spend as he groans viscerally, completely losing control of his rhythm as he thrusts into you one last time, harsh and deep. You’ve never experienced this before, with Arthur or any other man, normally erring on the side of caution when it came to such matters, but even as you come down you can’t bring yourself to regret it. Whatever you and Arthur just experienced together felt spiritual, and worth much more than a little risk.

Arthur collapses, even as depleted as he is still considerate enough to collapse onto his elbows and not crush you. He slides out of you, earning a little wince, and rolls to the side so you can rest your head on his chest. It’s like a locket that’s been ripped apart, finally fixed together with the most satisfying click. 

═══════☆═══════

Two months later, life has returned to its equilibrium. You and Arthur are perhaps clingier, still in a sort of second honeymoon phase where you just can’t seem to keep your hands off each other, more so than usual. It’s a side effect of prolonged solitude, you’re sure.

The first time it happens, you blame Pearson and think nothing of it. It’s pretty early in the morning and you’re sitting with Tilly and Abigail, peeling potatoes for the stew tonight. Abigail is venting her frustrations about when John did this and John said that, and everything feels so normal. Pearson arrives, throwing a rather large, rather dead fish onto the table you’re leaning against and you feel the thud from the weight of it vibrate against your back. 

It isn’t until the smell invades your senses that everything starts to feel off. It smells exactly like all the other fish Pearson has ever slammed onto that poor table, which doesn’t explain why you immediately lurch forwards, grabbing an empty bucket and throwing up your breakfast. The fish stench is suffocating and all you can do is get the hell away from it, not noticing when Abigail’s brows knit together almost… knowingly?

You skip the stew that night. 

―

The second time it happens, you try not to think about it. You’re riding Diesel and almost don’t make it off him in time. There is nothing to set you off, no horse shit or rotting animal at the side of the road, and yet in an instant your stomach feels like it has been flipped upside down. 

The sheer volume of your retching catches Arthur’s attention and he tugs on the leather reins in his hands to steady his mare. 

“Darlin’? Y’alright?” 

His concern is evident in his tone and in the tight line between his brows, which deepens when he finds you unable to respond in anything but a frantic nod. He dismounts, spurs clicking against the dusty ground when he approaches you. 

“Oh, sweetheart… that’s it, easy, easy… you’re okay…”

You feel gentle circles rubbed into the tense muscles of your back as you try to get through this again. It’s not lost on you that Arthur is speaking to you like a spooked horse, but it actually really does help. (You decide to prioritise peace of mind and not psychoanalyse why that is). Eventually, it relents and you regain your composure, albeit somewhat less gracefully than you’d have liked. 

“Sorry… I don’t know what’s gotten into me, maybe I ate somethin’.”

Your apology for something you can’t help earns you a sad smile from your husband, who places a loving kiss on the top of your head before reaching for your discarded hat and putting it back on for you.

“Y’don’t gotta apologise. I gotcha, darlin’.”

You know he does.

He always does.

―

The third time it happens, the luxury of denial is stolen from you. It’s early enough that your view while you sit with Abigail drinking coffee involves glorious hues of orange and pink scattered around the rising sun. It’s peaceful, tranquil. The warmth of the little metal mug in your hands and Arthur’s jacket around your shoulders is enough to ward off the fresh morning chill in the air.

There is absolutely no warning when it hits, when it happens again. You’re so goddamn sick (no pun intended) of hurling. Your eyes water and your throat hurts a little and you curse under your breath when it’s over. Abi is beside you, rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. She waits until it’s over before speaking hesitantly.

“Uh, can I ask you somethin’?” 

You nod, eyes still red and glistening as you swirl coffee around your mouth to take away from the awful, acidic taste lingering. 

“When did you last bleed?”

“What, like an injury? Uh, I cut my hand couple days back, but I don’t see what-“

… Oh fuck. 

═══════☆═══════

The anxiety bounces around your body and you decide that you’ve become far too acquainted with the concept of nausea. You can actually tell the difference between nerves  twisting your stomach and… well, let’s say it as it is:  morning sickness. This is the former, you deduce, spinning both your engagement and wedding ring around your finger to give your hands something better to do than carve fingernail-shaped moons into your palm. He should be home any minute now. Any minute now and it will all change forever.

It’s quite late, but the poker game Arthur was scoping out for potential jobs is known to last a while. You’re the only one still awake, poking the embers of the campfire to keep yourself as comfortable as possible. 

You hear hooves hitting dry dirt first, and it seems to trigger your fight or flight response. God, you’d love to run away from this, but that is pretty much impossible, so fight it is. It’ll be the greatest fight of your life, you’ll soon learn, one you’re privileged to be a part of. But right now, it feels like an all-consuming unknown. 

Arthur can tell something is wrong the second he sees you. You’re terrible at hiding things, especially from him. He always reads you as though you have a poster advertising your feelings printed on your forehead. Arthur dismounts, kissing you tenderly on the temple and wrapping his arms around you.

“What’re you still doin’ up, darlin’? Is everything alright?” You can feel his worry vibrating in his chest as you nuzzle into his embrace. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just… Can we talk? I kept the fire goin’.” You say it into his shirt, reluctant to move from this hold.

“Of course…” there’s something in his voice, a tense apprehension that really doesn’t help the knot contorting itself in your gut. 

While you’re more than capable of keeping a fire going, Arthur is an expert, and has it healthily burning within seconds of you sitting down on the overturned log the gang has fashioned into a bench. You’re back to spinning your beautiful gold bands around your finger, trying to remember to breathe in and out every so often.

“What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?” His voice is so soft, so kind that it makes you want to cry. But you promised yourself you wouldn’t until you’d told him, because this might just be the most important conversation you’ve ever had, and you definitely won’t get through it if you’re a blubbering mess.

“I, uh… I… somethin’s happened.”

You hear his breath hitch in his throat and Arthur leans towards you, completely enveloping your hands in his. They’re sandwiched in now and you can’t fiddle with your rings anymore.

“What? What happened? Was it Micah? If he’s said somethin’ to you, I’ll kill him, the rat bastard-”

“No, no, it’s… as much as I’d love to see that, it’s not him.” 

The tension releases. Just a little bit.

“I’m pregnant.” 

Oh wait, there it is. 

The silence is deafening, even though you’re almost certain it isn’t actually silent out here right now. There's a fire going and crickets are just metres away, you’re just shutting down with nerves. 

The normally so often tense, fluttering jaw of Arthur Morgan is slack, his eyes wide and gaping at you, occasionally flicking down to your so far bump-less belly. (You should know- you’ve been obsessively looking in a mirror any chance you get for some sort of sign that this is really happening). 

Say something. Please say something. Please don’t be angry. Oh, God please don’t hate me. 

“I-I… You’re pregnant?” He repeats, reassuring you that you haven’t actually gone deaf, though his tone holds no indication of anything but shock. That’s probably fair…

You nod, hands instinctively reaching over your belly. It feels… weird. Holding your hands over your baby. Yours and Arthur’s baby. 

“It happened a couple months back, when you got back from The Grizzlies, I think… I-I’m sorry, Arthur. I shoulda’ been more careful and-and…” You’re rambling, filling a silence that probably should just be allowed to be a silence.

“There… There’s gonna be a baby?”

There. Right there, adorning Arthur’s beautiful features, is the pull of a smile. It chokes you up instantly, so far deep in nightmares of arguments and unhappiness that you hadn’t even considered the good. You start to nod, a little bit of your fringe falling in your face.

“Yeah… There’s gonna be a baby. Our baby…”

“Our baby…” He repeats, his arm raising to brush the hair away from your eyes in such a natural manner it feels like it’s just his instinct to care for you. It is his instinct to care for you, Arthur has shown you that in every minute of every day of your marriage, and suddenly you’re not sure why you’ve been so scared. 

“I’m gonna be a dad?” He still seems in disbelief, but that’s normal. It’s taken you a few days to come to terms with it, and even then the fingernail marks in your palms are still red raw. 

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

It hits him. Really hits him and he all but throws himself into you, scooping you up and spinning you around as he laughs unreservedly.

“Well goddamn, I’m gonna be a Daddy!” 

You laugh with him, worries and anxiety a distant memory as your feet swing around in the air. You’re probably waking the camp up, but you don’t care all that much. Right now, you’re the happiest girl in the world.

A baby. There’s gonna be a baby. Arthur’s baby.

Really, it’s the greatest gift a cowgirl could ask for.

[colourstreakgryffin]

I saw this image on Pinterest and it made me giggle a lot. May I request a Choso x Female Reader fluff oneshot based on this? Like after this awkward encounter choso attempts to talk to someone else which is reader who is actually really kind and is actually willing to make conversation with Choso making him feel human 😊

Oooh! Definitely! That’d be a amazing concept for our dear big brother Choso himself. He deserves so much love and affection so goddamn yes, I am going to write this. Love the idea, big credits to you! And sorry, this is also short and bad

Kamo Choso- One of the Same

Choso did not suspect this whatsoever… he didn’t suspect you to be so friendly, sociable and open-hearted. Almost everybody here are hardened and closed-off, that it’s almost tiresome. He cannot help but feel that you don’t belong within this team. You’re glowing with positivity and shining brighter than the sun, willing to talk to somebody like him whilst Kashimo, the first person Choso tried to communicate with, immediately ignored him and rightfully ignored him

Choso is so confused, even though he was the one who approached you, defeated and certain he’d get rejected again, as he listens to you talk to him and he answers after a bit of hesitation and timidity. He isn’t the best at social situations, clearly very socially-inept and whilst he wanted to know what friendship is like, outside of guarding and caring for his beloved little brother Yuji, he isn’t actually ready to handle such a extroverted, kind person like you. It doesn’t mean he will walk away now

He actually really appreciates how sweet you are, it’s a rarity to find a sugary gemstone within this dark cruel world

Choso… feels like a person when he talks to you. The way you smile genuinely, the way you respond excitably at his every small comment, the way you look at him like he isn’t a Cursed Object called a ‘Death Painting’. He feels likes you, that he isn’t a monster at all and that was has drawn him to you in such a small time

Choso went from just standing in the corner, only communicating with Yuji when he needed to, to full-blown talking to and nodding in response to you, the kind gentle member of this little Sorcery squad. Sitting down with you on a nice big rock whilst the group had been setting up camp outside during this whole Culling Games, Yuji feels immense pride for Choso, for his ‘older brother’ finally being able to branch out and find a new friend. It doesn’t help that Choso finds you very pretty

He could listen to you talk to him anytime and he is pretty glad he gathered back enough self-confidence to approach you on his own. He has his first ever non-family friend he wished he had made beforehand and he really likes this warm, fuzzy feeling you’re giving him as you keep hearing him out and boosting him up to speak more. He is still little and quiet whilst having this conversation, but he feels less isolated and alienated. He feels like he can say anything and be supported

In reality, you’ve always liked how cool and loving he is to his brothers so you’ve been wanting to talk to him seperately for a while now. You can see why Yuji has decided to ally with him, Choso is a wonderful person, even if he is a Cursed Object to his core. Yet, this Cursed Object really likes the pretty sorcerer listening to him and flashing that gorgeous smile on her pretty face

“Well… do you have any siblings, Dokusha?”

[baestruly]

❝she’s so beautiful, and i tell her everyday.❞ bruno mars

( 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 ⋫ 𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖎 )  jj maybank x insecure!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - talks of insecurity and self doubt if thats a triggering topic for some

authors note - quick head canon

✩  would constantly reassure you that you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, even though you consistently say he only says that to be nice.

✩ he gets mad because of this because he wishes you could see yourself through his eyes. 

✩ would literally make a whole ass list one night if he was late home or something, and leave it on your bed saying all the things he loves about you.

✩ yeah i believe jj’s second love language is words of affirmation.

✩ lots of kisses.

✩ he would kiss all of your insecurities, as if his lips can make it all better and you appreciate him so much for it.

✩ by now, he knows when you’re over thinking because you always fidget with your fingers and pick at the skin around your thumbs when feeling anxious.

✩ whenever that happens he holds your hand. 

✩ literally can sense how overwhelmed you are, and he feels it even more because he hates how you feel like that. 

✩ once again, lots of reassuring and kisses.

✩ ❝what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, baby. tell me everything, let it out, i’m here.❞

✩ oh, and if he catches people making fun of you or your insecurities, he will fight.

✩ ❝jj! just calm down!❞

✩ ❝can’t believe them━━looking at you as if you aren’t the sexiest goddess ever, i’m gonna fuckin’ make them blind so they’ll never look at my pretty girl again, they don’t deserve to admire this.❞

✩ you think it’s so stupid, but you laugh it off with him. 

✩ he’s very touchy, as if you’re fragile. he just wants to make sure you know how much you’re worth.

✩ every time you look in the mirror and he sees you groan in frustration as you pick at the clothes on your body or tears form in your eyes on bad days, he comes up and wraps his arms around you from behind and reminds you how beautiful you are.

✩ he will do this literally right when you wake up.

✩ like, you could be waking up sweetly and suddenly, jj’s already in your face to tell you how beautiful you are and how much he loves and appreciates you.

✩ ❝morning, pretty girl.❞

✩ ❝you look so beautiful when you sleep, baby.❞

✩ more kisses.

✩ sometimes there are days when you feel good about yourself, and on those days jj does nothing but hype you up. he’s super encouraging.

✩ but he can also tell when you start to feel insecure again if your mood changes, and he will keep reminding you that you’re amazing and complement little things to hype you up like if he notices you’re wearing new brackets, necklaces, or trying a new hairstyle. 

✩ would definitely be the best photographer. 

✩ well━━maybe not.

✩ ❝oh my god, you look stunning, princess.❞

✩ ❝a dream━━❞

✩ ❝jj! are you even taking the goddamn photo!?❞

✩ ❝oh shit!❞

✩ and when he does, he’s too busy admiring you that the photos are terrible. they’re all blurry and uncentered.

✩ but he still agrees to keep them, unless you beg to delete them ofc🫶🫶

✩ if he’s taking photos on the polaroid camera, he’s totally making a banner of them when you get home.

a/n: remember, every single one of you is beautiful. looking a certain way to be pretty is bullshit, we wouldn’t all look different if that was true. we are all pretty in our own ways and when you’re feeling down, remember there’s someone in the world who would kill to look like you, or have one of your insecurities that you hate that others think are beautiful.

embrace yourself for who you are bae<3 bc you’re hot asf

also request anything! 

masterlist              jj masterlist

[raindailies]

HIHIIII<33 i really loved ur shu fic,, ur such a talented writer 🥹🥹 (tumblr yaminions are currently in drought) and i remembered you wrote this!! if ur reqs are closed rn,, pls ignore this 🩷🩷

could i req a gn!reader fluff, as mornings with shu? 🥹🩷

thank u sm!! have a nice day ml <33

xoxo, saku 🤍

HIHIHII SAKU!!! TYSM FOR REQUESTING <33 TUMBLR YAMINIONS REALLY ARE IN DROUGHT 💔

OFC I WILL WRITE MORNINGS WITH SHU AAJAJS

pairings: GN!READER X SHU YAMINO

info: pure teeth rotting fluff of my favorite boy shu yamino himself. What are mornings with Shu like?

warnings: none <3

𝐒𝐇𝐔 𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎 ✦ !

So we know that Shu barely sleeps

This guy I swear he's really stubborn when it comes to such stuff

BUT-! He has a soft spot for you, and specifically you and you only

If someone else were to tell him to go to sleep he would kindly refuse, but you? How exactly can he even say no to you?

But if you're like him, and stay up late - he won't condone that, duh

He'll force you to sleep with him, and he'll sleep just so you get your sleep

Moving on to the mornings - I imagine Shu to be very goddamn tired in the morning

Shu seems like the type of person who would softly snore in their sleep tbh

Every morning, you usually wake up with Shu snuggling onto you right by your side, both of you warm under the bedsheets

Since Shu usually stays up late, he would sleep in whenever he gets the chance to - but if you or him have something to do he is very very on time

You woke up, drowsy with Shu hugging your arm while he nestles his face onto your neck

He looks so peaceful just sleeping there, without any worries whatsoever

Once you try to get up, he'd slowly blink awake, drowsy and tired - HIS MORNING VOICE LOWKEY MAKES YOU FOLD

"(name)..?" his raspy voice would speak, holding your arm so you wouldn't move

"there's still time.. c'mere" he refuses to let you go and instead pulls your body closer to him, and spooning you - but it's not like you mind

The day would start with him cuddling and snuggling you until you force him to get up to eat

Your eyes flicker open as you drowsily look to your side, met with an extremely cute purple haired man snuggling against your side, sleeping happily.

You smile a bit, gazing in his features. How did you even get him? The sun from outside the window hits against his hair perfectly, giving him the perfect lightning - you were mesmerized.

Slowly, you turned your body to grab your phone, the time read 9:32. God you slept in late, you took a glance and Shu. He has been working hard, and he deserves his rest. So you try to peer your arm away from his grasp, but accidentally woke him up.

"mmghm..(name)..?" He said, drowsily, his voice low and raspy as his eyes starts to flicker open.

"ah - sorry Shu, keep sleeping, I'll make breakfast" You smiled and press a kiss against his forehead, making your way out of bed before Shu pulled your body close to his.

"there's still time, I wanna cuddle.." Shu whispered, his blush evident as he holds your body.

you blink a few times, then smiled softly before snuggling in with him.

"just for you.."

Now if Shu were to get up before you - that's a different story

Shu is very responsible, he never misses an alarm clock except for ONE singular time, he doesn't want to talk about it too much

He woke up before you, drowsily waking up and looked to you beside him.

He smiles, so hard, he smiles widely like a highschool girl giggling

He looks like those girls giggling over their crush

Shu feels so SO lucky that he got to meet you, he would trade anything in the world for you

Shu would then place a VERY quick kiss on your cheeks or forehead then run out of the room in embarrassment

Why is it that you always make him feel like this

Shu tiredly opens his eyes, as his alarm clock rang but he shut it off almost immediately so it won't wake you up. He looks to the side and there you are - sleeping peacefully right beside him, your body pressed against his.

He smiles, and quietly giggles to himself looking at you. He's so in love, and he won't get out - ever. He thinks of doing something a little risky.. he looks at you, then back at the door, then you again.

He lunges forward (but quietly) and places a kiss on your forehead, with a huge blush on his face, he dashes (but quietly duh) out of your shared bedroom.

If someone was there they'd see him kneeled down before the bedroom door and giggling to himself.

© 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms in any way, shape, or form without my permission. if found, you WILL be blocked.

❝𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢'𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧❞

A/N: thank you so much for requesting saku - sorry it's a lil late hehe

[cyberdragoninfinity]

Okay I know I was just here with III but I just got absolutely sledgehammered by the Arc-V ending (WTF) (Shun deserved better) so uh. Thoughts on Shun Kurosaki?

AHHAHAHAHA GOD. IM SO SORRY. IT'S. ROUGH. STAY STRONG MY FRIEND i would love to talk about shunshay kurosakiobsidian tho!

Why I like them/why I don’t: BIRD AUTISM IS SO COOOOOL I love that he's just so absurdly serious in a frequently deeply goofy yugioh, like GIVEN HIS SITUATION IT MAKES A LOT OF SENSE but it's still so funny. guy who takes it up to an 11 when most situations really need maybe only a 5. his dub voice rules also he's got the zane thing where he's either muttering angrily or SCREAMING and i always love that sort of vocal performance hehehe. also lbr raidraptors are just so fucking cool. just a guy and his 3892893435 bigger and bigger birds that are guns. i also need to be real shay is one of those yugioh characters where i decided they were a butch lesbian in my brain and my enjoyment of them just shot right through the roof. transfem shay youre so real to me. thumbs up

What I like about their appearance: AGAIN ARC V CHARACTER COLOR PALETTES JUST RULE SO HARD the different shades of teal in his hair, the pop of red in his bandana, that deep indigo of his trench coat...it's such a good palette he has a very striking design.

Do I prefer their dub names or original names? i incline towards shay more but shun has grown on me more over tim... im starting to do the ryozane thing where i just jam both names together sometimes lol.... i think i like obsidian as a surname more than kurosaki though

OTP: im an aro lesbian shayshun truther and i dont really have any ships for him im like frothing TOO too much at the mouth about...i do like the idea of crow/shay especially as a butch birder4butch birder thing though

NOTP: shay/dennis is like..... man i Like a good enemies to lovers but this one doesnt feel great to me. the optics on 'guy who lost everything in a horrific war crime' x 'guy who gave the ok for that war crime to happen' are kind of. not great. not my favorite. idk. also thats a dyke and a gay man to me but ANYWAY

OT3: this is absolutely not the romantic sense of 'ot3' but i do love the xyz trio so much. characters who deserve the goddamn world

Favourite card they use: i do love satellite cannon falcon. world's most absolutely unnecessary gigantic robot bird thats also a gun that has to literally leave the atmosphere to attack. insane. i love yugioh.

Favourite moment they were in: yeah on that note it's the shay/dennis friendship cup duel. he fucking blew that twink up with his giant space falcon and also the entire stadium too and he probably would have beat dennis to death with his bare hands if he didnt get stopped. and it KICKED ASS.

Least favourite moment: LITERALLY THOUGH LIKE. WHY DID THEY DO THAT TO SHUN IN THE LAST LIKE 4 EPISODES OF THE SERIES...... why did they make him just effectively lie down and take that absolute dogshit hand they dealt him for no fucking reason. his best friend and his sister are effectively dead. but la la la yuya beat him so it's fine :^) WHY COULDNT HE HAVE DUELED YUTO...HE WAS THERE.. IN YUYA'S BRAIN...WOULDVE BEEN NICE. 8| GOD.

Something I associate with them: this onion headline

[pochipop]

＃GENSHIN IMPACT !! ♡ — ON THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON (CHILDE X READER).

#. synopsis! — childe knows he doesn't deserve this, but he just can't let you go .

#. characters! — childe .

#. warnings! — angst .

#. word count! — 1k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — this is my "from the vault" era. most of the things i'll be posting for a while will probably have been started anywhere from a few months to over a year ago. i have a huge google doc just stocked with fics that i started and never finished, so i'm trying to wrap some of them up neatly enough to post them and at least let them see the light of day lol.

It’s always lonely at the top.

On nights like this, Childe realizes that now more than ever. Snezhnaya is his home, —but in a more abstract sense of the term. He knows the snow-covered lands and the bitter chill of frost like the backs of his scarred hands, and yet this nation feels less like the soft place he can fall upon each time he returns from somewhere else. It’s the center of his youth, the place that fills most of his heart, but things have certainly changed since he was little more than a young boy who loved making angels in the snow. The world moves faster now; days bleed into weeks in a matter of moments, and there are many times Childe wishes that the weather could freeze time like it does everything else around here.

Still, maybe it’s better that it doesn't. Even if it did somehow, he’s not sure how he’d spend that time anyway. A part of him is all too certain that he’d waste it away, losing sight of his goals within seconds.

He’s always been too driven by madness for his own good.

The viscous truth of it all is that Childe craves acceptance, but doesn’t really like to be loved. Even as you sleep next to him, his arm clutched in your warm, forgiving grip; he doesn’t know how to put such thoughts to the wayside. Selfishly, he wants you. Sometimes, it feels like he needs you. Realistically, though, Childe knows he shouldn’t have you. You’re not much of a fighter, and your only ties to the Fatui are through him, which he holds an insurmountable level of shame and regret for. If not for him, he’s certain your life would be a lot less complicated.

You’ve even said so yourself, albeit only jokingly. Those few little quips hold just enough water for Childe to drown himself in them, though. He wants to push you away as his lungs fill in and oxygen depletes, but you’re so goddamn intoxicating that he can’t bear the thought of parting ways. You snuggle closer to him as if seeking the heat of his body, —as if seeking the protection it offers from any ghoulish figures that could pop up in your otherwise sugar coated dreams.

Childe isn’t sure what he’d do without this, —without the ability to come staggering home to you. Truthfully, you’re more of a home to him now than Snezhnaya has ever been. He yearns for nights like this more than you’ll ever know, more than he’ll ever be able to articulate properly, because Celestia knows he’s never been very good with words.

Not when they’re genuine, anyway.

He can put on a show just fine, put that charismatic mask on and make strangers fall to their knees at his feet. But once they get a glimpse of the monster inside that lusts for violence and bloodshed on every battlefield, they run for the hills. And Childe isn't naive enough to wonder why. He knows, probably better than anyone else ever will, that he is hard to love, and even more difficult to be loved by.

When everything is going steady, he likes to send some ripples through the water just because he can. He pushes buttons he knows he should leave alone, —maybe because he can’t help himself, or maybe because deep down, he wants to push you away. You can’t just up and decide that you want to see him rot his way back into the earth beneath his feet if he flips all the right switches and makes it happen at will. There’s no disappointment to be had there if he’s the one who incites it; like flicking a match and watching your house go up in flames.

If he does it to himself, there’s no reason to be sad about it.

Self-sabotage has always been kind of his thing. Still, here you are with your soft tufts of breath fanning against him, trusting him not to let himself snap to the point of no return and burn everything down around you both (figuratively and literally.) And for the life of him, —Childe doesn’t get it. He really doesn’t. You’ve always wanted a simpler life, one you know he can’t give you. . . But here you are, and he doesn’t have the heart to push you away like he knows deep down that he should.

If he’s being honest with himself, and this is one of the rare times that he is, he knows he should be building his walls high enough to force you out if that’s what it takes. Everytime you lay with him like this, he knows he’s stealing that tranquil life you’ve always wanted away from you, and it eats him up inside. He’s not what’s best for anybody, nonetheless for you.

He knows, he knows, he knows. . . He really should just—

“Hey,” you say softly, and his resolve crumbles away like the walls he tries to build between himself and you. “Can’t sleep?”

Childe looks over at you and pauses for a few moments, admiring the way you love him, even when he doesn’t deserve it. Then he thinks to himself that he’s never truly deserved it, and the cycle begins again. He hums in acknowledgement, and you hold him closer, like you’re trying to mend all his broken pieces back together (even if you don’t know it.) It won’t help him sleep, but it feels nice to be cared for like this. To be loved, to be seen. . . To be stripped bare in the moonlight that spills in from your window is a blessing sent straight from Celestia, and it makes him wonder just what he’s ever done well enough to have ended up here in his lifetime.

“You’re thinking too much,” you say.

He almost laughs, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “I know.”

[sanicsmut]

Words of the Fallen

Technically Darien Gautier x Vestige!Reader, but all I can say is play Summerset's main quest in ESO before reading this.

part 2

Warnings : Use of Y/N once. Angst because it is. Spoilers for the end of Summerset. Language. The letter is taken directly from the game, which is why it’s written way better than what I’ve actually written.

Words: 1000 (I can't believe I got such a perfect count)

Robin’s comment: Cried making this, bon appétit. More seriously, this chapter (the game's DLC I mean) made me hate Meridia. She was one of my favorite daedric princes, but now it's over. All hail Azura. Anyway this is basically me telling Meridia what she deserves to hear. There's also a hint of a part two at the end ;). I'll try to write it, but I can't guarantee anything.

"Never trust a Daedric Prince. If there's anything I learned from all this, that's it in a nutshell. I used to think I had a purpose, a part to play in the grand scheme of things. I suppose I did, sort of, but the way things turned out, it wasn't at all the way I imagined. Meridia said I was her vessel. I guess my fate was sealed from the moment she brought me into existence.

Now, here I am, back in the Colored Rooms. I thought that when I gave my energy to restore the sword—and I did that for my friend, not for Meridia—I thought that was the end of me. I'm back, though, but this time is different. My light, it's fading. I can feel the darkness getting closer, pressing in. I expect that once the light goes out, that will be the end.

I need to tell you something about Meridia. She's a deceiver. She promised that if I served her faithfully, I'd earn my freedom. She never told me that freedom was just another word for the void. Don't trust her. Don't trust any of the Daedric Princes. Not ever.

I've found peace though. Meridia gave me a chance to see the world, and those I care about, one last time. To save those I loved. I'm grateful for that, at least.

I wish I had a chance to say goodbye to everyone. To Skordo. To Gabrielle. Gods, I'll miss them. But most of all, (Y/N). I don't know if she will understand how much she truly meant to me. Perhaps we'll see each other again, in another place, another time. I probably won't be the version of myself that's writing these words, though. That me will be gone. I can live with that.

I only wish I could have spent more time with everybody. Had a few more adventures. Ordered those drinks like we always talked about.

I hope my friends find peace, happiness, and love. They deserve what I could never have. If anyone ever finds this book, know that I will never forget those I named herein. And, if you find them, and I pray that you do, tell them this.

Protect the ones you love. Hold them close. Cherish their every moment. Make them laugh, and laugh with them. Smile together and never, ever, forget that the moments you have are so very precious.

Oh, and tell them not to forget me, either. I mean, I am a legend, as far as I know.

The polite, handsome, and humble knight,

Darien Gautier”

You let the book fall back on the bench where you found it.

No… No…

You were breathing heavily. And a few minutes later, surrounded by those trees, you let out your anguish.

Dawnbreaker gripped tight in your hand, you screamed.

“Take it back! Take your goddamn sword back!”

“It seems my vessel isn’t the only one who ended up having feelings when he shouldn’t.”

A bright light. There it was, this patronizing voice. This voice you had respected, after giving you back your soul and helping you in Coldharbour. This voice you grew to hate.

“You bitch, he was my friend!”

“Where is your respect, Vestige?”

Vestige. You hadn't been called that since that time you helped Abnur Tharn in Elsweyr. Only the companions called you that. The companions and Meridia. But even the Daedric Prince hasn’t called you that during this whole mission. It was like you were back in Coldharbour all over again. Back fighting for what you thought was right, back, fighting against and with forces you couldn’t comprehend.

“My respect for you died when Darien got condemned. By your fault.”

“He was my vessel, an empty shell, a weapon to do my bidding. He served his purpose.”

“He was my friend!” You yelled again.

“And a traitor.”

“How the f-”

“He sacrificed he life for you. He purified my sword, not to serve me, but to help you.”

“Oh, so this is it? You’re throwing a tantrum because your tool wasn’t devoted to you only?”

“Careful with your words, Vestige.”

“You owe me! I’m the one who fought Molag Bal, I’m the one who assembled all those allies to stop the coalition! I’m the one who just stopped Nocturnal! And you owe him too! He may have purified Dawnbreaker for me, but everything else he did was for you, to serve you, because he was your champion! Because he truly thought he could trust you!”

“And you owe me for your soul. And he owes me for the purpose I gave him.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to take my soul if I hadn’t fought in Coldharbour! It’s all thanks to me! And his purpose? He could’ve been a hero without disappearing for your fucking sake! Hell, he just wanted to help his friends!”

“Friends he shouldn’t have had in the first place.”

“I swear, I defeated Molag Bal and Nocturnal, I can defeat you too. Take back your fucking sword and give me back my friend.”

You could feel Meridia’s rising anger, the air feeling tense around you despite the Daedric prince not being here physically.

“You want your ‘friend’ back?” The prince of light asked, her voice filling you with a bad feeling.

“Yes!” You answered. “Free him from your realm!”

You swore you almost heard Meridia growling, even if that sounded out of character. But that being was strict and cold, full of authority, like a severe and cruel mother. But nothing about her was motherly. She might have been less ‘evil’ than other princes, but she still served her own interests, mortals were just tools for her, or obstacles she had to get rid of. And you were sure that she was now in the second category.

“You will have to free him yourself.” Meridia declared. “That is, if you can get out of my realm.”

Her voice was tainted in cruelty, and a blinding light burnt your eyes before everything went black.

[rhythmic-idealist]

Everytime I start to think "maybe BNHA wasn't *that bad*, maybe I could bring it back in and let it just coexist with whatever interests I have nowadays" I just look at your blog and get a snap back to reality🙏

(SORRY THIS IS LONG. Oh my god. My bad. Yw, though)

This is so interesting. I adore BNHA, and the post that people are tagging "BNHA critical" lately was.... intended not to be read as "BNHA uncritically believes this thing" but instead as "BNHA constructs a society that it specifically exposes for this bad thing."

I really will never agree with decisions made with the end of the manga. [I'm about to do manga spoilers. I figured this was okay since you aren't coming back, but you can stop here if you'd rather.]

Tenko should have lived. Himiko should have lived. Touya DESERVED to live, although I find myself less burned by his specific tragedy & it seems handled with the most appropriate context and care.

Like. I've analyzed it, and I'll continue to. I get the feeling even Horikoshi may be uneasy with it, although I'll never know for certain obviously and I always feel strange speculating about that stuff. But I don't think the ending was good.

BNHA started conversations in public spaces for me and gave me specific characters and concepts in ways that I will never begrudge it, and for that I find myself really just unbelievably lucky. Lucky in the ways I find myself able to continue to engage, in the fact that its ending has managed not to taint the rest of it. There still exists in my mind a very real "BNHA before the ending was written" as its own piece of art that existed for a period of time and that I'm not really done talking about. BNHA has made me want to write a novel with more of a strong pull to action than anything has for a long time.

But—while I love Tenko, and love Himiko—my favorite characters are Tenya and Hikage. Tenya's ending is imperfect, but oh my god, it's barely imperfect. Hikage's ending is imperfect for Tenko, but for HIMSELF? I have no notes. Missed opportunities, but no complaints, no notes. Oh my god Hikage fans are the luckiest people in this goddamn fandom.

And so my heart winds up insulated. I experience the letdown of the manga's end but I think that myself having other CENTERS to my BNHA experience probably has a lot to do with why it was able to deeply disappoint me without hurting me or changing itself so drastically, in the way that it has alienated so many other fans.

I really do love BNHA as a piece of art. I believe it is a good piece of art.

Growing up my favorite book was The Two Princesses of Bamarre, and I hated the final chapter with a burning passion. The feelings were significantly more intense than my BNHA ending feelings somehow, although being a tween/teen may have had something to do with that. It was still my favorite book.

I love.... so much about how BNHA opens conversations about transformative justice. I love that it's a story about how parents cannot be abandoned to protect their chid from the world alone if the child is under constant fire, and how sometimes the fire is coming from inside the house, and it is everyone's obligation to meddle even when social rules say otherwise. I have sat in Discord servers having long conversations with people who NEEDED to be asked If heroes "save people," was Jin a person?

BNHA falls short of writing an ending that imagines the world where we actually all become the hero who saves everyone, but the fact that it speaks to a fandom that is so often lagging so far behind that concept on even a basic level—that Izuku provides a conversation space for me to even tell people no he says his goal is to save everyone. Everyone. Everyone. His goal is to save everyone. "Does [x] deserve to live" I have a question. is that person one of Everyone? Then Yes, Deku Is About Saving That Person. Whether he achieves it or not, that's what the concept of Deku is for. It is for trying.

(There's a lot that I disagree with about how Izuku's ending was written too. To speculate, and I'm not the first to say this, much of the ending feels like it was.... following a plan that was made years and years ago, even when it didn't fit anymore.)

I think it was trying to do something with the idea that Tenko and Himiko were tragedies. It feels vaguely like it was trying to do something with their lack of privilege, and like it was trying to do something with characters who deserved to live but were so successfully isolated by mainstream society that their survival, unlike All Might's and Izuku's, wasn't "possible." (When the world prayed for All Might, when Ochako yelled at the civilians to buck up and take on some of Izuku's burden- Tenko and Himiko don't have that.) The strategy heroes use to kill the villains is called Divide And Conquer, and this series is about how no one can manage without Those Who Match Their Pace And Run Alongside Them. And how even with a few people like that... that's only a stopgap, and the broader context they exist in MUST change.

It imagines more than thousands of its more mainstream fanbase are willing to. I think it is something deeply important for that. I think that as a piece of political art (all art is political) it WILL ultimately matter that

But I feel that it forgot that some of its audience relates more to the Tenkos and Himikos to anyone else, and that it managed to deeply betray that audience after building so much hope.

Anyway. It's a work that wounds a lot of people for extremely legitimate reasons. Also there is sexism and some such etc in it. I'm quite glad that if you won't have fun here I manage to remind you to stay away, ahfjdisgin.

I am.... a little sore lately abt that post of mine circulating with the tag "BNHA critical"—not because of the tag itself, but because it shows me several people seriously believing a post I made about "look at this cool flaw BNHA points out in its own society" means "wow, fucked up that Horikoshi EARNESTLY BELIEVES this," and that the misread is so consistent it's likely a problem with my phrasing—and so whenever I post about it now I always want to make my OWN feelings very clear. I hope this does not feel that it was at all in argument with you?

I am VERY glad we enjoy our various different fandoms in our own different corners. And that my portrayal of BNHA is honest enough to remind you that you wouldn't have a good time getting in here with me!

.....The other option for why I'm receiving this ask is that you just...... REALLY don't like local hermit Hikage Shinomori. In which case. There are so many people in BNHA-historical-era Japan who have that in common with you ahjfdsingkd <333333

[danielfeketewrites]

DOCTOR WHO TOP 10 - 9th Doctor

Ninth Doctor. I love him, you probably love him too. He's great. Let's go.

10. The Cruel Sea

Rob Shearman's very weird comic strip. Admittedly, I love it to bits. While I think Shearman wasn't entirely sure about what he's doing, the result is still by far ninth Doctor's best DWM comic. (Okay, I also really like Scott Gray's Monstrous Beauty, it just didn't make the list.)

9. The Beast of Babylon

I love xenofiction and Doctor Who should do it more often.

8. The Sin-Eaters

Ninth Doctor's Titan comic book run by Cavan Scott is on the whole pretty solid. (And preferable to ninth Doctor's 2005 DWM run, which just has too much Gareth Roberts to be any good.) I can definitely recommend the whole thing. Not everything in there is amazing, but there's a lot to like about it.

This story is my personal highlight of the run. Twisted, clever, and fun. The Sin-Eaters just slaps.

7. The End of the World

The moment Tainted Love starts playing, you know you're in for something amazing.

I just love this episode... It's the first episode of New Who that really gets to show off the scope of "the alien" in this universe. I adore the creativity of it, the energy of it. And Lady Cassandra O'Brien.Δ17, of course. So many iconic moments in this one.

6. Bad Wolf / Parting of the Ways

The big finale, of course. Huge, emotional, epic... but also featuring some biting satire about the landscape of television. The perfect finale to the first series.

5. The Stealers of Dreams

My favourite ninth Doctor book. It's kinda Cartmelian in it's premise, but also deals with the new reality for the eu - Doctor Who being back on TV. This is a stunning Who novel and it should get a lot more attention than it does. Steve Lyons is awesome.

4. Monsters in Metropolis

Historicals about film history are great and there should be more of them. Also, this one made me cry, so there's that. I love Monsters in Metropolis so goddamn much, thank you John Dorney.

3. Planet of the End

After listening to the first series of Big Finish's The Ninth Doctor Adventures, one gets a pretty clear sense that Respond to All Calls is the strongest of the four boxsets, by a pretty wide margin.

My favourite of that boxset has to be Planet of the End by Timothy X Atack. There's just something about the size of the ideas in this one... Fred is an amazing character, the Incorporation are truly villainous... Just thinking about this one makes me want to listen to it again.

2. Dalek

Rob Shearman resurrects Daleks. Well... just one, to be precise. But it's all he needs to craft one of the greatest Dalek stories every. Every line is gold, the story is poignant and meaningful, the characters are memorable... And it's a Base Under Siege story where the monster is trying to get out instead of getting in. What more do you want?

1. The Empty Child / The Doctor Dances

What else could it be? Steven Moffat's Hilarious & Horny Horror For Children, also known as The Empty Child two-parter, has become such an iconic and defining bit of Doctor Who. I feel like everyone loves it and for good reasons. It's absolutely deserving of all the hype and acclaim. And... You know... Everybody lives!

[positivelybeastly]

Just a question regarding the whole fall of x depiction of the x-men. Do you think they deserved to fall? If so, then why?

In my opinion (and sorry for the rambling) I believe most deserved it but definitely not everyone. *cough cough* Quiet Council *cough cough*. But going beyond their…mess, teams like X-Force and Legionnaires I felt don’t deserve it completely. While yes the actions of beast prime did make their reputation that much dirtier it could’ve been avoided if there was therapy for mutants. All his and many others “evil” actions could be been avoided if everyone wasn’t like light years apart from each other despite being in the same area at the same time. Even then there just byproducts of a crappy system of lies and neglect from the stupid quiet council that only makes things worse some how. But that’s my thoughts…maybe you could change them.

Question for Hank in general. What are five words you would use to describe love in your life? It could be: friend ships, romantic relationships, or even (and probably considered a little confusing to others) your relationship to your work.

"Five words to describe love? Quite a task, considering what Ewan McGregor had to say on the subject."

"Oh, no. NO, NO, NO - !"

"All you need is love!"

"Love is just a game!"

"I was made for loving you, baby, you were made for loving me!"

"The only way of loving me, baby, is to pay a lovely fee~"

"Just one night, give me just one night~!"

"There's no way, 'cause you can't pay~"

"Oh, there he is! In the naaaaaame of love, one ni-ght in the name of love~!"

"You crazy fool, I won't give in to you~!"

"Don't - leave me this way, I can't survive without your sweet love, oh baby, don't leave me this way~"

There's a sound - Dark Beast is violently banging his head against the wall.

"Please. God. Please. Make. It. Stop."

"All right, fine, fine, we'll take it easy on you . . . five words to describe love in our life . . . nourishing."

"Regular! Skilful, too."

"Anchor."

"Betrayal."

"Oh, well, thanks for lowering the tone there, guy . . ."

So, I think a distinction does have to be drawn between X-Men and mutants, because the X-Men are a superhero team with various spin off groups, and the mutants are a race/community. For the most part, no, I don't think the mutants deserved to fall, and I don't think most of the teams or groups did, either.

Joe Public on Krakoa was just living their lives after said lives were rudely interrupted (if they were resurrected victims of the various massacres) or they were set to be persecuted by a world that hated and feared them. They didn't do shit to deserve being dive bombed by Nimrod or hunted down by Orchis fuckwads, they're just people living on an island utopia and trying to have a good time.

The Quiet Council, however, was a completely fucked system of government and everyone realised it way too late, so pretty much everyone involved in that institution deserves a smack upside the head and a long time away from any leadership position.

Yes, that does include Kate, Emma, Jean, Kurt and Ororo. They were all complicit in, at the very least, allowing X-Force's actions to go unmoderated, to say nothing of every other fucked up decision they signed off on.

I don't give a fuck if they stood in the Quiet Council chambers and said, oh, I miss when Hank was fun, why's he so unethical now - YOU'RE MEANT TO BE HIS FUCKING FRIENDS, CUNTS, ACT LIKE IT. Or at the very least, act like the fucking superheroes you're goddamn meant to be! Talk means nothing if it's not followed by action!

They didn't address the rot. Everyone in major leadership positions on Krakoa, yes, everyone, has to carry some of the blame for what happened to Krakoa. No, it wasn't just Beast, or Mr. Sinister, or Moira, all of them carry some responsibility for fumbling the bag and not addressing fundamental inequalities on their little happy island nation.

But 90% of the X-Men teams, who didn't have that knowledge, didn't have that power, who can't be held accountable for that stuff? Yeah, they didn't deserve what happened. Jubilee did not deserve to be crushed by Nimrod, no matter how you cut it, she simply did not. Same with every other member of that X-Men team, just to name one example.

X-Force, though . . . so, take all of this with a grain of salt, because this was quite possibly the worst written book of the era, and I know no-one was in character, BUT.

In-universe, with what is, unfortunately, canon?

Yeah, fuck those guys. All it takes for evil to flourish is that good men do nothing, and while no-one on that team can call themselves a good person, good god did they insist on doing a lot of nothing.

"Hmm, our leader was running a space Nazi prison, what should we do? Silent treatment. Brilliant."

Kill Quire a few extra times just for that. And for that shitty Ghost Calendars arc, while we're at it. Colossus, you're on my shit list for breaking Chronicler control and not telling anyone what was going on until the last second. Sage, you're an idiot, you and Logan both had the power to stop shit long before it got to the point it did. Domino, you . . . actually, Domino, Black Tom and Omega Red might get a pass here? I can't really blame them for what happened.

. . . Anyway! Mutants don't deserve genocide or the loss of the little scrap of the world they carved out for themselves. The Quiet Council and the leadership of X-Force, however, deserved everything they got, and quite possibly a hell of a lot more. That's the long and short of it.