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ninus9607 · 3 months ago

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❝𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬❞

NSFW Alphabet - Agatha Harkness

Pairing(s): Agatha Harkness x Female! Vampire reader

Word count: 2,3K

Warning: little bit of smut - minors DNI

tags: l content: NSFW Alphabet, Smut Alphabet, Dominant Agatha Harkness, Top Agatha, Vampire Reader, Possessive Partner, Obsessive Love, Magical Strap-On, Dark Romance, Breeding Kink (Magical), Breath Play, Blood Play, Period Play, Exhibitionism, Dirty Talk, Marking/Biting, Jealous Dom, Obsessive Behavior

AN: GUYS I SWEAR I AM NOT SICK THIS IS JUST HOT AS FUCK

A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

Agatha may be ruthless in bed, but after she's completely wrecked you, she shifts into a different kind of dominant protective, and doting. She takes pride in taking care of what's hers, running her fingers over your marked-up skin, admiring the evidence of her possession.

She'll clean you up, whispering smug praises about how well you took her, while her magic lazily trails over your body, soothing any soreness though don't think she'll let you off easy next time. Wrapped up in her arms, she'll keep you close, covered in her scent, ensuring you don't forget who you belong to.

"My love, you are so beautiful, the love of my life"

"You're mine, only I can make you feel this good right?"

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

Agatha's favorite part of herself? Her eyes. They hold an intensity that sees right through you, leaving you bare in ways that have nothing to do with magic. With a single look, she can make you squirm, submit, or beg depending on her mood.

As for you? She's obsessed with yourneck.It's the perfect place to leave bruises, bites, and her claim. She loves wrapping her fingers around your throat, feeling your pulse race beneath her palm, knowing she's the reason for it. If you try to cover the marks? Oh, she'll just have to make more.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Agatha is obsessed with making a mess out of you. She loves seeing you ruined, dripping for her, completely spent and she takes her time admiring her work. If she's using her enchanted strap, she makes sure you take every drop of her magic-fueled release, watching with satisfaction as it leaks out of you. The sight alone is enough to drive her wild, and if she's feeling particularly possessive (which she always is), she'll push it back inside, whispering,

"Oh no, darling, we're not wasting a single drop."

And if you ever try to clean yourself up too quickly? Big mistake. She'll just have to ruin you all over again.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Agatha may own you, body and soul, but deep down, she craves something even deeper. Something that ties you to her forever. She's studied forbidden spells, and ancient magic lost to time, all in secret, searching for a way to do the impossible to make you pregnant with her child.

The idea of you carrying something undeniably hers, a piece of both of you intertwined most permanently sends a dangerous thrill through her. And when she comes inside of you with her enchanted strap, whispering possessive promises against your skin, she's already imagining it, imagining you swollen with her child, completely bound to her.

And the scariest part? It's only a matter of time before she makes it happen.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

Agatha may be centuries old like you, but when it comes to true intimacy, you were her first real taste of it. The two of you learned together, exploring pleasure, power, and possession in ways neither of you had ever imagined before.

F = Favourite Position

Agatha is not patient when it comes to you when she wants you, she takes you. And nothing gets her going more than having you pressed against a wall, completely at her mercy. She loves the way your body aches for her, the way your breath catches when her hands roam over your skin, her lips teasing your neck before she claims you properly.

But if she's feeling particularly possessive? The kitchen table is her second favorite spot. There's something so primal about bending you over the very place you both share meals, making sure you remember who you belong to every time you sit there.

"I could have you at my mercy all night, and you'd still crave more of me."

"I'll make sure you never forget who you belong to, my love."

(Let's pretend it is Agatha)

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

She'll tease, joke, and push your buttons with that mischievous grin of hers. Whether it's a witty remark or a sarcastic comment, she knows just how to make you laugh, even when she's driving you wild with desire.

In the middle of a passionate moment, you can't help but find her humor irresistible. She'll smirk while kissing you deeply, whispering something unexpectedly funny that has you laughing even as you're gasping for breath.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Agatha keeps herself clean and well-groomed, it's just one of her little habits that keep her feeling in control.

As for you, though? She doesn't really care about how you keep yourself-she loves you as you are. Whether you're perfectly groomed or not.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

Agatha's intimacy is a blend of deep passion and raw desire it's not always about slow, soft touches or candlelit moments. She loves sex with you just as much as she loves you, and that means sometimes, it's intense, powerful, and a little rough. There's a balance between the romantic and the primal, and she fully embraces both sides of her desires.

For Agatha, intimacy isn't just about making love it's about possession, trust, and her way of making you feel irresistibly desired in ways you've never experienced before. So, while not every moment is wrapped up in red roses or sweet whispers, it's always deeply personal and full of her affection, even when she's pulling you closer for another heated kiss.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink -Agatha has a breeding kink that she can't ignore. The thought of marking you as hers, of making sure you carry a piece of her, drives her wild. While she knows your vampire nature means pregnancy isn't possible, that doesn't stop the fantasy from turning her on.

Choking/ Breath Play -Agatha's darker side comes out in her love for breath play. She's incredibly careful, of course, but she loves the feeling of you gasping for air beneath her touch. A gentle but firm hand around your throat as she lifts you up

Exhibitionism kink -whether it's kissing you in public, pulling you into an alleyway, or letting you both tease each other in a semi-public setting. She enjoys the risk of it all, knowing that at any moment, someone could walk by and see what's happening.

Dirty Talk - Agatha is a master of dirty talk she knows exactly how to bring you to the edge with just her words. She loves to tell you exactly what she's going to do to you, how she's going to make you feel, and how she's going to use you for her pleasure. "You're going to beg for me when I'm done.", or "You don't deserve to come until I say so."

Blood play - For Agatha, the idea of period play is thrilling in a way that's both intimate and powerful... During this time, Agatha is even more possessive of the reader, knowing that the reader's vampire nature will allow them to feed off her in ways that others wouldn't-or couldn't understand.

When the reader is craving her blood, especially in these intimate moments, Agatha delights in the subtle dominance it brings. She enjoys how the vampire's thirst for her blood only fuels the passion between them. The reader may take a bite from her, or lick her blood during their intimate sessions, adding a level of raw intensity to their connection.

L = Location (Favourite places to do they do)

EVERYWHERE

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

EVERYTHING! (she wants you every hour, minute , and second)

N = NO (Something they wouldn't do, turn-offs)

Agatha's biggest turn-off is anything that involves sharing. She is intensely possessive, and the very idea of sharing you with anyone else whether it's another lover or even something as simple as attention triggers a deep sense of jealousy and anger in her. To her, you're hers, and she can't fathom the thought of anyone else touching what belongs to her.

O = Oral (Preference for giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Agatha is more than fond of receiving oral, and it's one of her absolute favorite ways to be pleasured. She loves the feeling of being utterly at your mercy, especially when you take your time with her.

Agatha particularly enjoys it when you wake her up in the morning when she's still half-dreaming, her magic strap still magically attached from your last night's activities, and ready to fulfill her desires. There's something about the way she's caught between sleep and arousal that makes it all the more intense. When you wake her up with a good blowjob, she's left breathless and satisfied, her moans a perfect mix of pleasure and surprise.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc)

Agatha enjoys a balanced mix of both, but when it comes to pace, she often leans toward slow and sensual, That being said, Agatha definitely knows how to turn up the heat when she wants to, switching to something faster and rougher when the moment demands it. If she's feeling dominant or frustrated, she won't hesitate to make it a hard and intense experience, taking full control.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Like I said, she doesn't mind but not really prefer it...

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc?)

Agatha is 100% game for taking risks, especially when it comes to pleasure and experimentation. Her curiosity and desire to explore are limitless, gatha finds the thrill of risks intoxicating, especially when she knows she can still maintain that control over you, even in the most unpredictable situations. She has no hesitation when it comes to introducing new positions, or situation-based thrills.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last...)

Agatha's stamina is practically legendary, especially when she's deeply connected to you. As a witch with immense power, she has a kind of endurance that extends into the bedroom, fueled by both her desire and the energy she draws from magic. She can go for multiple rounds, especially when she's in her element-whether it's through her deep lust for you or the fact that she loves testing her limits.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Agatha isn't a fan of toys. She feels that they are unnecessary when she can bring you the kind of pleasure she wants through her own hands, magic, and skill. If she ever does consider using one, it would be purely because it adds to the experience or makes you feel more pleasure, but it's not something she'd turn to often.

She feels that with her ability to be completely in tune with you and your needs, she doesn't need the help of external objects to get you both where you need to go.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

1000000000%

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Her voice often takes on an almost seductive tone, one that's both commanding and pleasure-filled, making every sound she makes feel like it's meant to drive you crazy. She's also known to whisper filthy things in your ear, getting you worked up with her soft breathy noises.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Agatha has always found your vampire fangs to be both fascinating and intoxicating. At first, she was curious, even a little apprehensive about how dangerous they might be, but as she got to know you, she realized how deeply erotic and intimate they were. There's something about the way you lick them when you're feeling playful or how they graze her skin that makes her heart race in a way no spell ever could.

X = X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants, picture or words)

Agatha knows she has power, beauty, and everything she needs to captivate you, but there are still moments when she's plagued by the fear that you'll find someone better, someone who can love you more. In those rare moments, she'll look at you with a vulnerability only you see, and all you have to do is hold her, whispering that she's the one for you, and you'll love her for life, no matter what.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Agatha's sex drive is intense. Her yearning isn't just about the physical; it's about possession, about marking you as hers in every way possible. She thrives on the feeling of your bodies intertwined, the heady mix of passion and dominance, and the rush of knowing that you're just as addicted to her as she is to you.

"I can feel the hunger in me every time you're near, my love... Don't think for a second I won't take what I need from you."

"The way you look at me... I can't stop myself from wanting more. I crave you, all of you, every single second."

Z = ZZZ (... how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Agatha isn't the type to fall asleep easily, especially after intense moments with you. Her mind is always racing, plotting her next move, and savoring the feeling of having you all to herself. She might stay awake for hours, quietly watching you, tracing over every inch of your body, and thinking about how she'll keep you close, how much of you she has claimed. Her desire for you doesn't stop when the act is over; it keeps going.

#fanfic #wlw #marvel #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha all along

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keepers-universe-archive · 11 months ago

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He'll get over it eventually xD Give him a Pecha berry and he'll probs get over it in 10 seconds flat then ask for more food.

While I'm working on update, have some shitposts featuring my women trying @the-sleepysiren's Pokémon-themed food.

First is Sewaddle Mochi (Warning; if you're in different universe, DON'T eat it in front of someone from Sewaddle line)

Second is Torkoal Spicy Bread (there's a sweet version of it, but Noelle forgot to buy one for Silas)

[ Silas belongs to @book-of-legends, Leavanny is random just for a shitpost ]

#Sorted: Silas Rune #personal favs #// Saved Tags //#Reblogging here bc yeah #It's the weekend some I have time off #I just really wanted to add this #xD I love it so much #For those who see this - this blogs still for archive only D: probs the only time Ill add art of like this #So no point in paying attention to this blog if anyone really wants my attention/art replies feel free to poke my main art blog ✨ >:P #FUCK SPELLING MISTAKES

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the-actual-ocean · 8 months ago

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Hello! Ever wonder who does the ocean? That's us! While, technically, we aren't in direct contact with the people who are actually in charge of the ocean, we have assumed the role of keeping it interesting!

Blog, ask, and mod info below the cut!

We are not accepting applications for new mods. This is a personal group blog, and we feel more comfortable with people who have physically thrown one another into blood pits before. sorry.

// We are all minors! Thought I'd add this before the read more.

Feel free to send us asks about what to throw/edit into the ocean! You can simply send us an image or name in the ask box with signatures to specify what format you want the post to be in! they're right below this! and next to those signatures? examples!! of the posts!!

-[Chuck] "An image of a rock, please -[Chuck]." This will have the provided image or description being hastily edited to appear as though they are being thrown into the ocean, or perhaps off a dock!

-[Swim] "adam sandler -[Swim]." This will have the provided image or description being edited into the ocean, and maybe even included a school of said image or description. maybe.

look at him. so majestic in his natural habitat.

-[Amalgamation] "Dany Devito bigfin squid -[Amalgamation]" This will have the chosen subject be horribly amalgamated onto a sea creature or oceanic feature! they will be in extreme pain!

And, uh, just to let you know: there's like a 40% that any news networks suggested in the asks will instead be fed to sea slugs. Sorry.

Mod Info:

Hello! I'm the creator of the blog, and you can refer to me as Juno. You can discern my posts from the other mods through my boring, regular writing, and I'll probably be the only one not to swear. I go by he/him, and I will always take the chance to brag about how I got to make that one part of space, or how I have the most squids to my name. I'll also be able to be recognised with my tag, being #{J}.

hello i am the purple one. i called dibs on purple whilst we were coming up with the idea of this blog, so you will be able to recognise me by my colour and tag: #〔L〕. my name is Liv (i am the only one here who has not changed their name because i couldnt find anything that suited me) and i go by she/her, and ill probably mention penguins a lot. i know they dont live in the ocean, but they come here often so theyre like a family friend. i also like manatees, so they might get a few mentions from me, idk yet. im also probably recognisable through my lack of punctuation apart from commas and full stops, so do whatever you want with that information. i also actually spawned in the ocean, so despite my lack of qualification, im allowed to be here as its sort of a form of compensation for the mistake. heres what i look like!!! (i also have 1 more picrew but we have another post dedicated to them so if you wanna go see just go there!)

Hello. I'm salt, which for legal reasons is not my name but I'm not expanding on that. I'm not sure what happened. I got here by . I go by they/them. It'll probably b quite easy to distinguish me from the others as I use punctuation incorrectly or not at all nd shorten word that don't typically need to be shortened. Another way will probably be my dramatic response to references I understand. When I post, I'll use red and my tag will be #S♣. I also really like sharks. I love sharks. I'm not responsible for them, but I will take credit for them.

HELLO! I am snail. I'm identifiable from my green colour and tag, which is #[Sn]. I go by she/her, and I will probably make spelling mistakes. I also may seem stupid or imbecilic. (See? Big words. Salt can't insult autocorrect.) :D I'm a bit slow and don't wear my glasses at home, so I'll have to take my time reading things and typing with the correct spellings. I'll probably just mention whales and pufferfish, since they're so super awesome. I just swagger walked into the ocean and I'm here now!!

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midnight-mourning · 6 months ago

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DECEMBER IS OVER!!! New Year, What's Next?

Well chat, with literally three minutes to spare we finished out DCA December IN December, and then of course you got a little bonus thingy as well hehe :)

So! Having said that, wanted to take a moment to talk about some plans, what to expect to see from me next, and so on

BUT FIRST, I would like to take the time to thank everyone who sent in requests for this little event, I appreciated every single one of them, and had SO much fun writing, I hope everyone enjoyed the little stories I wrote, couldn't have done it without everyone sending in such creative & unique ideas, thank all of you so much!

@monsteractiasluna @juukai @deviouscrackers @zenkaiankoku @buzzybee3 @fishm0ther @divinit3a @zoranight16 @cosmic-quakes @soupdweller @lizyxml @pip-plz @theinfamousmaybelle @lizyxml (again <3) @rosescarletful @crystalmagpie447 @buzzybee3 (again <3) @kaprisvn @vypridae @twomanypockets @zenkaiankoku (again <3) @juukai (again <3) @rosescarletful (again <3) @rosescarletful (again <3 <3 thank u tempest you helped feed the people fr) @twomanypockets (again <3) @pip-plz (again <3) @divinit3a (again <3) @baby-bloos @alynwrench @baby-bloos (again <3) @ccccaptain-clownyyy @luckyyyduckyyy

Additionally, thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, or commented on these fics, it's so very appreciated (I would tag everyone but there are, a startingly large amount of you 😅) I will come clean and admit that I am always a little nervous when I upload my writing, so knowing that people enjoy my work when I share it is, humbling, to say the least <3

Okay! Now to get into it, below the cut just so people dont have to scorll through my rambling plans & such (there is a POLL however that even if you skip my nonsense you should vote in pretty please ^-^)

So, despite some shortcomings with me getting a bit behind (curse you sinus infection & finals week) I'm really happy with how this went!

I'll be taking a break for a bit and def will NOT be posting as much as I did near the end there, BUT I'll still be writing per usual, especially since I have two weeks left to my break. Before I get into what you can expect to see, wanted to do a quick interest check on whether people would like me to do something similar for Valentine's!

Since I'll be back at college again I won't be able to do a full month again, buuuut, I should be able to handle 14 days worth, if the interest is there I would open up requests probably the last week of January so I had time to get started/ahead. So,

Rules would be the same as for DCA December, except with a Valentine's Theme!

Now that that's taken care of, here's what'll be going on with me as we start 2025!

I'm working on Holiday Spirit ch. 2, should be posting either today or tomorrow! Still aiming to get it done before I go back to school so expect quicker updates now that requests are finished :) (you can find out more about this story here)

Confused Spirit ch. 36 is also in the works! I'll be honest in that my sinus infection JUST cleared up a week or so ago, and additionally i've been facing a bit of writer's block with the story just bc of where we're at and I want to make sure it's really good/properly expresses what I'm going for with this fic, but I'm working on getting more out to you all soon, as well as working on getting ahead again while I have time, thank you all for your paitence with this one, it's very appreciated <3 (if you don't know about Confused Spirit, you can find out more here, it's my current main dca project :D)

DCA December will be reviewed for spelling and grammar mistakes and be uploaded to ao3 throughout January, if you'd like to read anything again (or you're wanting to get caught up and have a better reading experience) you can see the masterpost here, which will have the ao3 link once I get started on editing

Getting into non-fic things, I'll also be working on organizing my blog so things are easier to find as I know it's a bit messy currently >_< bear with me as it gets fixed up

I really want to improve on my art! After collecting things up for my 2024 art summary, i realized I've improved a lot but still have more room to grow (and many ideas that I want to see made by a more skilled hand >~<) so, expect to see some art things from me floating around including but not limited to: my trick or treat responses (im sorry these are so late, it's brutal out here), Cast of CS refs, more Holiday Spirit doodles, magma things, CS chapter promos, & new refs for the CS boys! there's some more things i have planned but I am keeping them a secret for now ;)

Okay! Think that's everything, thanks again to everyone for making this a whole lot of fun, and can't wait to share more with you all in 2025! Happy New Year!

#dca fandom #fnaf dca #dca fic #x reader #confused spirit #holiday spirit au #mm dca december #genuinely enjoyed this so much #and also have met so many cool people because of it!#so excited to share more soon #the CS/HS content coming y'alls way is #fun #i'll say that :)

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0littleladybug0 · 1 year ago

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haihai :3 could u please do mayhaps a cg!steve harrington x little reader an mayhaps they the little is a bit cranky >:O and maybe just wants extra cuddles and extra baby time w cg stevieeeeeeeeeeee :D I love ur acc btw

YES I CANNN!!!

this request is the cutest thing ever i love it so much (coming from a girl that gets supper cranky when im regressed 🤭

Cg!Steve Harrington x little!reader

Summary: someones getting cranky and Stevie knows just how to help

Tags/warnings: Age regression, gender neutral reader, tooth rotting fluff from our favorite cg, spelling mistakes if you squint your eyes (theres always gonna be at least one i miss), reader being the most teeniest tinyest baby ever, reader being insecure but dw Steve is to the rescue!, no use of Y/N, ive never written for Steve before so let me know how i did!!

DNI IF NSFW

It wasn't an exaggeration that you were completely and utterly exhausted. Between classwork and picking up as many shifts as you could with your part time job, you were stacked with responsibilities and were constantly busy. Its not like you were doing it all alone though, you and Steve have both been working insanely hard. You both needed and deserved a nice break from the real world.

Your little space was just that, it was perfect for the both of you! You loved being taken care of and Steve loved having somebody to take care of, and he especially loved taking care of his sweet sweet baby.

The only issue however, was that you always had a problem verbalizing what it was you wanted. You knew that Steve loved being your caregiver and didn't mind your regression at all, intact he praised it any chance he could and was beyond supportive of everything, but you just couldn't shake the insecurities away sometimes no matter how hard you tried to.

You had spent all week without slipping into your little space, something that Steve noticed very quickly since you rarely ever go that long without regressing, even if its just for a hour or two. You wanted nothing more then to slip and be babied by your cg, but the insecurities in your head were too strong, and that made you want to slip even more.

Good thing for Steve though, he had an indescribable gift of reading you just like a book. He knew everything and anything about your regression, and he knew that the longer you stayed big, the smaller and smaller you would regress.

So when you came back home from an exhausting shift after your classes, he knew what you were doing.

You kicked off your shoes and flopped onto the couch with a small whine escaping your lips. You were so tired you didn't even see him walking over to the couch, taking a seat right by your feet, rubbing circles on your back.

"Hi baby." he cooed, "lets change you into some jamies and get you some food, how does that sound?"

The idea of being all cozied up in your favorite pjs sounded like a dream, but the thought of having to get up and actually change, you simply just didn't have the energy for that.

you wanted Steve to pick you up and carry you on his hip, change you into your jammies and give you a nice warm bottle of milk.

And Steve always knew what you wanted. Which made you want to stay big even more, but you were beginning to slip and you couldn't help it.

"No, not tiny." you pout, trying to prove your point.

"You mean this itty bitty baby right here, this little one isn't tiny hm?" he asked, tickling you slightly at your sides. "Seems pretty tiny to me."

You giggle and squirm, immediately making you slip completely into your little space.

"Cmere sweetheart, lets get you changed, your to tiny to wear your big clothes, i cant imagine thats comfy."

"Wanna be in my jammies." you nodded in agreement.

Steve got up from the couch, a confused look lacing his face when he turned to see you staring up at him with big doe eyes.

"You want me to carry you, dont you?" Steve asked, already knowing the answer to it.

"Yes please." you said shyly hiding your face.

He chuckles to himself as he put his arms under yours and hosting you up on his hip. "Good job with your manners hun, where did i get such a polite little one?"

God he loved to see you blush and hide in the crook of his neck.

After getting you into some comfy clothes and a snack in your stomach, he knew that you didnt even need a bottle to knock you out for the night. Would you still be asking for one, oh absolutely.

You began to kick your legs when he hovered you over the couch in an attempt to you you down.

"No dada! No couch!" You shook your head vigorously.

"Baby, I gotta put you down somewhere, dont you want something to eat?" Steve asked.

You let out a whine and buried your head back into the crook of Steves neck. All you wanted was to cuddle with your caregiver, you didn't want to think about what you wanted to eat, let alone have the energy to actually do it.

"Just wanna stay with you." you mumbled, your voice soft and muffled from Steves shoulder.

"Ok How about this," Steve began, holding your cheek with his free hand so that you could look at him. "What if i made you some nice *comfort food of choice* and then a bottle after, huh? How does that sound?" Steve suggested, he could tell you were tired and fussy and all down right exhausted. he couldn't imagine all the big feelings you were having right now in your little mindset.

He waiting until you slowly nodded in agreement before walking over to the kitchen, with you still on his hip of course. After the food and the bottle was done, he walked you over to the couch and placed you on his lap. He pulled a throw blanket over your back and made sure your stuffie was close to your side and put on cartoons on the TV. You didnt have to ask him what you wanted, he already knew how to treat his tiny tiny baby.

he blew on your food to make sure it wasnt too hot before holding it out to you on your baby spoon, encouraging you to eat it.

He knew that in such a little headspace the last thing you had was energy to feed yourself. He never minded helping out his baby.

"Its yummy isnt it?" He asked in between bites, never rushing you and letting you take your time with the dish.

You would nod along, clinging to Steves side feeling your hangry crankiness slowly go away.

You giggled when he licked his finger and whipped your checks clean. Your laugher to Steve was like an angle choir, he would do anything to hear that little laugh.

After you were done with your food, Steve had so hesitation feeding you your bottle next. You could feel your insecurities rise again at the though of Steve having to take care of you so much, making you cranky again.

You tried to grab the bottle from Steves hand before he tapped it away.

"Its ok baby, let dada give it to you." he reassured.

That one piece of reassurance was enough to get you back into your baby headspace as you nuzzled your head further into Steves chest with a smile.

Your bottle was quickly finished as Steve reassured you with sweet nothings throughout it. He grabbed your paci and held it out waiting for you to take it. You had no hesitation letting him place it in your mouth. He brought both arms around you now, bringing you into a big bear hug. He layed down on the couch with you on top and ran his hand through your hair.

"Sorry i was cranky today." You mumbled through your paci.

Steve looked down at you at your saddened state. He hated when you apologized for feeling your emotions.

"Hey baby, look at me." He said, bringing a hand to your cheek, brushing it slowly with his finger. "You never have to apologize for the way you feel. Its ok that your not happy and playful everyday. Every baby has their cranky days. And i will always be there to take care of you no mater if your happy or sad or cranky or tired. Im going to be there for you no matter what. Im always gonna be here for my little baby." He kissed the top of your head and tighten his grasp around you.

You nuzzled back into his chest with a soft smile on your lips.

You felt loved. You were loved. Everything was ok.

You both fell asleep holding each other on the couch, you woke up feeling cured of last nights big emotions with the help of your cg and your littlespace. And even if you woke up and you were still little, you didnt worry about being too much for Steve. You knew he would grab you a juice box, set you on the kitchen counter and make you breakfast as you watched.

You truly couldn't ask for a better dada.

But yet again, he couldn't ask for a better little one either.

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

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 2 days ago

Text

The Meet-Cute - Kid's Story - 17

Source for pic

Imperfect 17

Word Count: 6321

Tags and Summary can be found here.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Notes: Aaaaand we have another 6k+ words again, hope you don't mind! Buckle up, everyone, we're about to hear Kid talk about some REAL stuff. Hope you enjoy this one! Thank you for reading, love you all.

Additional Note: Slight graphic descriptions of gore.

Here's a Spotify Playlist I created for this story if you want to check it out!

Masterlist

Killer’s not quite sure what he should expect as he opens the garage door. He left Kid alone for the night, the first one since he started his recovery path. He assured him he would leave his phone unsilenced, and if Kid got any urge to drink or fight, he should call him immediately.

He didn’t call.

Which doesn’t mean he didn’t relapse.

But as soon as he steps foot inside the familiar place, he’s greeted by the rapid chatter of an impact wrench. Kid’s kneeling, sweat dampening his temples, his white tank top already smeared with oil. He’s using the wrench to unscrew the lug nuts of a blue truck Killer recognizes as belonging to Monkey D. Garp.

They reopened the garage yesterday after a few days of hiatus, and business is back to usual. His friend looks grumpy - as usual - but focused. The garage doesn’t smell like stale liquor, and there are no bottles anywhere. The usual old-school rock is playing in the background, where there used to be nothing but silence.

“Hey, man.”

“Mornin’,” Kid drawls with a grunt when a lug nut falls to the floor. When he picks it up, his hand trembles, and he opens and closes his fist quickly to get it to stop before picking up the nut with a heavy breath. “Fuckin’ piece of shit nut…”

Killer’s eyes zero in on the dried blood on Kid’s knuckles, but there is no evidence of more bruises on his face, as is usual when he visits the Pit. So Killer eyes the punching bag, trying to see if Kid has used it or not.

Just as he registers a few splatters of blood on the black leather, Kid speaks up.

“I behaved,” he jokes with a huff. “Spent half the night tossin’ in bed and the other half down here punchin’ my demons away.”

Killer lets out a breath of relief, pride swelling in his chest. “You did good, man. I knew you could do it.” He doesn’t say that Kid should’ve called him. It’s good that Kid is trying to face his battles alone, even though he knows Killer will always be there for him.

Then he follows a familiar path towards the cabinet to retrieve the first aid kit. This time, though, dread doesn’t weigh his steps, and pain doesn’t constrict his movements.

Kid is getting better.

“Let me fix your knuckles, idiot. Why the fuck didn’t you wear gloves?” Killer drops the kit on the workbench and opens it with a ruckus, sorting through the contents and complaining about needing to get more bandages.

His best friend joins him, wiping his hands on a rag, his eyes focused on cleaning a stubborn oil stain on his wrist. After a few moments of silence, he answers.

“Pain has always been the answer. I used to go to the Pit because gettin’ hit chased the voices away.” He sighs heavily as Killer starts cleaning up the dried blood. “I want to feel each punch as it hits. If this hurts—” he gestures to his hands and his body, then taps his temple. “—it don’t feel so fuckin’ loud inside my head.”

Killer finishes cleaning the blood and places bandages on the cuts, some of which have started to bleed again.

“Crocus is tryin’ to get me to try other ways to silence the noise. He says pain don’t gotta be the only way to do it.” Kid tips his chin at a discarded notebook near Killer’s elbow. “I tried that yesterday, writtin’ what I was feelin’. Fuck. Like I’m good with any of that shit.”

Killer nods and finishes up as Kid flexes his hand, more to have something to do than because it hurts.

“It will take time, Kid. But it will get better.”

Kid’s mouth twists into a humorless smile. “Aye. Aye, I know.”

He must’ve said that to him dozens of times in the last few days alone. They both fall quiet for a moment as Killer packs away the supplies and puts the kit back in the closet.

Then Kid curses low beneath his breath and studies the bandages on his hand, his teeth grinding and throat working before he gathers the courage to ask.

“Have ye seen her?” The words come out rough, like they fought a battle of their own just to get past his throat and pride.

Killer’s breath hitches for a second, surprised that he asked. His chest wars with conflicting emotions, as it always does whenever you are concerned. He knows you and Kid are meant to be and will be together if he has any say in it - which he doesn’t. But it will always hurt to ‘hand you over’ to another man without a fight.

Even if that man is his brother.

“She doin’ okay?” he asks again, his eyes fidgeting, focusing on everything but Killer’s face.

“She’s… better,” Killer starts with a sigh. “She’s hopeful.” Kid’s breath hitches at that, his jaw clenching alongside his fist. Killer can almost hear the thoughts in his mind undermining all the good work he’s been doing. His ghosts are already telling him he’s not worth it, that he’s not good for you.

So Killer speaks again, knowing this information will drag him out of his spiral of thoughts. “She got a job to distract herself.”

“She did?”

“Aye.” Killer shakes his head, a resigned scoff escaping his lips. “She’s working the night shift at ‘The Red Force.’”

Kid’s head snaps up, and he finally meets his friend’s eyes. “Hongo’s?” A nod. “The biker bar?” Another nod. “With that fuckin’ rowdy crowd?” Killer nods and opens his mouth, but Kid doesn’t let him speak. “Shanks let her do that?”

Killer lets out a small chuckle. “Shanks doesn’t ‘let her do’ anything, man. She’s a grown woman. She makes her own choices.”

Kid nods, resigned, his flesh hand scratching the back of his neck. “Aye, aye, yer right. Still…”

“Still…” Killer agrees with the unfinished thought. He knows Hongo’s a good man, and the crowd there usually behaves. They’re mostly regulars who can be trusted. It’s the unexpected drivers who stop to spend the night at the motel nearby that worry him. “Hongo would never let shit go down in his bar, Kid.”

“Aye.” He pauses, a deep line creasing between his eyes. “Aye.”

Killer’s not a betting man. He tends to stay away from any type of addiction. It’s too easy to become hooked on stuff like that, especially as a form of escapism.

But if he were…

“Back to work, man, got plenty of shit to do,” Kid barks, turning back to Garp’s truck with renewed vigor.

If he were a betting man, he would bet all his money Kid was planning something.

-*-

Your days have flown by more easily now that your nights are occupied. Hongo stays with you until around midnight on most days, then you’re left with Roux, the cook. He comes out to help if the kitchen isn’t busy, and he’s big enough to scare any straggler who comes looking for trouble.

You’ve fallen into a steady rhythm.

Though sometimes it doesn’t seem like you’re doing much with your life, like something is missing. Those are the times your brain starts to conjure up pictures of Kid. Especially the ones of you having fun: the beach, the paint fight, building Victoria, the motel…

And that’s when you double up your efforts and start scrubbing the counter harder.

Like now.

It’s Friday night and the bar is full. Hongo’s there next to you, serving beers and cheeky comebacks to his regulars while you try to pick up your pace waiting tables.

You’ve become quite adept at it, and you’ve been getting good at small talk too, so the tips have been steady and a nice reward.

The rush of air from the door being opened gets your attention, a mechanical answer from your body that you’ve grown accustomed to as a way of assessing how many more patrons are coming and who they are.

But before your brain even registers, you feel who it is in your body. The air thickens, suffocates you, and a shiver courses up your spine. Your heart lurches, and you gasp at the sudden prickling of tears behind your eyes.

It’s Kid.

He stands in the doorway a moment, searching the bar before entering, until his eyes find you and still. Neither of you moves.

It’s like all breath is stolen from your lungs. Like your heart wants to escape your body. Like your head is so light, you might faint.

He looks the same and yet different.

The same ripped jeans, the same leather jacket (not the one with the shop’s emblem, that one is still in your closet), the same untamed hair. But his eyes… There’s still sadness in them, pain, and grief. But there is also… hope.

Time stretches, and you press your lips together, trying not to cry. You’re not quite sure you’re ready to speak with him again. Killer said he was doing better, but what if he’s not? What if you give yourself to him again and he just falls back into the same pattern and pushes you away?

Or worse. What if he doesn’t want you anymore?

He spares you the agony and simply nods. Just a small dip of his chin before he heads to the far end of the bar and sits there, ordering a soda from Hongo, who greets him familiarly.

It takes a whistle from a patron to get your attention back to your job, and then he gets a scolding from you because, one, you’re not a dog, and two, just freaking wait your turn.

Can’t a girl have a meltdown in the middle of a bar?

So you resume your duties: serving tables, food, drinks, ringing up tabs, and collecting tips. You try to ignore Kid’s presence. He’s quiet, fidgeting with his phone or just observing his surroundings.

He never once tries to talk to you.

You spend the rest of your shift distracted, half expecting him to come up to you and say something, but he doesn’t. He’s just there.

And then when the bar closes and you finish up, you freeze on the way to your car. Because Kid’s there, too. Leaning against his Harley, helmet resting on the handle, arms crossed, and his gaze set on you.

Your heart thunders away relentlessly in your chest. You want to talk to him, you crave to hear the particular roughness of his voice, to hear his gruff chuckles, to see his smirk.

But he doesn’t come closer.

Only when you pass by him in your car does he get on the bike and leave.

The next night he comes again. And the one after. And the one after that.

He never speaks to you, just gives a nod of acknowledgment. You notice his hands trembling from time to time, his legs bouncing restlessly, or his foot tapping on the floor. He orders his drinks from Hongo or Roux. And he just stands there in the corner. Same spot, same soda, same aura.

He watches. He drinks. He’s… present.

And without fail, he’s always in the parking lot, making sure you get to your car safely and leave.

You don’t know what it means. You can’t make sense of any of it. But part of you thinks that maybe he’s trying to show you he’s changed.

-*-

It’s the fifth night in a row Kid’s come to see you work, and it’s not getting any easier. Not only did he have to answer Killer’s questions about where he was going every night and endure the ensuing lecture about him weighing the pros and cons of being at a bar surrounded by alcohol and violence and… well… you, but he has also had to endure being so close to you and yet so far away.

He doesn’t miss the way you lock eyes with him every time he enters the goddamned bar - that mix of hope and grief and maybe a little bit of dread, too. He doesn’t miss all the times you pass near him but don’t stop to engage, or all the times you seem like you want to say something only to go back to serving drinks instead.

He definitely doesn’t miss the constant sadness behind your eyes. That usual sparkle of life just… gone.

He has to keep telling himself he can’t speak with you yet. Not yet. You told him that until he becomes the man you believe him to be, you’re done.

So he bides his time.

He watches you and makes sure you get to your car safely. Makes sure you’re out of trouble and no one’s bothering you in that bar. That’s all.

But even staying quietly in the shadows is proving his resolve.

Every time Hongo gets a little closer to you and you smile, his heart clenches. Every time he grabs your arm or your shoulder to get your attention or direct you somewhere, his chest burns. Every time you’re grateful for the help he gives you, your eyes soften as you thank him, and Kid feels like the rug has been swept out from under him.

He doesn’t even have any claim to this jealousy. You’re not his. And Hongo is a good man. He’s not even doing anything wrong.

But logic can’t seem to push the jealousy away. It doesn’t really stop him from clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth every time Hongo brushes your arm.

Even though Kid has no right.

He lost it when he pushed you away.

-*-

“You need backup, babe?” Nami asks, taking out a few cupcakes from a box and setting them on a plate. “I can clear my schedule and act like a bodyguard anytime!”

You laugh at her while pouring a cup of tea for both of you. She’s been very supportive lately, and you’ve been filling her in on everything that’s been going on, or you know she’ll throw a fit if you keep her in the dark again.

“I don’t need bodyguards, Nami. Kid’s not even speaking to me. He just… he just sits and drinks soda.”

Nami leans her hip against the table and breaks the top off a cupcake, turning it upside down and squishing both parts together so she doesn’t get frosting on her nose before taking a bite.

“I didn’t even think his body could stomach anything other than beer or whiskey,” she snorts, but you just sigh, mimicking her actions with a chocolate cupcake and plopping onto a chair. “So he hasn’t even tried talking to you?”

You shake your head. “Killer says he’s not ready yet. He needs time, he—” You huff out a shaky breath. “He doesn’t want to disappoint me anymore. He wants things to be… right.”

“Sweetheart, that’s the bare minimum… You know I don’t know Kid very well, so I’m probably biased, but what he did to you…” Nami snarls. “I would’ve clocked him right there if you’d told me sooner.”

You reach out your hand to hers and smile. “Appreciate the sentiment, Nami, but it’s okay. I—”

“It’s not okay, though! Don’t excuse his behavior just because he has ‘issues’! I’m not saying to give up on him, you gave him an ultimatum, and that’s good! Claim back your girl power, babe, but that’s not enough.” She stamps her foot on the floor. “That man needs to properly apologize and, yeah, maybe grovel a little bit before you give him the time of day! Got it?”

“Amen, Nami!” Shanks replies enthusiastically, and you roll your eyes. He just had to enter the kitchen at the right time. “Or maybe never give him the time of day… just saying…” he mumbles before snatching a cupcake from the tray.

You sigh heavily, leaning back on the chair and closing your eyes. It’s not that simple. He does have issues, but you don’t even know the full extent of them. You have no idea how deep his scars really go. He needs time and help.

And understanding.

“I’ve had it with advice. Thank you, Dad, and thank you, Nami. I’m a big girl. I’ve got this.”

-*-

You don’t ‘got this’ at all.

The next shift, ‘The Red Force’ is packed. Hongo called, asking if there was any way you could make it in earlier because there was a biker convention a few towns over, and they all decided to crash there for drinks and fun.

And now it’s only midnight, there are two hours left on the shift, and everything hurts: your feet, your arms, your head, your freaking soul.

You can’t stand another disgusting catcall, you can’t stand stepping on something yucky and sticky and wondering what it is, and you definitely can’t stand being called ‘doll’ one more time.

Yet, the bar is still packed.

This time, you didn’t even notice when Kid arrived, but he’s there. Not at the usual place because it was occupied, he’s far closer to the beer tap tonight, and every time you come panting behind the bar to fulfill an order, he raises his head and stares at you, his eyebrows scrunched, his lips pursed. You’re half expecting him to tell you to slow down and take a break - you could use one - but he doesn’t say anything. He just exhales sharply, leaving any judgmental words to himself.

It’s okay. Two hours left. You can ignore what bothers you, and you can handle the rest.

Until you can’t.

You’re weaving through patrons and tables, empty tray in hand, ready to gather glasses from a nearby table, when a grubby hand snakes around your waist, gripping hard.

You gasp, the tray clattering to the floor as you try to twist free. But before you can, you’re yanked backward into a man’s lap.

“C’mon, doll. Keep me company for a little bit,” his voice slurs near your ear, his breath reeking of beer. Then, before you can open your mouth or even move, a metal hand wraps around the man’s collar, nearly lifting his butt off the stool, and a flesh one grabs your upper arm, yanking you out of his lap.

Kid.

He pushes you behind him, his hand dropping to grip yours, even though his fiery eyes are pinned on the man’s glazed ones. Your heart hammers against your chest as you unwittingly squeeze his hand.

You’ve seen this play out before.

Kid is going to break this man’s face to bits. And it’s not going to be pretty.

You open your mouth to stop him, but he leans down, his face inches from the man who pulled you into his lap. When he speaks, it’s with a calmness you would never associate with Kid.

“Put yer grubby paws on her again, buddy, and yer leavin’ here in an ambulance.”

The man tries to laugh it off, but it comes out as a garbled sound. He looks at Kid and then at you, stammering some excuses. “Twas just a joke, man! She was begging for—”

“Ye better not finish that thought.”

The man squeaks. You can see the way his throat bobs as he swallows hard. Then he raises his hands in the air in defeat and gets up. “I was just leaving. I’m leaving.”

Kid looks at him again, his hand still gripping the man’s collar, his mouth still twisted in half a snarl.

Silence. The whole bar stops to witness a brawl, and the only sound comes from the old jukebox playing ‘Until it Sleeps’ like it’s just a regular weekday.

Then Kid lets go, taking a deep breath to compose himself before the man scrambles out of the bar, tail between his legs. When Kid turns to you, his eyes soften, and you close your mouth, only now realizing you’d been holding it open, expecting the worst from Kid.

“Ye good?” It’s the first time he's spoken to you in weeks. Your lower lip trembles, and he narrows his eyes, his hand still gripping yours, like it belongs there, like it never should’ve left the heat of your skin.

You can only nod.

And then your eyes lock again. Time slows down, and your heart stutters. Kid opens his mouth again. “I—”

“What’s going on?” Hongo interrupts whatever Kid was about to say, and you both let out a charged breath. Earth returns to spinning, and time begins moving again.

But Kid’s still holding your hand.

“Let her go, son,” Hongo says assertively, placing himself between you and Kid like you need protection from the redhead.

Kid raises his eyebrows, and you stutter, trying to find the right words. Kid’s not the bad guy here, he was protecting you. Maybe Hongo missed that.

“I—” you start.

“I ain’t gonna hurt her,” Kid rasps, and his voice comes out sounding wounded. His teeth clash against one another, and he starts breathing heavily.

“Okay. So let her go then. Or I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Hongo, it’s—” Kid drops your hand abruptly, and you gasp at the loss of contact. “—fine,” you finish. “K—he was helping me.” It’s hard to say Kid’s name when he’s standing right there, like it might rip a piece of your soul.

Hongo doesn’t take his eyes off Kid, but he nods in understanding. “Thanks, then.” Then he turns to you, wraps his hand around your forearm, and pulls you to the back of the bar. “All right, everyone, back to your business, busybodies!”

Your heart can’t stop pounding in your chest. Kid protected you without losing his temper. He was deadly calm. Nothing like the enraged man you’d seen at the gas station, way back when.

But when Hongo interfered, assuming he was hurting you, you could see the pain returning to his eyes. It seemed for a moment he’d let himself believe he was worthy, and then the next, it all went up in flames.

You take a moment for yourself in the kitchen to drink some water and force your hands to stop shaking. When you return, Kid is still sitting at the bar, his presence so intimidating that there is only empty space around him.

Nobody bothers you the rest of the night.

And the next drink Kid orders is a glass of whiskey.

-*-

“Just the one?” Killer sips from his coffee cup and nods his head in appreciation of the beverage. He told Kid he’d bought the coffee at Sanji’s café since you’d told him it was the best, and damn, the blond simp does make good coffee.

“Aye, man. It was one glass of whiskey. That’s all. I stopped.”

Killer nods and pats his back. “Don’t worry, man. We knew this was going to happen again. You stopped. You acknowledged your mistake. Now we move forward again.”

“It’s just…” Kid sighs, setting the cup to the side as he rummages around the toolbox, looking for nothing in particular. “I handled the fuckin’ creep that laid hands on her. No shoutin’, no punchin’, she actually looked fuckin’ surprised.” With another sigh, he threads his fingers through his hair and looks at Killer. “And then Hongo came along and told me to get my hands off her. Like I was fuckin’ dangerous.”

Killer leans against the workbench, scratching his jaw as he stares at the ceiling. “Maybe he didn’t catch the whole thing. You said the bar was busy. Maybe he thought the commotion was about you, not the other fucker.”

“But why’s he gotta be so fuckin’ protective of her?” Kid growls. He shouldn’t even be angry about that; he should be thankful that you’ve got somebody to keep watch over you when he’s not there. But still… a selfish part of him wishes he could be the only one to ever make you feel safe.

He’s reminded again that he gave up that right when he acted like a fucking asshole.

“He’s the boss, Kid. He’s probably like that with all his employees.”

Oh.

“Makes fuckin’ sense, actually,” he reluctantly agrees, and Killer nods. However, the silence that follows is a clear indicator that neither of them believes those words.

“We gotta go, Kid. Stop stalling. We don’t want to be late.” Killer changes the subject.

Kid closes the toolbox and reaches for his keys and phone before following Killer out the door and into his truck. They’re headed for another veterans meeting.

Kid still doesn’t think he’ll share his story this time.

But even he has to admit that listening to other people talk has made him realize that his is not the only pain in the world and that there are more broken people around him.

He doesn’t have to be a victim. The other veterans don’t act like victims. They acknowledge what happened to them, accept it, deal with it, and try their best to move on.

That’s what he needs to do.

That’s how he gets better.

-*-

It’s just one of those fucking nights.

You can’t recall if it started when you couldn’t remember how to prepare an ‘Old Fashioned’ for some new-money college graduate flaunting around with his frat friends, or if it happened when the old handle on the beer tap finally snapped and decided to sabotage you by exploding beer into your face.

Or maybe it was the shitty tips, the three glasses you shattered, or that one time you slipped on the sticky floor and fell on your butt.

Whenever it started, it quickly became clear that this is not your night.

But the last call came and went, Roux kicked the drunken patrons out the door and helped you clean up and cash out in record time. If it weren’t for the fact that you’d forgotten your purse in your locker and had to go back to get it, you’d say the night was finally turning around.

When you finally make it to the parking lot, it starts to rain.

“For fuck’s sake,” you grumble between your teeth as you run through muddy puddles to get to your car. Freaking spring storms.

Once you’re seated inside, you shake yourself like a dog and turn the key in the ignition, itching for a shower, a bar of chocolate, and your cozy bed. But the night still has plans for you.

The car sputters. Then it does a whole ‘one-man’ show: it whines, it clicks, it chokes, and goes silent.

“No. No, no, no, no. Not today, come on!”

The rain hits harder on the roof of the car, like an ominous, foreboding soundtrack to doom, and you twist the key again, patting the dash slowly and praying it cooperates this time.

It doesn’t.

The engine sputters again, chokes, and dies.

It just dies.

You stare at the steering wheel for a moment before hitting your palm against it three times and then pressing your forehead against your curled hands while a frustrated scream slips past your lips.

It’s just the perfect ending to a shitty night.

Unwittingly, tears start to pool in the corners of your eyes, the burning in your chest expanding, turning the frustration into sadness and helplessness.

Ugly sobs shake your shoulders as more tears stream down your cheeks. And, at this point, you don’t even know why you’re crying. You’re just sad and lonely, and not at all at the point where you’d wish to be with your life.

It’s all so frustrating.

Tap, tap, tap.

Your breath hitches, your face snapping upwards, swollen and wet, and you turn towards the window.

Kid.

Kid’s next to the car, hand still raised from tapping the window, hair glued to his forehead and face from the rain, shirt soaked and clinging to his muscles. He frowns when he sees your tears, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“Pop the hood,” he says with gravitas.

It takes a moment for your brain to register the request before you press the lever. It takes another moment for the situation to sink in: Kid is out in the rain working on your car so you can get your ass home.

With a heavy inhale, you reach towards the back seat and search the floor, confident that you have thrown an umbrella there at some point. When you find it, you take another moment to gather courage and then open the door and exit the car.

He stops what he’s doing when you approach him. You’re pointing your phone to the inside of the hood to shine the flashlight on it so he can actually see what he’s doing, and holding the umbrella open over both your heads.

Kid clears his throat and continues to work.

For a while, there’s only the rain. The steady patter on the metal of the car, the light splashes of the puddles forming around you.

Then, there are your ragged breaths. Accelerated, too deep, too uneven.

Then, Kid’s tools. The little clinks and clanks as he checks what’s wrong.

And then, he speaks.

“I was just nineteen when I got assigned my own squad,” your head snaps, wide eyes searching his, but he’s not looking at you. His jaw is set, his gaze fixed on the engine. “Youngest fuckin’ squad leader in a generation, they said.”

He scoffs, a bitter huff as he shakes his head.

“I was a fuckin’ angry punk kid with a hero complex and somethin’ to prove. But I was damn good at my fuckin’ job.”

You drink every word that comes out of his mouth like it’s water. No breath leaves your lips, you’re too afraid to spook him, to shatter this moment of vulnerability.

“They gathered the ones nobody wanted to deal with and assigned them to me. The fuckups, the rulebreakers, the fuckin’ loudmouths.” Kid smiles, a genuine smile even though it’s filled with sadness. “They called me Eustass Captain Kid.”

He stays quiet for another moment, his hands still and his eyes very far away from you. Then his smile wavers, the wrench twitches, and he continues.

“Everybody thought we’d be done for in the first missions, but we came back from each one smilin’. Our accomplishments speakin’ for themselves. We were cocky as shit. Thought we were invincible. And we were, for three years.”

Your heart clenches and your lip starts to tremble before he even gets to the part you know will hurt.

“The mission was simple. Recon. In, out. No contact, they said. We went into the fuckin’ warehouse smilin’ and jokin’. Wire went in first, as usual. He was a quiet man, put-together, the voice of reason.” Kid pauses, and his hands start to shake. “We were ambushed. The first bomb took out a pillar. It came crashin’ on top of him. I heard his fuckin’ ribs break.”

A gasp leaves your lips and you press them between your teeth to contain a sob. Kid swallows hard, jaw clenching before he speaks again.

“Bubblegum was still a fuckin’ kid, barely eighteen. Had just joined our squad, always poppin’ that stupid gum in my ears, gettin’ on my nerves. He rushed to Wire, tryin’ to pull him from under the pillar when another blast went off. He was burned to death. When I close my eyes I still see his eyeballs meltin’ as he screams.”

Too much. Oh, God. It’s too much pain. You never imagined…

“At this point we were all tryin’ to take cover, call for backup, but we were still caught in the middle of surprise and sudden grief. Heat turned to signal he had eyes on the enemy when a PKM machine gun - somethin’ powerful as fuck - went off. The blast took half his face right off, then shredded through the Kevlar vest; he was dead before he hit the ground. Like a fuckin’ marionette without strings.”

Another sob rips out from your mouth and this one you can’t contain. Kid doesn’t stop. He can’t, even if he wanted to.

“Quincy and Hip were always together. They’d make the boys’ lives a livin’ hell. Always tauntin’ us, bein’ the only girls in the squad and all. Quincy saw the grenade launcher ready to fire in the direction where Hip and Reck were takin’ cover and ran to pull them out. She got hit by a shotgun blast to the chest, tore a hole bigger than my fuckin’ fist.”

Tears are flowing freely down your cheeks now, and you don’t even care. Kid’s hand is gripping the wrench so tightly that his knuckles are white.

“Reck was a gun enthusiast. Could talk about ‘em for hours on end. He and Hip couldn’t get out of the way of the launcher, and one minute they were there… next… they were pink mist. We couldn’t even bring nothin’ home with us.”

Kid’s throat works past another lump as he braces his hands on the car. He’s shaking. Even his voice comes in tremors and gasps. If you had to guess, you’d say this is the first time he’s talked about this since it happened.

“Killer…” His voice catches, and so does your breath. You’ve seen Killer’s face. You know he was hurt, and even though you know he’s alive, your heart still skips a beat, a grief so big at the thought of losing him that you set your phone down and place a hand over your heart. Right where it’s aching.

Kid continues. “Killer saw a grenade rollin’ towards us and… fuck. That fuckin’ asshole didn’t even try to get away. He jumped and threw me out of its path. He died, too, on the medevac.” Your eyes widen, and another bout of tears rolls down your cheeks. “For one minute and thirty-three seconds my best friend - my brother - was dead. Just to fuckin’ save me.”

How was Kid ever supposed to have a shot at happiness in this life? How can he not be broken when he saw his friends - his family - get torn to pieces right in front of his eyes? On a mission he was leading, too. Obviously he felt responsible for their demise, even though he wasn’t at fault. Not at all.

It’s too much. Too much pain, too much grief, just… too much.

Kid drags a hand down his face, trying to chase away demons with the gesture. “They told me I was a fuckin’ hero, anyway. Got some medals, and they sent me and Killer home. My whole squad died, and I got medals and a metal arm.”

Kid finally lifts his red-rimmed eyes to look at you. He’s devastated.

“They’re dead. And I’m not,” he stutters, lips quivering. “They trusted me with their lives. I was their captain, their friend, and I couldn’t save ‘em.”

Your heart feels like it’s shattering against your ribs, and you’re both soaked because somewhere during his story, you dropped the umbrella.

“I didn’t hold the gun, but I fuckin’ killed ‘em,” he says flatly. His voice sounds hollow and very far away.

A wave of nausea churns your stomach. There are tears and rain on your cheeks, and a strong desire to make Kid’s pain disappear.

So you don’t think.

You can’t.

With a strangled sob, you step into him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you lean your head on his chest and just hold him.

For a long moment, he goes rigid. You hold your breath, teeth grinding against each other as you try not to fall apart.

And then he wraps his arms around you, his head buried in your shoulder as he takes a deep, steadying breath.

He doesn’t cry. But he holds you like he’s breaking apart, and you’re the only thing keeping him upright.

An ugly thought rushes through your brain, reminding you that you shouldn't be hugging him, that you still haven’t forgiven him for what he did to you, that you’re breaking your own rules, because he’s still not better.

You quickly shut those thoughts down and hold him closer.

This man was swallowed whole by grief and pain, forged in the fires of devastation and guilt. There’s no way in hell you’re letting him go without a comforting touch.

A kinder part of your brain reminds you that maybe this is part of his process. That sharing this with you, showing all the vulnerable, ugly parts of him, is also healing.

And these thoughts you welcome with open arms.

When you both finally pull back, he runs a hand through his damp hair, reaches down to pick up your umbrella, and tweaks another thing under the hood before closing it.

“Aye,” he clears his throat and looks at you like nothing happened, like he hasn’t spent the last fifteen minutes baring his soul to you. “Yer car will get ye home, but I’ll send Killer to Shanks’ farm in the mornin’ to properly fix it.”

You nod softly. The weight of everything still pressing on your shoulders, tears still streaming down your face. You want to thank him, but you can’t find the words, because if you open your mouth to speak, you’ll have to do so much more than just thank him for what he did to your car.

And you still can’t do it.

Kid’s throat works as his gaze lingers on yours. The shadows in his eyes seemed to have receded somewhat. He takes a tentative step towards you and reaches out his hand, wiping the wetness on your cheek with such tenderness that another tear quickly replaces the dampness.

“This wasn’t yer night, was it, Sparkles?”

The nickname drags another sob, and your stomach churns. Every instinct tells you to hold him again, to kiss him, to forget all that went wrong, and just try again, try harder, just try!

Instead, you choke out a watery laugh, and he smiles.

“Right. Drive safe.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

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