#spent a lot of time vibing and healing there

[turtledotjpeg]

girls who go 🧍

[rowanhoney]

insisting on a celibacy phase was maybe a bit much but honestly it fixed me

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 2

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦,"

summary: as time progressed, Joel notice something's wrong and then at one night, You stood at his door, looking disheveled and distressed, your face streaked with tears and your clothes rumpled. 

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, r4p3, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 2

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter one

next | chapter three

Saturday arrived with a sense of dread you couldn’t shake. The dinner invitation at Tommy and Maria's hung over your head like a dark cloud. Joel had decided to come, partly due to Ellie and Tommy's insistence, and also because it was a chance to catch up with your family, the Gibsons.

The aftermath of last Sunday's beating from your father for abandoning your duty at church service had left you changed. The light in your eyes had dimmed, replaced by a quiet resilience. Your body was still sore, the bruises and scars not fully healed, making even the simplest movements painful.

You worried some of the wounds might be infected, as you had been running a high fever and coughing for days. Your mother was concerned but too scared to take you to the hospital. In this small town, everyone knew each other, and a trip to the doctor would raise questions. Your family's reputation, especially with your father being the town preacher, was paramount. So, your mother did her best to care for you at home, but it wasn't enough.

You still went to school, hiding your condition under oversized sweaters. You had no close friends, just a few acquaintances, but you were well-known as one of the prettiest girls and the preacher's daughter. Boys liked you, always trying to get close, but you kept your distance. One day at school, Ellie noticed you didn't look well and asked if you were sick. You lied, saying you were fine.

"You sure? You don't look so good," Ellie said, her eyes filled with concern.

"I'm fine, Ellie, really. Just tired from studying for finals," you replied, forcing a smile.

Ellie frowned, clearly unconvinced. "If you say so. Just... take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will," you promised, though you weren't sure if it was a promise you could keep.

As one of the smartest students, your teachers noticed your decline and sent you to the school's psychologist. The psychologist observed your physical and mental changes, but you lied again, blaming sleepless nights spent preparing for graduation.

As your family prepared to go to the Millers, you told your mother you might not be able to go because your body was still sore. The scars hadn't healed, and you worried about infection. You'd had a high fever for days.

"Mama, I don't think I can go tonight. My body still hurts so much," you said, your voice weak.

Your mother, worried but too afraid to confront your father, insisted you come. "You know your father will be angry if you don't come. It's better if you come, even if you're not feeling well," she said, her voice trembling.

Reluctantly, you agreed. For the first time in a while, you applied makeup to cover the bruises on your skin, arms, and the corners of your eyes and cheeks. Your father reminded you to behave, to maintain decorum as a preacher's daughter, and not to embarrass him.

"Remember, you represent this family. Behave yourself and don't cause any trouble," your father said sternly.

"Yes, Father," you replied, obedient as always, though the words felt heavy on your tongue. The weight of his expectations bore down on you, threatening to crush the fragile strength you had left.

At Tommy and Maria's house, Joel and Ellie were already there. Your family arrived at their front door, your mother's grip on the pasta dish tightening as if it were a lifeline.

Maria opened the door with a warm smile, her eyes lighting up at the sight of your family. "Oh, Evelyn! Father Gibson! It's so good to see you all. Come in, come in!"

Your mother returned the smile, albeit a bit strained. "Thank you, Maria. We brought some pasta for adding some to the dishes."

"Oh, Evelyn, this pasta looks amazing. Thank you so much," Maria said, taking the dish and placing a gentle hand on your mother's arm. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble."

"It's no trouble at all," your mother replied, her voice soft. "It's the least we could do."

Maria led you all inside, the house filled with the comforting aroma of home-cooked food. You stepped in and immediately met Ellie.

"Hey, how are you? You didn't look so good at school the other day," she said, her voice full of concern.

"I'm okay, just a bit under the weather," you lied, trying to sound convincing.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ellie asked again, her eyes narrowing with worry. "You really didn't look well. Are you getting enough rest?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Just tired from all the studying for finals."

Ellie wasn't convinced but nodded. "Alright, but if you need anything, just let me know, okay? We can study together if that helps."

"Thank you, Ellie. I appreciate it," you said, grateful for her concern but knowing you had to keep your secrets hidden.

Maria, finishing her conversation with your mother, turned her attention to you. "Sweetheart, you look a bit pale. Are you feeling alright?"

In front of your parents, you forced another smile. "I'm fine, really. Just a bit tired," you said, your voice steady but hollow.

Your mother quickly added to the lie, her voice filled with false cheerfulness. "Oh, you know Maria. She's almost graduate and been working so hard on her studies. It's just stress, really, right honey?" You nodded to your mother.

Your father, ever the manipulator, chimed in with a practiced smile. "She's fine, just been studying hard for her finals. Nothing to worry about."

Maria looked unconvinced but didn't press further. It was just another sad reminder of the facade your family maintained, the preacher's household hiding its cracks beneath a veneer of perfection.

You moved further into the house, your father's charm offensive continuing as he greeted Tommy. "Tommy, good to see you! How's everything going?"

"Going well, Tony. Just keeping busy with the business and this little guy," Tommy said, gesturing to his newborn son, Luke.

"He's adorable," you said, managing a genuine smile as you looked at the baby. For a moment, the weight on your shoulders lightened.

"Thank you," Tommy said proudly. "He's a handful, but we're loving every minute."

As you continued to mingle, you felt Joel's eyes on you. He was helping Tommy with the food, but his concern was palpable. He approached you, his expression serious.

You smiled at Joel, remembering the last time you interacted with him by the lake. That memory was a rare bright spot amidst the pain your father had caused after it.

"Hey, Joel. Good to see you here," you said, wondering why he decided to come. You tried to lighten the mood, despite the pain radiating through your body with every movement. The fabric of your clothes rubbed against your skin, irritating the unhealed scars, but you did your best to endure it.

"Ellie and Tommy wouldn't take no for an answer," Joel replied, his tone a mix of annoyance and warmth.

You chuckled softly, though the motion sent a sharp pain through your ribs. "They can be pretty persuasive."

Joel's eyes softened slightly, but his concern remained. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired from all the studying. It's near my graduation, and I have to prepare for the finals."

Joel's eyes lingered on you, taking in the pallor of your skin and the dark circles under your eyes. "You look sick. Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his concern. Joel was a man of few words, often letting his actions speak for him. His gruff exterior hid a deeply protective nature, one that he rarely showed to anyone. "I'm okay, really. Just a bit run down," you replied, trying to sound convincing.

Joel frowned, clearly not convinced, but he decided to lighten the mood. "So, how's school going? When are the big finals?"

You forced a smile, trying to ease the tension. "Yeah, finals are coming up. Lots of studying and late nights."

Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. "I remember those days. Ellie gives me a hard time about studying too. But she's a smart kid, just like you."

"Thanks, Joel," you said softly, appreciating his attempt to comfort you. You cracked a small joke, trying to lighten the mood. "I just hope I don't end up like a zombie by the end of it."

Joel chuckled, though his eyes remained serious. He noticed how you occasionally winced and shifted your weight, clearly in pain. "You sure everything's okay at home?" he asked gently.

"Everything's great," you lied, remembering your father's stern warning. "Just the usual stress of school and stuff."

Joel's concern deepened, but he didn't push further. But before Joel could probe further, your father suddenly joined the conversation, his presence commanding attention.

"Joel, good to see you," he said with a broad smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What are you two talking about?"

Joel straightened, his demeanor shifting. "Just catching up, Reverend."

Your father chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "Joel, we’re at dinner. Call me Tony. We’re friends, remember?"

"Sure, Tony," Joel said, though the familiarity felt forced.

"How's the construction business going, Joel?" your father asked, his tone amiable.

"Busy as always," Joel replied, his eyes drifting back to you occasionally. "But it's good. Keeps me occupied."

Your father nodded, pretending to be interested. "That's great to hear. We should get together sometime, reminisce about the old days."

Joel's gaze met yours briefly, and you felt a flutter of something in your chest. "Yeah, that sounds good," he said, his voice lacking enthusiasm but polite nonetheless.

As they continued to talk, you couldn't help but steal glances at Joel, feeling a strange sense of longing. His concern was genuine, unlike the superficial care your father displayed. It made you yearn for something more, something real.

Joel's eyes met yours again, and for a moment, it felt like he could see everything you were hiding. His concern was like a warm blanket on a cold night, a small comfort in the midst of your storm. You smiled at him, a silent thank you for his kindness, and he returned the gesture with a slight nod.

"You remember the time we went fishing at the lake, Joel?" your father said, trying to sound nostalgic. "We caught that huge bass, and you almost fell in trying to reel it in."

Joel smiled, though it was a shadow of his usual warmth. "Yeah, I remember. Good times."

You watched the exchange, feeling a pang of longing. Joel's presence was a reminder of what you were missing – genuine care and concern, something your father could never provide.

As dinner progressed, everyone was making conversations and catching up. You remained silent, but to avoid suspicion, you occasionally joined in, talking to Ellie and responding when someone addressed you. Joel observed quietly, speaking only when necessary or when someone engaged him directly. His occasional glances toward you felt like anchors, ensuring you didn’t drift too far into the depths of your own discomfort.

When it was time to sit down for the meal, you ended up seated across from Joel. Your father, ever the sociable one, continued to dominate the conversation, regaling everyone with stories and jokes. You picked at your food, the pain in your body making it hard to eat.

Joel noticed your discomfort, his eyes filled with quiet concern. He whispered after you shifted uncomfortably for the umpteenth time, "You sure you're okay?" this time in a whisper so your father wouldn’t hear.

You forced another smile. "I'm fine, Joel. Just tired."

He didn't look convinced, but he let it go, respecting your space. His presence, though, was a constant reminder that someone cared, even if you couldn't fully accept it.

The conversation flowed around you, snippets of dialogue filling the air.

"So, Ellie," your mother said, smiling warmly, "how's school treating you?"

"It's good, Mrs. Gibson. A lot of work, but I'm managing," Ellie replied, glancing at you with a reassuring smile.

Your father, ever the charming host, turned to Tommy. "And how's the construction business? Keeping you busy, I hope?"

Tommy laughed. "Busy doesn't even begin to cover it. We're swamped, but that's a good problem to have."

Joel's eyes flicked back to you as you winced slightly, shifting in your seat. He could see the struggle in your movements, the way you tried to hide your pain. His gaze softened, but he remained silent, respecting your space.

Tommy, clearly enjoying the topic, continued with enthusiasm. "We’re working on this big project downtown. It’s a major redevelopment of an old warehouse into luxury apartments. It's been a challenge, but it’s rewarding. We’re talking high-end finishes, state-of-the-art amenities. It’s a bit of a tightrope walk between maintaining the budget and meeting the client’s vision."

Your father, clearly interested, responded with a knowing nod. "Sounds like a big undertaking. How’s the team handling the pressure?"

Tommy grinned. "We’ve got a solid crew, but it’s been intense. Lots of late nights and early mornings. Joel’s seen the stress firsthand. He’s been around to lend a hand whenever things get tight."

Tommy’s gaze turned to Joel, as if inviting him to elaborate. "Right, Joel? You’ve had your fair share of those late nights, haven’t you?"

Joel nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, late nights and long days. It’s all part of the job. We keep pushing through because, in the end, it’s worth it."

Your father leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "You’ve been in the business a long time, Joel. What’s been the biggest challenge for you lately?"

Joel paused for a moment, thinking. "The biggest challenge is always adapting to new demands. Clients want more, and sometimes it feels like we’re racing against the clock. But we get it done."

Tommy, sensing an opportunity to keep the conversation lively, added, "Joel’s been great about handling the unexpected. I remember one time we had a major issue with a contractor, and Joel stepped in and saved the day."

Joel’s expression remained neutral, but there was a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes for Tommy’s support. "Just doing what needs to be done," he said.

Your mother’s voice was bright and enthusiastic as she shifted the topic. "Tommy, Maria, how’s little Luke doing? I can't believe how quickly he's growing."

Maria’s face lit up with pride. "He’s amazing. It’s been an adjustment, but we’re loving every moment of it. He’s starting to smile more, and it's just the sweetest thing."

Your mother nodded approvingly, her smile wide. "Oh, that’s wonderful! It’s such a joy to watch them grow. We’ve always said that parenting is the most rewarding experience."

The words felt like a raw wound being picked at, each one a reminder of the dissonance between their image of perfect parenting and your own reality. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the sharp pangs of pain that only seemed to intensify with every sugary comment.

Your father, ever the performer, joined in with his own brand of parental wisdom. "Yes, it’s true. Parenting brings out the best in you. It's about guiding them, teaching them right from wrong, and showing them how to navigate the world."

Tommy, clearly enjoying the turn of conversation, added, "Absolutely. We’ve had our challenges, but it’s worth it to see Luke grow and thrive. Every milestone is a victory."

Your mother leaned in with an air of authority. "And don’t forget the importance of structure and discipline. It’s all about finding that balance and being consistent. We always said that’s key to raising well-rounded children."

As the conversation continued, your parents spoke in glowing terms about their parenting philosophy, each statement reinforcing the image of perfection they projected. The more they spoke, the more you felt the weight of their insincerity.

The pain you were trying to suppress seemed to magnify with every word. You gripped your fork tighter, the effort making your knuckles white. You wanted to scream at the facade, the false sense of superiority they exuded while completely ignoring the reality of your struggles.

Joel’s eyes flicked back to you repeatedly, his concern growing more evident with each shift in your posture. He watched as you tried to mask your discomfort, his gaze softening as he saw the strain on your face.

Maria, ever perceptive, noticed the change in your demeanor as well. "Everything alright, sweetheart?" she asked gently, her voice filled with genuine concern.

You forced another smile, though it felt like a mask slipping off. "Just a bit tired, Maria. Nothing to worry about."

Maria didn’t press further but her gaze remained concerned. She glanced at Joel, who gave a subtle nod, acknowledging her unspoken question. Joel’s eyes continued to linger on you, the concern etched deeply into his expression.

As the conversation shifted to a more religious tone, your father, ever the preacher, began to elaborate on his views. His voice took on that familiar, reverent cadence. "Children are a gift from God," he said, his eyes sweeping over the table as if to bless it with his words. "They are entrusted to us to guide, nurture, and instill the values that will shape their futures. It's a sacred duty, one that brings us closer to our faith and to each other."

He continued, the fervor in his voice rising, "The Bible teaches us that we are stewards of these precious souls. Our responsibility is not just to provide for their physical needs, but to mold their character, teach them right from wrong, and guide them in the ways of the Lord."

The words, so full of sanctimonious zeal, felt like a punch to your gut. Each statement was a cruel reminder of the gap between his idealized view of parenting and the harsh reality of your own life. You could feel your discomfort intensify, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm you.

Joel’s gaze shifted between your father’s preachy sermon and your growing distress. His brow furrowed, sensing the tension in the room. He saw you clutching your stomach, your face growing pale. Maria’s concern mirrored his as she glanced at you, her eyes filled with empathy.

Feeling trapped, you struggled to maintain composure, but the discomfort was becoming unbearable. You gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white. The facade of your father's perfect parenting began to feel like a cruel joke, and the more he spoke, the harder it became to stay seated.

Finally, unable to endure any more, you excused yourself. "Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom," you said, standing up quickly. Your voice was strained, but you tried to keep it steady.

Your father’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a coldness in his eyes that made you shiver. "Sit down, dear. It’s not polite to excuse yourself while others are speaking. We’re all here to enjoy each other’s company." The reprimand felt like a vise tightening around you.

You glanced around the table, feeling the pressure of everyone’s gaze. "I really need to go," you said, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to hold your ground.

Your father’s smile turned colder, and the sharpness in his tone cut through the tension. "If you must go," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if warning you not to embarrass him further. "But do you know where the bathroom is? Don't want to bother Tommy and Maria, they are still eating,"

Before you or Tommy an Maria could respond, Joel’s voice cut in, low and steady. "I can show her where it is. I’m finished eating, so I can walk her there."

Your father’s eyes flicked to Joel, his expression softening slightly in a forced show of graciousness. "Thank you, Joel."

You nodded gratefully, feeling a small measure of relief as you met Joel’s concerned gaze. He stood up, his movements deliberate and calm. Maria was occupied with Evelyn, and Ellie was still eating, leaving Joel as the most suitable candidate to help you.

Joel approached you quietly, his demeanor gentle as he offered a reassuring smile. "Come on, I'll show you the way."

You nodded, standing up with a sense of cautious relief. As you walked toward the hallway with Joel, you could feel the weight of the conversation still hanging over you. Joel’s presence was a quiet comfort, his concern a stark contrast to the harshness of your father’s demeanor.

As you made your way down the hall, Joel glanced at you, his eyes filled with genuine worry. "You feeling okay, kid?"

You managed a small, appreciative smile. "I'm good, thanks, Joel."

He gave a reassuring nod as you approached the bathroom door. "I’ll be right here if you need anything. Just take your time."

As you stepped inside the bathroom, the coolness of the tile against your skin was a brief respite from the tension. You leaned against the sink, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The solitude offered a momentary escape from the scrutiny and discomfort you’d felt at the table.

With trembling hands, you slowly opened your dress to check the scars, the ones that had been worsening over the past few days. The sight of them made your heart sink further. They were inflamed, bruised, and itching painfully. You traced the edges with your fingertips, and the pain was sharp and immediate. A stifled hiss escaped your lips as tears welled up in your eyes. The physical agony was overwhelming, but it was compounded by the emotional turmoil of the evening.

You tried to steady your breathing, but the pain made it difficult. Your fingers brushed the scars again, and a small, anguished cry escaped you. The pain was almost unbearable, and you felt the tears streaming down your face uncontrollably.

From outside the door, Joel’s voice cut through the quiet. "Kid, is everything alright in there?"

His voice, tinged with concern, snapped you back to reality. You quickly wiped your tears, trying to compose yourself. "I’m fine, Joel. Just... give me a minute."

There was a moment of silence before Joel spoke again, his voice gentle but firm. "If something’s wrong, you can tell me. I’m here to help."

You hesitated, the pain and fear making it hard to respond. "I... it’s just—it's nothing serious. I’ll be out in a second."

After a few deep breaths and a final check, you composed yourself as best as you could. You pulled your dress back into place, the physical discomfort still sharp but slightly more manageable. You wiped away the remaining tears, trying to regain your composure.

Opening the bathroom door, you found Joel still standing there, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of concern and patience. You offered him a shaky smile, hoping to convey that you were alright. "Thanks for waiting."

Joel’s gaze lingered on you, his concern deepening as he took in the faint tremble in your hands and the redness in your eyes. "You okay, kid?"

You nodded and smiled, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

Joel didn't respond immediately, his eyes searching yours for the truth. “You sure? You look...like you're in pain."

Your smile faltered, and you looked down, unable to maintain the facade under his steady gaze. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, trying to deflect. “Just...school stress."

Joel's eyes narrowed slightly, but he decided not to push further. "Alright, if you say so. Let’s get back to dinner.”

You both returned to the dining room, where the atmosphere had lightened considerably. The meal continued with lively conversation, the clinking of silverware, and the warm glow of shared company.

After dinner, your mom joined Maria in the kitchen to help with the dishes, their laughter and chatter floating through the house. Outside, your father, Tommy, and Joel settled on the backyard porch, their conversation punctuated by the occasional sound of a beer bottle opening or the murmur of crickets.

You found yourself in the living room with Ellie, who was scrolling through her phone while little Luke slept peacefully on the couch. You took a seat next to her, and she looked up, smiling.

"Hey," you said, leaning back into the cushions. "How's school been for you?"

Ellie shrugged, putting her phone down. "It's alright, I guess. Same old stuff. How about you? Finals must be tough, huh?"

"Yeah, they are," you admitted. "But it's almost over. Just a few more months, and then we're done."

Ellie grinned. "Bet you can't wait to get out of here."

You laughed softly. "Yeah, it's definitely time for a change. How about you? Any plans after high school?"

"Maybe college, if I can figure out what I want to do," Ellie replied. "So...Tell me, are there any boys at school you've got your eye on?" She tease giving you a smirk.

You blushed, shaking your head. "No, not really."

Ellie rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, come on. Everyone knows you're like the most popular girl in school. The boys are all over you."

You sighed, feeling a mix of amusement and exasperation. "I can't say I'm like that and it's not quite like that. They're just...curious, I guess."

"Curious about what?" Ellie asked, raising an eyebrow.

You hesitated, then shrugged. "I don't know, it seems like they're curious about me."

Ellie then brought up what she saw a week ago. "So...don't want to be nosy, but I saw you with Jamie the other day. Is he the one?" She gave you a smirk, clearly enjoying teasing you.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "No, he's just a friend."

"Come on, you can tell me," Ellie insisted, nudging you playfully.

You blushed and tried to deflect, but Ellie wasn't letting up. "Stop, Ellie. It was nothing."

Ellie grinned, leaning in closer. "Okay, but don't tell anyone. Jamie's been trying to get close to me. It's been going on for two months now. We’ve gone out a few times. He’s kissed me, but it hasn’t gone beyond that."

Ellie raised an eyebrow, looking more serious. “And he’s asking for more, isn’t he?”

You nodded, feeling a knot of confusion and frustration in your chest. “Yeah. He keeps bringing up sex, but I’ve told him I’m not ready. He said he’d wait, but he keeps asking. I don’t know what to do.”

Ellie leaned back, her expression thoughtful. “Jamie’s the captain of the football team, right? Popular, blonde, not too smart?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” you confirmed, sighing. “He’s nice, but this pressure... I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

Ellie nodded understandingly. “You shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything you’re not ready for. If Jamie really cares about you, he’ll respect your boundaries. And if he doesn’t, then he’s not worth it.”

You sighed again, the weight of your father's teachings pressing down on you. "But... I’m afraid he’ll be disappointed if I don’t do what he wants. Jamie is nice and polite. His family has giving our church a lot...he also giving me a lot of nice stuff, like dress, necklace and all. My dad always said if someone’s nice to you, you should be nice back. And always obey men because they’re higher in status than women."

Ellie’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Who told you that?"

You shrugged, feeling a bit defensive. "My father."

Ellie shook her head, her expression turning serious. "That’s...kinda messed up. Just because someone’s nice doesn’t mean you owe them anything, especially not your body. And men aren’t superior to women. We’re all equal."

You bit your lip, considering her words. "But that’s how my daddy raised me, Ellie. He always says women should obey men."

Ellie leaned forward, her eyes filled with conviction. "Well, according on how Joel raise me. He taught me to stand up for myself and that I’m just as important as any man. It’s about respect, not obedience. You don’t owe Jamie anything just because he’s nice. If he can’t respect your boundaries, he’s not worth your time."

You felt a flicker of hope at her words. "I... I guess you’re right. It’s just hard to go against everything I’ve been taught."

Ellie reached out and squeezed your hand. "I know it’s hard, but you deserve to be with someone who respects you and your choices. Don’t let anyone, not even your father, make you feel less than you are."

When Ellie said that, it felt like a hit to the chest. "Don't let anyone, not even your father, make you feel less..." Her words echoed in your mind, resonating with a truth that was both comforting and terrifying. You wished you could believe it, wished you had the strength to stand up to your father. But the reality of your life loomed large and unyielding. Defiance meant danger. Defiance meant pain.

As Ellie's words replayed in your head, you felt a knot tightening in your stomach. You imagined standing up to your father, telling him that you were more than his expectations, more than his strict rules and harsh punishments. The thought made your heart race with a blend of hope and fear.

You glanced at Ellie, her eyes filled with a fierce, protective light. She believed in you, saw your worth even when you couldn't. It was a beacon in the darkness of your doubt, a small but vital spark of hope.

Yet, the idea of challenging your father felt insurmountable. His shadow stretched long over your life, dictating your every move, every thought. You had been molded by his will, taught to obey without question, to live in the confines of his rigid beliefs.

You had to pretend to be the perfect daughter, maintaining the facade that your father was the saintly preacher everyone believed him to be. The weight of this pretense was suffocating, but it was the only way you knew to survive.

Outside, the conversation between Tommy and your father continued, their voices a low hum against the backdrop of the evening. Joel, on the other hand, was mostly silent, nursing his beer as he leaned against the porch railing. His eyes flicked occasionally to the living room, where you and Ellie were talking.

Joel's expression was hard to read, but there was a tension in his jaw, a tightness in his grip on the beer bottle that hinted at his unease. He listened more to your conversation than to Tommy and your father's, though he tried to appear disinterested. Something about you drew him in, made him care more than he wanted to admit. He told himself it was none of his business, that he had no right to interfere in someone else’s family matters. But still, there was a nagging feeling in his gut, an instinct honed by years of protecting those he loved.

As Joel watched you, he saw the way your shoulders slumped slightly when you thought no one was looking, the way your eyes darted nervously to the doorway whenever a noise came from the kitchen. You were like a skittish animal, always on alert, always ready to flee or freeze. It reminded him too much of the broken children he'd seen in the aftermath of tragedy, children who had learned too young that the world was a dangerous place.

He took another sip of his beer, trying to push the thoughts away. He didn't need more complications in his life. He had enough to deal with, enough to protect. But damn it, there was something about you, something that called out to the part of him that had once been a father, that still is a father to Ellie. It was a part of him that couldn't ignore the signs of distress, the silent cries for help.

In the living room, Ellie continued to speak softly, her words a balm to your troubled heart. "You know," she said, squeezing your hand, "no matter what, you've got me. If you ever need to get away, to take a break, my door's always open."

You looked at her, the warmth in her eyes contrasting sharply with the cold dread that usually filled your days. "Thank you, Ellie," you whispered, your voice barely holding back the tears. "It means more than you know."

Joel caught that moment, saw the brief glimpse of vulnerability and the strength it took for you to accept Ellie’s offer of support. It stirred something deep within him, a protective instinct he hadn't felt in a long time.

He tried to shake it off, focusing back on the conversation outside. Tommy was laughing at something your father said, their voices blending into the background noise of the night. But even as he tried to tune them out, his mind kept drifting back to you. He didn't know what he could do, or if he should do anything at all.

As the evening wore on, Joel glanced back at you one last time, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to help, without overstepping the boundaries he was so careful to maintain.

***

The last few weeks had been a blur of routine and unspoken tension. Each day felt like a balancing act, with you trying to maintain the perfect image your father demanded while wrestling with your own growing doubts and fears. The only moments of relief came when you could steal a few minutes alone with Ellie, her unwavering support a lifeline in the storm.

One evening after school, you found yourself in your usual spot on the porch, the soft hum of cicadas filling the air. You hugged your knees to your chest, staring out at the darkening sky, your thoughts a tangled mess. You were wearing a nice white mini dress, modest yet elegant, with your hair braided into two sides and adorned with white ribbons.

You had managed to keep up appearances at church, attending every service, helping with every event, but the pressure was becoming unbearable. The weight of your father's expectations pressed down on you like a vise, and each day it grew tighter.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar truck parked in your driveway. You watched as a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard and black hair stepped out. He had a ruggedly handsome look about him, and as he saw you, a charming smile spread across his face. He stood there for a moment, then walked towards you with an air of confidence.

“Evenin’,” he said, his voice a smooth drawl. “Is this Father Gibson’s house?”

You nodded, standing up and smoothing your dress. “Yes, it is. Can I help you with something?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “Well, aren’t you a polite one? I’m lookin’ for the Reverend. Is he around?”

You nodded again, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. “He’s inside. I can get him for you.”

As you turned to go inside, he called after you, his voice teasing. “You know, you’ve got a real pretty smile. Brightens up the whole place.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and forced a polite smile. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be right back.”

Inside, you found your father in his study, poring over his notes for Sunday’s sermon. “Dad, there’s someone here to see you.”

Your father looked up, frowning slightly. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know his name, but he’s outside waiting,” you replied.

Your father nodded, rising from his chair and heading towards the door. You followed him, your curiosity piqued.

The man was waiting patiently on the porch, his hands in his pockets. As your father approached, he extended a hand with a broad smile. “Reverend Gibson, pleasure to meet you. I'm Naomi's cousin, I assume she already told you?"

Your father shook his hand, a wary look in his eyes. “Ah, yes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Smith."

The man leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I was hopin’ we could have a little chat. Got some things I’d like to discuss."

Your father glanced at you, then back at him. “Of course. Let’s step inside.”

As they moved inside, the man glanced back at you, giving you a wink. You watched them disappear into the house, a strange mix of apprehension and curiosity swirling inside you.

Not long after, you heard the rumble of Jamie's truck pulling up. Your heart lightened, and you smiled, walking towards the driveway with an eagerness that belied the tension you had been feeling all day. You hung by the fences, your fingers curling around the cool metal as Jamie got out of his truck.

"Hi, Jamie," you said, your voice bright with excitement.

Jamie grinned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. "Hey sweetpie, how are ya doing? looking beautiful as ever,"

Jamie’s compliment made your cheeks flush, and you smiled shyly. “Thanks, Jamie. I’m doing alright. How about you?”

Jamie’s grin widened. “Can’t complain. I was thinking maybe we could catch that new movie tonight. What do you say?”

The thought of escaping the confines of home and spending a carefree evening with Jamie was a welcome distraction. “That sounds great. But I need to ask my dad first.”

Jamie nodded, settling back into the truck as you approached the front door. The door swung open, and you saw your father still deep in conversation with the man you didn’t know, whose gaze was fixed intently on you.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the unnerving feeling that his eyes were tracing every inch of you.

You spoke to your father, trying to keep your tone as casual as possible. “Father, Jamie asked if I could go to the cinema with him tonight. Is it okay?”

Your father glanced at you briefly, then at the man, whose expression was inscrutable but decidedly interested. “Jamie Lee?” your father asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you replied.

Your father’s eyes flickered with annoyance at being interrupted but softened as he looked at you. “It’s not ideal to leave while we have a guest here, but alright, you can go. Be back by eight.”

You thanked him and turned to leave, but as you did, you couldn’t help but notice how the man’s gaze lingered on you. His eyes, though polite, seemed to hold a predatory glint, scanning you with an intensity that made you shiver slightly.

You gave a nervous smile as you rejoined Jamie at the truck, who was looking at you with a hopeful expression. “Dad said it’s fine. Let’s go.”

Jamie’s face lit up, and he slid into the driver’s seat with an easy grin. As he started the engine, he turned on some country music, the tunes filling the truck and momentarily lifting your spirits. The drive was smooth, and you found yourself relaxing, your earlier worries momentarily forgotten.

After the movie, Jamie suggested a detour. “How about we grab a drink? There’s a little bar outside of town where we can chill for a bit. What do you say?”

You hesitated, not entirely sure about the idea but wanting to enjoy the evening. “I don’t know… I’m not really into drinking.”

Jamie reassured you with a charming smile. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fun. Just one drink, I promise.”

When you arrived at the bar, a dimly lit place with a cozy, rustic feel, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. Jamie led you inside, and you slid onto a barstool. Jamie ordered whiskey for himself and told you he’d get you something sweet.

The bartender handed you a glass, and you took a tentative sip, expecting a cherry cola. Instead, the liquid was warm and had a strong, unfamiliar bite. You grimaced, looking at Jamie with confusion. “This doesn’t taste like cherry cola. Are you sure this is what I ordered?”

Jamie leaned in, his voice low and soothing. “Nah, it’s whiskey, babe. I thought you might want to try something a bit more adventurous.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I can’t drink whiskey. I’ve never had it before, and my dad would be really angry if he found out.”

Jamie gave you a reassuring smile, placing a hand on your back. “Relax. It’s just a drink. No one’s gonna know. Besides, it’s just one drink. You’ll be fine.”

You hesitated, glancing around the bar. The atmosphere was relaxed, but you couldn’t shake the nervous feeling in your stomach. Jamie’s insistence and easy demeanor made it hard to say no. You took another small sip, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t a big deal.

Jamie’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he watched you. “Just have a little more. You might actually like it. It’s good for loosening up, you know?”

Reluctantly, you took another sip, feeling the warmth spread through you. The whiskey tasted harsh and made you cough slightly. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

Jamie laughed, a bit too loudly, but with a genuine affection in his voice. “Don’t worry about it. Just relax and have fun. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

Despite the alcohol, you felt an uneasy flutter in your stomach, the drink making you feel lightheaded. Jamie encouraged you to drink more, and you found yourself gradually giving in, the whiskey dulling the edges of your anxiety.

As the evening wore on, you felt the effects of the alcohol more clearly. Your thoughts became hazy, and the room seemed to spin slightly. Jamie’s presence became more comforting, and his laughter more infectious. He kept encouraging you to drink, telling you it was all in good fun.

The bar buzzed with life around you, but the world felt distant, the sounds muffled by the warmth and haze of whiskey. Jamie’s arm around your shoulders was a constant presence, a mix of comfort and tension that made your skin tingle.

As he helped you into the truck, his touch was firm, and you leaned against him, inhaling the potent blend of whiskey and his cologne. The city lights outside blurred, a streak of neon against the dark sky, but Jamie abruptly pulled over to a quiet, secluded road.

“Jamie, where are we going?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Jamie’s gaze was intense, a smoldering look that seemed to pierce through the fog of your mind. “I just wanted to be alone with you,” he murmured, his voice low and slightly slurred. His fingers traced your jawline, his touch both tender and possessive.

The air in the truck was thick with anticipation, charged with an electric tension that you couldn’t ignore. Jamie leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “You’re so incredibly beautiful. I’ve been wanting you for so long.”

A shiver cascaded down your spine at his words, a confusing mix of desire and trepidation swirling within you. The whiskey had softened your inhibitions, making you feel exposed and vulnerable.

His words were like a seductive caress, stirring a deep, unsettling need. “Jamie, I can't,” you began to say, but his lips silenced you, capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss.

His lips were rough, demanding, and they moved with an intensity that set your senses alight. His hands roamed over your body, finding the buttons of your blouse with a hunger that made your heart race. he's messaging your boobs you slowly moan because it feels so good.

The kiss deepened, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passionate urgency. His hands were warm but rough, the contrast of his touch creating a mix of discomfort and electric thrill.

You felt a rising heat as he tugged at your blouse, the fabric yielding under his insistent fingers. “Just this once,” he murmured between kisses, his breath hot and ragged. “It’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted, I promise.”

A part of you wanted to resist, but the intoxicating mix of his touch and your own growing desire blurred your judgment. You felt a strange, almost reckless surrender, your boundaries melting away in the intensity of the moment.

"Stop, I-I can't," you said

"I promise, it will feel good, baby," he said

Jamie’s fingers moved with a deliberate skill, teasing and exploring your most sensitive spots. You gasped as his touch sent jolts of pleasure through your body, making your head swim with a mix of desire and confusion. The whiskey's lingering warmth mingled with the heat rising within you, clouding your ability to think clearly.

His other hand slid down your back, pulling you closer until you were almost on his lap. The friction between your bodies only intensified the sensations coursing through you. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, a hard, undeniable reminder of his desire.

“Jamie,” you breathed, your voice a mix of protest and longing. “I shouldn’t—”

But your words were cut off as his fingers found their mark, pressing and circling with just the right pressure. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction. A moan escaped your lips, unbidden and undeniable.

“Just let go,” he whispered, his voice husky with need. “I’ve got you.”

His mouth found yours again, the kiss deepening as he continued to work you with his fingers. Your body responded eagerly, every nerve ending on fire. You clung to him, your hands fisting in his shirt as you surrendered to the sensations overwhelming you.

With a deftness born of experience, he slipped your blouse off your shoulders, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. Your skin tingled where he touched, each kiss sending a wave of heat through you.

His hands moved to your breasts, kneading and teasing, his mouth following close behind. The contrast of his rough fingers and the softness of his lips was intoxicating, making you arch into his touch. You could feel the last vestiges of your resistance crumbling, your body aching.

“Jamie,” you whispered, your voice a mix of wanting for more but you are scared, “Please, stop…”

His eyes darkened and he wasted no time in shedding his own clothes. The sight of him, bare and ready, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He reached for you, pulling you close until you were both lying back on the seat, your bodies entwined.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Jamie, please,” you begged, a note of panic creeping into your voice as his grip tightened and his movements became rougher. The initial pleasure was swiftly giving way to pain, each thrust sending shockwaves of discomfort through your body.

“Stop, Jamie, it hurts,” you pleaded, trying to push him away. But he was too strong, his body a heavy weight pinning you down. His eyes, glazed over with alcohol and desire, didn’t seem to register your distress. Instead, his anger flared, his thrusts becoming more forceful and unrelenting.

Tears streamed down your face as you cried out in pain, your voice breaking with each sob. “Please, stop! Jamie, please stop!” you screamed, your hands frantically pushing against his chest, but it was no use. He was lost to his own needs, driven by the alcohol coursing through his veins.

You felt a deep, pervasive sense of violation, your body and spirit shattering with each brutal movement. Desperation clawed at your insides as you prayed for an end to the torment. “God, please make him stop,” you whispered through your tears, your voice a broken, helpless plea.

But Jamie didn’t stop. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. The pain was overwhelming, each thrust tearing through you, leaving you feeling dirty and used. Your cries for mercy fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the sound of his ragged breathing and the cruel rhythm of his assault.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly, every second an eternity of agony and despair. You felt yourself slipping into a numb, distant place, a coping mechanism to survive the relentless onslaught. Your body became a vessel of pain, your mind retreating to a place where the hurt couldn’t reach you.

Finally, with a shuddering groan, Jamie reached his climax, his body stilling as he released himself inside you. The moment he pulled out and rolled away, you curled into a ball, your body shaking with sobs. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional devastation, the sense of betrayal and violation that coursed through you.

Jamie lay beside you, panting and spent, seemingly oblivious to the trauma he had inflicted. His eyes slowly cleared as the effects of the alcohol began to wear off, but the damage was already done. You felt hollow, your trust shattered, your sense of self irreparably damaged.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Jamie mumbled, his voice thick with regret as he reached out to touch you. You flinched violently, recoiling from his touch as if it burned.

"Get away from me!" you screamed, your voice raw with pain and anger. You felt so dirty, so violated, your mind reeling from the horror of what had just happened. You wanted to disappear, to vanish from the world and escape the unbearable weight of your trauma.

Jamie pulled back, his eyes wide with shock and guilt. "I didn't mean to... I was drunk... I—" His words were a pathetic jumble of excuses, falling on deaf ears.

"Just shut up," you spat, your voice trembling with rage. "Just shut up and take me back to town. I can't be here with you. I can't even look at you."

He nodded mutely, too ashamed to argue. As he started the truck, you pulled your clothes back on with shaking hands, each movement a reminder of the violation you'd endured. The drive back was silent, the air thick with a tension that neither of you dared to break.

When the truck finally came to a stop near the outskirts of town, you didn't wait for it to fully halt before you opened the door and stumbled out. "I can walk from here," you said coldly, not looking back. "I don't want to see you ever again."

Jamie opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. He simply nodded, the look of regret and sorrow etched on his face as you slammed the door shut and started walking away.

As you walked, each step felt like an eternity, your mind a whirlwind of pain and confusion. You couldn’t go home, not like this. The thought of facing your family in your current state was unbearable. Instead, you turned your steps towards Ellie’s house. She was the only one who would understand, the only one you could trust to hold you through this nightmare.

You stumbled up the porch steps, your vision blurred by tears, your makeup smeared and your hair a tangled mess. Your dress was wrinkled and torn, a stark reminder of what had happened. You knocked on the door, hugging yourself tightly in a futile attempt to keep warm, to feel safe.

When the door opened, it wasn’t Ellie who stood there. It was Joel. You looked up at him, your eyes wide and filled with tears, your breath hitching in your chest.

Joel's eyes widened in shock and concern as he took in your disheveled appearance. "What happened?" he asked urgently, his voice trembling with worry. "What’s going on? Are you hurt?" Ellie wasn’t home; she was staying at a friend's house for the night.

The sight of him brought a fresh wave of tears, and you couldn't hold back the sobs any longer. You collapsed to the ground, your body shaking with the force of your cries. The world around you blurred into an indistinguishable mess of pain and despair.

Joel was beside you in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he whispered, his voice breaking as he held you. "You're safe now. I've got you."

As he held you, his heart raced, a sense of urgency fueling his every movement. He noticed the blood seeping through your legs, and panic gripped him. There was a raw, protective anger in his eyes, one that he usually kept buried deep beneath his calm exterior.

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. "Joel," you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper. "He hurt me. He wouldn’t stop. I begged him, but he wouldn’t stop."

Joel’s body went rigid, his jaw clenching as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Who hurt you?" he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and sorrow.

"Jamie," you sobbed, the name tasting bitter on your tongue. "I told him to stop, but he wouldn't listen."

The silence that followed your confession was thick with tension. Joel’s face darkened, his eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness that made you feel a flicker of safety amidst your despair. He took a deep breath, clearly fighting to keep his anger in check.

"Come on, let's get you inside," he said softly, helping you to your feet. His touch was gentle, but you could feel the barely restrained fury simmering beneath his calm exterior.

He led you into the living room, where the soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light on the room, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you felt inside. Joel carefully sat you down on the couch. He needed to clean you up. The sight of your blood-soaked dress made his heart ache with a mix of sorrow and rage.

Joel disappeared for a moment, returning with a blanket and a cup of tea. He wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, his touch tender and reassuring, then handed you the tea.

"Here, drink this," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "It’ll help."

You took the cup with trembling hands, the warmth seeping into your skin, offering a small measure of comfort. Joel sat beside you, his presence a solid anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You don’t have to talk about it right now," he said quietly, his voice steady but filled with sorrow. "But I’m here to listen whenever you’re ready."

You looked at him, the tears still streaming down your face. "I feel so dirty," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I didn't want this. I didn’t want any of it."

Joel's face softened, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and fierce protectiveness. "You're not dirty," he said firmly, his voice filled with conviction. "Baby, it's not your fault."

The sincerity in his voice broke something loose inside you, and you sobbed harder, your body shaking with the force of your grief. Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you cried. “We’ll get through this,” he promised, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. For the first time in a while, Joel opened his heart, letting his walls down to show you his unwavering support.

He held you for what felt like hours, his embrace a cocoon of safety and warmth. The tears seemed endless, each one carrying a fragment of your shattered soul. But Joel remained steadfast, his presence a constant reassurance that you were not alone in your suffering.

As he held you, Joel's thoughts churned with a mix of emotions. He was a man of few words, accustomed to keeping his feelings locked away, buried deep beneath a hardened exterior. But seeing you like this, broken and vulnerable, stirred something dark and primal within him.

It reminded him of his own past, the pain and loss that had shaped him into the man he was today. The memories of Sarah, his daughter, flashed through his mind – the way he had failed to protect her, the helplessness and rage that had consumed him. He had vowed never to let himself feel that kind of pain again, to never let anyone get close enough to hurt him.

Yet here he was, holding you, feeling an overwhelming need to protect you, to shield you from the world’s cruelty. The thought of Jamie, the man who had done this to you, ignited a fierce, burning anger within him. Joel's grip tightened around you, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

He would make Jamie pay for what he had done. There was a darkness inside Joel, a ruthless side that he rarely let see the light of day. But for you, he would unleash it. He would ensure that Jamie never hurt you – or anyone else – again. The thought of revenge, of justice, gave him a grim sense of purpose, a way to channel the turmoil inside him.

Joel's mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He was deeply troubled by the sight of you in such pain, and his protective instincts surged to the forefront. He knew he had to keep himself under control, to focus on helping you heal. But the thought of Jamie’s actions ignited a cold, calculated fury within him.

[stargirlfics]

So Much Goddamn Talkin’

Joel Miller x Black F!Reader

Summary: Sometimes Joel has to quiet the noise in your head. Luckily he’s quite good at that.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, post outbreak—Jackson era, mutual pining, friends to lovers vibe, established relationship, some mentions of anxiety, feelings and fluff, competency kink, soft dom!joel vibes, smut: oral (both receiving), fingering, soft intense PiV, unprotected sex, praise kink, daddy kink, come marking

*reader is written and described as black but anyone is welcome and encouraged to read!

Word Count: 6k

Currently obsessed with the thought of older, domestic Joel in a relationship and couldn’t stop myself from getting carried away! Enjoy!

It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d ever spoken to Joel.

On the contrary, what had started as a timid friendship became something else entirely with one spontaneous kiss that only the stars bore witness to that night. 

A silly dream of romance had landed right in your lap despite the crumbling of the old world behind you, taking everything with it and yet they took your breath away constantly, like a whirlwind, two grounding anchors were now tethered to your heart and their names were Joel and Ellie. 

So why were you so nervous? 

Sighing softly, you decided to blame it on the watchful glances Joel was giving you from across the yard, distracting you from the book you were reading. Eye contact with him could feel like the most searing heat, spreading like wildfire and at the same time the deepest depths of comfort. 

Not always being a man of many words, the things he could express with a simple look or the weight of a hand fascinated you, made you fall so dangerously hard and with a certainty you’d never felt before. 

Therefore you reasoned it simply couldn’t be your fault for being distracted and wanting him so much right now. Not when he made you feel this way without even having to try very hard. 

You just needed to take a moment to soak it all in, a blooming hope carried in on the breeze now that it was the beginning of spring in Jackson, the wildflowers and planted seeds starting to sprout, and the soil and your own souls teeming with life after so long spent just surviving. Now there was space for healing. 

Space for you to sit in the rocking chair Joel had worked on for months as a birthday present to you, or watch him get around to all the house projects (because once a contractor always a contractor) and strum out the prettiest chords on his guitar late in the evenings out on the porch. 

This felt more like living and you never wasted a moment to covet it. 

“You’re doing an awful lot of staring, Miller.” You looked up from the same page for the fifth time to catch him already looking your way. 

He blinked and put another nail into the wood post he was working on. 

“Hm, well damn right I am when you look the way you do. Now if I told you it’s been at least ten minutes since you’ve turned a page in that book you just might have to admit you’ve been starin’ too.” 

There was that little smirk you knew so well, dancing on his lips as if he knew just how much it would drive you crazy, the confirmation that you hadn’t been subtle in the slightest either. 

“Well, you’re out here giving me a show.” You make a point to turn to the next page then, looking away before he could throw you a look at the sass in your tone. 

He was right of course but what he didn’t know was that reading had started all this to begin with. 

The tattered novel had been a surprise find on a patrol one day and came with an unexpected eroticism, bits of dialogue and tantalizing imagery on the page you were stuck on making your mind wander and wonder. 

It’s why you felt a little nervous, caught off guard, suddenly wishing you were in bed and underneath him. 

He flashes his teeth at you, that smirk widening into a smile at your reply, his attention returning to the tools in his hands but your own continued to linger. Remembering. 

A few nights before in particular, when he was fucking into you so deep you had to bite the sheets to keep your moans down. You could still picture the definition of his arms as they cradled you and kept the headboard from colliding into the wall at the same time. 

Or how good you knew it felt when his broad palms swat across your ass, never failing to make you yield to him with such eagerness. 

You wished you could have your hands on him now, petting, feeling, showing him how much he was desired and cared for, how much you wanted to be filled by him, stretched out and aching with nothing but his name in your mind and on the tip of your tongue for hours.

Those stray thoughts had you turning back a page, leaning into the slow burning fire lit underneath you. 

Still unsure of how to initiate these desires, you didn’t want to distract him from something he’d been trying to get around to doing for awhile and at the same time felt a thrill at the idea of tugging him away, leading him to bed. 

With some hesitation you decided to bide your time for a bit longer, getting caught up in words that made you squirm imagining Joel doing and saying them. 

God, you weren’t sure how much more of this you could keep up, feeling the slick pooling of arousal between your thighs, the way you wanted to grind against nothing already. 

Joel finished repairing the post in no time and moved on to patch up a hole in the wall of the old shed, unaware of your internal dilemma. 

Eventually he gathered up his tools and stored them away, told you he was gonna head in and wash up but that you should keep relaxing out here for as long as you wanted and he’d get started on preparing things for dinner later. 

He left you with a kiss to your temple and the lingering familiarity of his touch. Handsome and sweet, he was going to be the death of you. 

Your mind felt too restless to keep sitting but you took him up on the suggestion just for awhile longer, trying to find the right way to move things in the direction you wanted. Family dinner wasn’t for another four hours and Ellie would be here a bit early but there was still time and you wanted to make the most of it. 

So you finished off another chapter and finally closed the novel, ushered inside with the echo of birdsongs and the steady thumping of your heart in your ribs. 

–

Joel had been so sure you hadn’t noticed his repeated stares as much as he’d noticed yours, bowing his head under the warm spray of the shower he could only think of how pretty you looked sitting there while he worked, fond of the fact that you liked to be next to him even if he was occupied.  

At first he couldn’t wrap his head around it and was almost too unnerved and bewildered by the fact that you took such an interest. 

Not at all used to someone touching him or looking at him like he was their entire world but that’s the only way you looked at him and as much as he had tried to be measured, tried not to get attached, he had come around to the idea of a relationship again. 

Loving people was frightening, something he felt he’d lost the ability to do properly after all these years, all the blood staining his hands and his conscience.

He had lost so much, seen too much death and feared he would only bring ruin, that he would lose her too, until you came along and turned everything he thought he knew on its head. 

Oh what secrets and stories of loss he had told you in the quiet of night, when old nightmares and new guilts collided and kept him from sleeping though that was much less these days now that you slept by his side every night. 

It had been a long time since he’d shared his bed and now it made him smile thinking of how natural it felt to wake up next to you, how easy it was to be around you, in the quiet moments he could see how the foundations you’d both built together had been made solid and steadfast over time. 

Silly to think how he fretted over ruining his friendship with you all that time ago, the way everyone was sick of him in the days leading up to when he would finally ask if you were interested because they all knew he had nothing to worry about and those worries in his head were swiftly put to rest when you tugged at his shirt to pull him closer and asked what had taken him so long.

He’d never forget that moment. 

Joel thought then that this was the moment he knew but quickly learned there would actually be a collection of moments–several times a day–that would remind him just how hooked on you he really was.

Like the times he showed his age and your sweet giggles and clever retorts always followed soon after, or how much he’s come to love the summertime because your brown skin basked in the sunlight is like art to him and he relishes every chance he gets to see you exactly as you are.

You brought a fullness and meaning to life here, encouraging him to slow down, to breathe. Taking care of one another made him stronger, nourished in ways he didn’t think were possible.  

“Honey.”

He grits the word out like he’s trying to call you up here, reminded of how lucky he felt to have you, to be so connected.

Watching you walk around batting your eyes acting like you don’t know that it’s the pretty, round edges of your nose, the smile lines, the plush of your hips and that glowing thing inside you beating in your chest that drives him crazy. 

Simply put, he was impressed by you. Constantly. You could handle yourself, skilled in your own right, already handy with weapons long before he was in your life and even more proficient now, deadly, with the things he’d taught you since. 

You were resourceful and calm in tricky situations or when quick medical training was needed and yet none of the carnage of infected and worse terrors ever changed the soft way you tended to people, almost like you couldn’t help but give a little extra love. 

And you had certainly spared many an ounce of that love for him; he’d forgotten how good it felt to smile this much over someone, can’t remember the last time he felt this way and definitely can’t remember the last time he’s seen his Ellie look at someone with such admiration either. 

Everything about you captured his attention and he was grateful to be able to live some sort of life again after so much heartache, after believing he could never have these kinds of things for himself. 

Those hands of his could scorch the Earth but you made him understand they could build things too, could show love and give pleasure just as well and just as fiercely. 

Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he was doing a good job of it. 

All he knew was that he never wanted to let you go and that was enough for him. 

–

When you venture into the bedroom you find him getting dressed, hair tousled from being towel dried, another wave of aching bloomed in your core as you thank yourself for having nudged him into letting it grow out a bit during the colder months. 

He looked so handsome doing nothing at all in particular you were sure you’d implode if you didn’t just come out with it, you just hope he wouldn’t mind doing some undressing again. 

“Hey, honey.” 

His voice was low and gentle, the familiar pet name in his usual smooth rasp made you stride forward, sending you surging into his arms so that you were squished against his chest. He tilted his head at you just slightly in question before you were pressing your lips to his.

Your mouths met so tenderly at first, fingertips bursting with a nervous energy as they reached for his shirt, grasping needily as you lost yourself in the slow ease of the way he kissed you back.

But a little spark of anxiety makes you tense, overthinking the kiss, feeling a little silly for just how turned on you were, how much he could see it written all over you, dripping quite literally in desperation even if you tried to reason with yourself that you knew there wasn’t anything wrong with that. 

“J-Joel…shit,” you whined and huffed through sloppy kisses, slowly finding yourself being walked backwards and held firm against the closest wall, “Oh…we don’t have to do this if-” 

“The hell are you goin’ on about?” Joel grumbled against the column of your neck and all ability to articulate went out the window.

Rationally you knew it was a pretty good indication he wasn’t bothered by the spontaneity from the way those strong hands of his were already underneath your shirt, pinching almost in the haste to grip your flesh but you were already overthinking and it held persistent. 

“Just…if you’re tired, I understand. We can wait till tonight. I don’t want you to feel obligated.” Your words were huffed out in nervous gasps, trying to will your knees not buckle when his scruff teased a swipe across your jaw. 

Joel pulled back then so you’d have to look at him, knowing the anxious flit of your lashes well. 

He knew what to watch for, patient when you needed reassurance that you were free to run wild with your desires, that he was never tired of having you bare and wrapped around him at any hour of the day but this was of no consequence, he’d make sure you knew where he stood.

Shaking his head, he doesn’t give you more than a moment to suck in a breath before his hands leave your waist to hold your face. 

“So much goddamn talkin’, sweetheart,” the words are a heavy growl against your lips in between heavier kisses, “Think I need to remind you of some things and put those thoughts out of your mind, yeah?” 

Your whole body felt hot, flushed with desire and aching for whatever he was going to do to remind you, nodding before your tongue could catch up with your agreeing thoughts. 

“Let me show you.” Joel caged you in against the wall, broad shoulders blocking everything else out. 

The steady rise and fall of his chest became your focal point and new arousal sparked at his attentiveness, so easily able to soothe, to make you unravel for him. 

“Please, I want you so much.” Your softly sighed plea turned into a whine when you were crushed to his chest again and this time there were no reservations to the embrace.

He was so good at this, making you burn for him so often you wondered sometimes how you were able to get anything done.

Hungry fingers pushed the collar of his flannel back, jeans already unbuttoned for your wandering attention to latch onto and he encouraged it with a push of his hips against yours. 

It’s an easy movement, dropping to your knees like you’ve done a hundred times before to see how just a simple kiss already had him stiff and straining against denim, teasing the kind of thickness you so badly wanted to fill your throat with. 

Your mouth watered, fingers outstretched to wrap around hot skin the moment his cock was free, unable to stop yourself now. Joel’s rough sigh following the steady pump of your hands made you glance up, meeting the intensity of his gaze and you held it there for a moment before your tongue was tasting him. 

“Look at you...already have it in your mouth like the quick learner you are,” He hissed through his teeth and you could feel where he throbs against the hollow of your cheek. 

Pride swells in your chest from the praise, knowing the tone of his voice meant the restrained edge of patience from letting you tease him back was slipping.

You could feel it in the flex of muscle underneath your hands where they’re braced on his thighs and you hoped he was proud watching your lips stretch around him, head bobbing nice and easy the way you know he liked it.

You’re unconcerned with being neat about it, slicking him up with your mouth and still trying to take him deeper, trying to take all of him in fact. 

You liked to flirt with dreams of your nose being pressed snug against Joel’s pelvis, wanted to feel him through your entire chest even if burned because there was sweetness in being deprived of oxygen like that. Call it an unwavering trust. 

You gave in to the feeling and kept your eyes focused upwards on him, trying to relax your jaw despite all the anticipation, happy to let him take control. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl. Stay just like that.” 

Listening is hardly even a thought when you’ve hung onto his every word, every movement, not minding the strain in your jaw as he rocked his hips into the wet heat of your mouth. Tongue swirling over his shaft, the thick head of him, desperate to earn it, to make him curse and growl out your name. 

The pressure of his fingers against your jaw and then the back of your head had you moaning, trying to speak while he fucks your mouth. 

“P-please, make me take it.” Your heart lept with each languid thrust of his hips sliding deep so he could feel the softening of your throat.

He’d give you whatever you asked for when you whimpered like that. 

Firm and sweet was his grip, raspy grunts and cursed out praises that flowed from his mouth even sweeter to your ears as your tongue slid over the soft, sensitive head of his cock and back down the length of him. 

You’re insatiable and any anxious thoughts still rattling around in your mind were quickly fading, replaced with his touch, his smell, his taste. The salty smear on your taste buds had you pressing your thighs together, craving relief.

“Good girl, yeah that’s it. Startin’ to understand now, sweetheart?” 

Your head tipped forward and the only response you could give was a heady moan, doing your best to nod knowing how much he’d like seeing that, the tears already welling along your lashes from the effort but you didn’t mind.

Knowing you made him tip his head back, a heavy palm braced against the wall above your head while he grunted out curses and filthier praise made you feel a dozen more times ravenous, encouraging him to keep going with sloppy, wet whimpers that were barely held back from your kiss swollen lips, stretched over every thick inch of him you could take. 

“Love watching you choke on it, honey. Fuck that's good, show me how much you can fit.” 

The sight of him is something you hoped to never forget, searching for and finding the slight snarl of his lips when the tip hits the back of your mouth and the flex of his biceps when you slide your tongue around to lick the underside of him. 

Joel could barely hold himself back, the urge to bury himself in your throat almost overwhelming but he wanted more than that, he wanted to reward you for listening so well, for how much you make him feel.  

It had been building all day and he knew you had to feel it too. He was loath to pull you off his cock, an ache through his chest at your desperate cries from the loss of contact but he was quick to remedy that with a searing kiss.  

You melt and are grateful your knees are already on the floor when your tongue meets his. It was so messy, hungry and neither of you cared. 

“Get on the bed. Go on, darlin’.” Joel’s voice sounded like warm syrup, covering you in adoring instruction, taking you and leading you where he knows is best. 

And god do you love when he was in this mood, nothing but a filthy edge to his affections. 

So you complied, ignoring the twinge in your tummy as you moved to the bed, sprawling out across sheets that smell like the both of you. 

He watches you get comfortable, loosening a few buttons and those jeans finally discarded on the floor before the distance is closed and he’s all over you. 

Every touch and caress was intentional as he undresses like he’s unwrapping a present, greedy for all of you but so passionate, so easily able to steal your breath at the same time, slowing down the tempo now that your legs have fallen open and there’s nothing left covering you. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy…and she’s all mine.” Joel admires you for a moment, firm hands tickling your thighs while his thumbs circled the soft, sensitive junction of your thigh so close to where you wanted him most. 

The praise has you sighing breathlessly, peeking down to see the way he was looking at where you glisten, a sureness to his features that made you feel safe all while the clench of his jaw sent goosebumps across your arms.

You want to echo that he’s right but he doesn’t let you have the chance, a broad palm sliding down over the hair covering your mound, tugging at it gently before two thick fingers are swirling over your folds. 

Muscles jolting, you were rocking up into a touch that is so expert and familiar you are helpless against it.

“Joel, oh! That feels so good,” You’re panting, trying to catch your breath while your body responds to the tight circles he was rubbing against your clit.

“Yeah? ‘Can tell. You’re so slick, honey. Did suckin’ me off get you this worked up?” 

Your nod is pure reflex, hips grinding against his movements needing to chase the pleasure that was slowly oozing its way into your system. 

It’s only something he can do and he’s so steady, so thorough with you even as you squirm, those two fingers now stroking at your entrance eliciting sounds that sparked heat in your cheeks and spread down to your chest. 

You want to be as connected to him as you can, almost pleading for him to sink inside you already just desperate to feel completely surrounded by him. 

And Joel can’t seem to grasp enough of you under his hands, gone for the way you cling to him as he fits his middle finger inside, marveling at the way your walls take him in. 

He would never get over your strangled little cry at being stretched around his knuckles. 

“I asked a question, lemme hear you.” He spoke a little more loosely, his Texan drawl slightly heavier now. 

“Yes, yes,” you’re remembering yourself after a moment, “Fuck, yes I love sucking your dick.” 

The words are shameless, falling from your lips as a promise, a proclamation that you know he feels the weight of when he leans in to kiss you again, muffling your sounds while he slides a second finger in alongside the first that’s filling you so perfectly. 

Any concept of time or day is somewhere in the background muted, far away and suddenly you know you’re right where you should be, right where you belong, no traces of anxious thoughts lurking any longer.   

You could sink into these sensations now, enjoying how his kisses had moved to your neck exploring the sensitive spots and smiling against your skin when a new one is found because he loves feeling you clench around him when he does. 

It’s a gift to Joel, being able to draw out this kind of bliss in you. 

He wanted you to feel good, wanted to be the one to make your world shatter and then piece it back together again when you came down to the ground. 

Your eyes rolled shut when he plunged deeper, the pads of his fingers massaging at your walls in tandem with what his mouth was doing between the valley of your chest and further down to where your stomach fluttered. 

Somewhere in the haze of it all you realize his mouth was at your thighs, the white hot touch of his lips closing around a stretch of supple flesh bringing another wave of heat before he’s licking gently, bruising a mark into your skin that only he will know is there later. 

“I could spend hours like this, you know that? Could have you makin’ such a pretty mess all over my hands, all over our bed…and I know you love when I do this.” Joel husks before he’s finally tasting you properly. 

He starts at your clit, tongue flattened against you in anticipation of the inevitable flex of your legs, determined to keep you right where he wants and you’re already so far gone for him and this moment that your head tilts back against the pillows in a gasp. 

You feel almost weightless as you succumb to the pleasure and how he presses his mouth into your pussy like he wants to devour it. You’re sure you’d let him swallow you whole if it kept feeling like this. 

It’s not even a question really, you know you would, until you’re between sinew and bone and part of him forever. 

The plunge and curl of his fingers combined with the flick of his tongue had you panting, heat skittering across your body while your hips circled on their own accord.

“More! Please, Joel!” It’s a chant and a sob all rolled in one and you don’t care how needy it sounds. 

He keeps going, lapping at your sex greedily until you’re clenching down around his fingers and your toes are curling, crying out for him not to stop as you hurtle towards the cliff’s edge.

Skin dewy and alive, you decide that you don’t want to spare anything, not when he’s watching you as hungrily as he eats. 

You give him all your sounds, all your pleas, handing him your body and your heart at once. 

It’s amazing how it doesn’t take long for him to have you so close, right at the precipice, forgoing his own breaths to keep pace, to give you what your body is singing out for and when you finally let go, when your orgasm is finally coaxed from you he only presses his face into you further, drawing out every bit of pleasure he could in hopes of seeing that soft sweet look in your eyes afterwards.

“Attagirl, doin so well.” The words are a tether. 

He’d take care of you and that’s perhaps what made it so easy to surrender yourself to the passion of the moment knowing it would linger long after you were both spent. 

“Mmm you should see yourself right now,” Joel hummed, licking his lips while you attempted to catch your breath, “I always want you, don’t forget that yeah?” 

The last part catches your attention through the curtain of bliss, a serious shift in his tone telling you that he meant every word; you had no reason to second guess yourself over your desires and he was making sure of that. 

You nodded and sat up to reach for him, nevermind how you still trembled, your desire to be close to him was stronger than ever now. 

“I need you, Joel! Please, I’ve been so good…” Your words tug at him, you can tell they do by the way he ruts his hips against the edge of the bed. 

He crushed his mouth to yours before you could finish speaking, a much welcome relief, the burning flame inside you quelled for a moment. 

“Sure have been, honey and I think good girls should be rewarded.” He nipped at your ear, stealing your breath with his words. 

And even further when his flannel joined his jeans on the floor, climbing back onto the bed to follow the path of your body with his own, framing your limbs and wrapping you up in his embrace like you were made to fit against his chest. 

Your legs fall open again to wrap around his waist as he settles some of his weight down against your hips, just giving you a taste, calling back memories and reminding you, funnily enough, of that novel you were reading earlier. 

It felt like you were suddenly amongst the pages, chest heaving, your core tender and dripping as the man of your dreams was about to show you how much you’re his in every way.

Fairytales didn’t exist in this world but you felt like you were in one right now.

A giddy and timid smile spread across your face when Joel trailed warm hands down your body, catching on the bend of your elbow, wrapping around your ribcage to settle on the crest of your ass as he puts more of his weight down and uses his shoulders to nudge your legs apart and back towards your chest. 

The air felt thicker but your breathing seemed to even out, everything in your body thrumming with energy and an intensity neither of you could ignore any longer. 

Reaching down between your bodies you wrap a hand around where he’s thick and throbbing, guiding him closer with a soft smile, feeling how heavy he hangs in your hand, fingers pinching his skin when he rocks against your folds, the dirty sounds of his cock gliding through your stickiness. 

Joel groans against your forehead, holding himself steady as your hips buck into his touch, the tip pressing against your entrance and finally, slowly, sinking inside. 

Your moans are twined together in the quiet room. The stretch makes you keen, hands fumbling and grasping at strong shoulders, grateful he lets you have a moment to adjust. 

But it’s not long before you’re squirming again, whining for him to go deeper, to fill you to the hilt and he made good on his promises to do exactly that. 

He keeps your hips tilted up with the press of his palm underneath you, meeting little resistance the more he splits you open and it does something to him to see how much of a mess you are and he’s barely fucked you yet. 

“You can do it, know you can…there you go.” Joel pulls back to give a shallow thrust, lips brushing your temple and a hand coming up to cradle your cheek. 

The drag of his cock against your walls was everything, steady thrusts building up the tension coiling in your belly, fantasies from your novel melding with reality.

You felt like you were floating, your toes pointing when he changed the angle, brushing against a spot that had you crying out, ankles trying to lock around his torso.

Pressing heavier and faster with his hips however, your legs stay spread, the beginnings of a tremble rippling through your muscles now that he’s caught on. 

His pace remained measured and deep, just the way you were begging for it, and he’s content to watch your brows pinch, your jaw slacken, content to hear every gasp of air and pretty sobs  mixed in with your moans driving him crazy every time they slip from clenched teeth. 

“Shit, I love watching you take me like this.” He cooed. 

You can feel the heavy slap of his balls colliding with your ass when he pounds into you again and soon your hands slip from sweaty skin, scratching down his chest to pull at the sheets, so overwhelmed with feeling but never wanting it to stop.

“Daddy...Please, please keep going.”

You’re so caught up in the moment you don’t realize you’ve said it out loud, glassy eyes moving up from where you were trying to peek between your bodies to meet Joel’s careful gaze, only half registering how they widen for a moment. 

He’s taken aback for just a second, almost questioning whether he heard it correctly but something’s been knocked loose within him now, his cock twitching from the reverence and adoration in your tone, bestowing him with a title he suddenly wanted to earn. 

Joel was a grown man and had lived through many hells to be able to have you bare and underneath him like this, he reasoned he deserved to have a little fun in the bedroom especially when he hadn’t expected to be so affected.

“Ah so that’s what you’ve been reading in that book of yours. Just wanted Daddy to fuck you all day is that it, sweetheart? Yeah, I gotcha now.” He rasped low against the crook of your neck and started to fuck you harder. 

His grip on you was less gentle but still just as passionate, the force of his thrusts stealing your ability to think properly. He wanted to make you say it again. 

The burning in your cheeks only subsided a little at his acceptance, more heat flooding you from head to toe at being called out, wondering how he knew it was something you read in your novel, if it had been that obvious. 

It didn’t matter now, you see where his dark eyes have narrowed, ready to make you come again with this newfound discovery. 

So you try and be good for him while you moan and clench down on his length, your pussy swollen and aching but tingling for everything he could give you, “Yes, daddy! Just…oh! I couldn’t help it. Thank you, daddy!” 

He knows you’re close, a familiar frenzy to your breathing, the slick wet sounds between your legs, it’s everything he dreams of and more, torn between watching your face as you come or watching the way his cock shines with your release. 

With a few more strokes and the soft rubbing of his thumb against your clit you shatter, face pressing against the meat of his shoulder while you ride it out, feeling weightless in his embrace. 

It makes you giggle when you can’t keep your head up any longer, neck lolling back against the pillow where he cradles your head in his hands, keeping you in place as he finds his own release swiftly after yours, pulling out to cover your puffy folds in hot ropes of his come. 

You would never tire of being made a mess, even if you knew you’d be sore tomorrow, nothing quite ever beat the feeling of being fucked out like the way Joel could have you.

“Baby…” you’re breathless and bursting with emotion, “Thank you for that. Think I really needed it,” You laugh against his chest and sigh.

You’re almost too nervous still to look at him after your slip of the tongue but you know deep down there’s nothing you have to be worried about. 

“Of course, honey. Anytime, and I mean that.” 

–

You’re not sure how much time has passed, drifting in and out of a dreamy slumber still cradled against Joel, only now you realize you’ve been cleaned up and tucked under the covers but you don’t mind, you know you can simply lay here and soak it all in, he would take care of you. 

Racing thoughts no longer buzz around in your head, all you can feel and see is Joel and you smile to yourself knowing the intimacy you just shared still lingered in your body, love etched in your fingertips where they’re laced in his hand against his stomach. 

His lips press against your temple and you close your eyes again letting yourself be swept away with the sweet drawl of an “I love you.” in your ears and the gentle evening sun warming you both.

—

A/N: This was actually lowkey inspired by that scene where Joel is leading Ellie, Henry and Sam down the street after they come out of the tunnels and Joel just shakes his head and goes “so much goddamn talkin’.’ while looking like an annoyed father because they’re all being too loud���got very hung up on that bit of dialogue and could not let it go so here we are!

Also hope I added the daddy kink bit here in tastefully, it’s a fave of mine and I struggled a bit to think of how to incorporate it in a way that felt real for Joel so I only just dipped my toe in with it here but I hope you liked it! 👀

Thank you for reading <3

some no pressure tags! 💫 @eupheme @ozarkthedog @moreofem @tinydramatist @black-fairy3 @federalchickensoup @fluffyprettykitty @persona-enthusiast @moonstruksandco @ghotifishreads @communism-bitches

[witchthewriter]

𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏 𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟑

⤷ gender neutral, Valyrian blood (dragon rider), and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I kinda personified this group of dragons more than I have with the others...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑

・You're actually apart of the royal family, your siblings already having bonded with either eggs from their crib or great beasts already living

・It felt embarrassing being the only one without a mount. It was true that not everyone in your family were dragonriders, but you didn't want to be anything but a dragonrider.

・You had heard stories of untrained dragons and with great bravery or stupidity, you went to find one

・Sheep Stealer and Grey Ghost have always stayed out of each other's ways. Not knowing what kind of dragon the other is (especially when the other wild dragon was a CANNIBAL)

・So neither Sheepstealer nor Grey Ghost stay in the Dragonpit

・With you, Sheepstealer is a lot more soft. It took time to build up that trust and reliance on one another.

・But once he realised that you weren't going to hurt or leave him, then the bond became one of the deepest ever seen

・When you're dreaming, it's as if you're in Sheep's head. Not controlling him, but seeing things from his eyes.

・And you can feel each other's emotions (like all dragon riders and their dragons) but it feels a lot deeper

・His favourite song would absolutely Sweet Carolina by Lana Del Rey. It would actually make him cry.

𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘 𝐆𝐇��𝐒𝐓

・Doesn't like to share food (not that you'd eat his food? Never once have you tried to either. But every time he's eating, he you're near - he frowns and grunts)

・He was just used to being independent and fighting for his food.

・It took a long time for him to warm up to you. Not liking human interactions

・Knows many, many good secret hide outs... you love hiding in them with him. You aren't a people person either

・Once bit a handler... on the butt. It sounds comedic, but there was blood everywhere and holes in the man's buttcheek.

・Your father had to spend a lot of money for the man to be healed.

・(Grey Ghost wasn't chastised, your father too thought it hilarious)

・No one is allowed near Ghost except for you, I'm talking even existing near him.

・He likes his personal space

・Ghost actually got a bit of colour once you spent more time flying. He turned a beautiful silver instead of a dull grey and had a bit of a glimmer to his scales

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐗

・A pyromaniac; likes to hear the command 'Dracarys' (it's the fastest one he responds to)

・Likes hitting you with his tail and when you turn around to look at him, he's obviously looking somewhere else - but his lil dragon laugh gives him away

・But you got used to it and remember to duck everytime your back is towards him

・Is very competitive, especially against Arrax, who is the closest in age to him

・Crushing on Morning; likes her pretty pink scales. You know this because he rolls in anything pink (especially pink flowers)

・Would love country music unironically.

・Gives Dennis the Menace vibes but he is acutely aware of the trouble he causes. Loves chaos.

・Likes to gently bite your shoulder when your attention isn't on him

・IS afraid of cats. Pretends he's not but once when he was a baby dragon, your pet kitten swiped at him and from then on he was terrified...

・Vermax loves being called a "beautiful boy," "handsome man," etc but DO NOT DO IT IN FRONT OF ANYONE, HE WILL GET EMBARRASSED.

𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐗

・Bit shy for a dragon, still courageous and honorable. But prefers to be away from ... everyone

・Does like Tyraxes though; they seem to have similar souls. Some say they could've come from the same clutch of eggs

・Definitely a Libra or Pisces.

・For a long time he was scared of getting into trouble. But you've been working on it ... constantly reminding him he's a goddamn dragon.

・When Arrax is happy, he makes a trilling noise and the red scales/flaps on his neck and head shimmy

・Vermax has made fun of him for it but Moondancer growled at Vermax (therefore he never made fun of him ever again)

・LoVES LAYING HIS HEAD IN YOUR LAP. A very affectionate dragon, loves pets, being brushed down, having his wings gently touched.

・It's safe to say his love language is physical touch

・It took some time for him to be a confident flyer. But once he took off, he never looked back.

𝐓𝐘𝐑𝐀𝐗𝐄𝐒

・A good boi, a very good boi. Does as he's told because his trust in you is unwavering

・When you look into his eyes, they almost seem ... human. They're a beautiful blue/green colour and seem to stare into your very soul

・You realised that at a young age, and swore to treat him exactly how you'd like to be treated

・Has youngest sibling energy (but the kind where the parents have a bunch of older children and for some reason have a baby in their 50s by accident)

・So technically youngest but basically grew up as an only child vibes

・...Loves baths. Like proper baths. You would bathe him as a little dragon. A tradition you and your mother started (because you, yourself hated bathing. So poor Tyraxes was subjected to it as well)

・Now that he's grown ... well ... the blacksmith had heavy pockets and no extra time on his hands for quite a while

・When the bath tub arrived just on the outskirts of the dragonpit, Tyraxes' tail wouldn't stop thumping. He knew exactly what it was for

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

・Aquarius asf

・Always pliant when it comes to be saddled up. Very good girl, you trained her yourself (or you were there for the majority of it)

・From a young age you found yourself talking to her as if she could understand you perfectly well. And now you still do it;

・She gives huffs and chuffs in response, smoke coming out of her nose when she heavily disagrees with something

・Knows about Vermax's crush on her but expects a lot of romantic gestures.

・She's also an Aquarius so they're pretty difficult to shack up with; their independence is highly important to them.

・Like a dog with bad experiences with men, Morning can sense when a person is trustworthy or not

・If they aren't ... SCORCHED. If they are ... UNSCORCHED.

・Literally takes it upon herself to administer justice

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑

・Quite calm in stressful situations

・Definitely more than you - not trying to be shady to you but Moondancer seems to know exactly what to do in like ... every situation?

・Nuzzles you with her nose

・Does adore when you clean her horns, I mean they're PEARLESCENT! (or chrome, however you want to see it)

・Absolutely adores music and will fly you to towns that are having festivals. (She's learned from experience that she can only fly over the top of the crowd and sit from afar...there have been some messy incidents in the past)

・Seems calm but is VERY overprotective of you. Will let you handle arguments until she can feel your heart racing and then she jumps in

・Likes adventure but not dangerous adventure. More so like finding pretty fields or lovely waterfalls.

[bookyeom]

pairing: vernon x reader word count: 3.7k warnings: angst (she did it y’all!!!!), swearing, kissing, wet!vernon

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary. Happy Birthday, Bononie!

kissing in swimming pools by holly humberstone

do you think we were made to last in the coldest of weather? maybe i don’t have to leave so soon you look heavenly in this shade of blue

Vernonie [8:48pm]: finally back from dinner

Vernonie [8:49pm]: everyone’s gone btw, so i’ll come get u now?

Y/N [8:51pm]: yeye! Just text when ur outside 

You hear his car before you see it. 

His parents must have kept his old, beat-up car from high school for when he came back for the summer, you muse, and it makes you smile. You’d spent a lot of time in that car, listening to whatever new indie band Vernon had “discovered” that week, or eating take-out in the department store parking lot after hours, or your personal favourite: with the engine shut off at the lookout Vernon had discovered on his way home from work one day, tucked away from most of the world as the two of you reclined in his car seats and looked at the night sky. 

You used to wonder if it was there that you fell in love with him, but the truth is that you loved him long before he showed up at your door at 1am, eyes wide with excitement over his new discovery, and brought you there in your pajamas. 

You still have the hoodie he’d leant you that night in the closet of your childhood bedroom.

Tonight, you shut the door quietly behind you out of habit, twisting the knob so it doesn’t make a sound. You’re long past the days of sneaking out, but your muscle memory won’t quit. 

It’s been eight months since you last saw Vernon. You only came home for two days at Christmas, claiming you couldn’t take that much time off from your part time job, and had managed to avoid him. You had still needed the space from him, then. December had only marked four months since he’d broken your heart, and you weren’t sure at the time if you’d ever be able to look him in the eye again. 

The months after Christmas break had finally begun to heal you. Your new semester had started, and you had decided to dive headfirst into both academic and social endeavors instead of wallowing away in your dorm room. You’d finally made new friends, your grades had improved, and while it still hurt to see his name when it popped up across your social media platforms, it wasn’t all you thought about anymore.

Right now, you kind of can’t wait to see him.

“Hi,” you say, breathless, and when Vernon meets your eyes, you know you’re not breathless because of the jog from your front door to his car. 

He looks good. His hair is a bit longer, curling at the ends and falling softly across his forehead, and you think his shoulders have filled out. His jaw is just as sharp, eyelashes just as long, and you immediately wonder how you’d gone so long without him. 

“Hi, stranger,” he says, and you’re terrified that the sound of his voice might tear you apart — but it doesn’t. You hold firm, despite the sound of your heartbeat roaring loud in your ears. It hurts, but it’s a dull ache instead of the sharp pain you’re used to. Seeing him sends a wave of relief through you instead of the dread you’d been half expecting, and you can feel the tension in your chest ease just the slightest bit. You can do this. Because it’s Vernon, and because life sucks without him. 

You stare at each other for a few moments, and then he raises an eyebrow as if in a challenge, and you can’t help it. You break into a smile, and then you’re surging across the middle console and pulling him in for a hug. He laughs against your neck, and you know he’s just as happy to see you as you are him. The hand that was on the steering wheel finds your back, and your eyes fall shut. 

“I missed you,” you say honestly, and you swear you can feel him exhale.

“Yeah,” he says before squeezing you tight, once. Brief, but enough for you to feel it, to understand, as he adds, “Me too.”

You pull back. Vernon puts the car into drive as you click on your seatbelt, and you fall into an easy, comfortable silence as he begins to make the familiar way back to his place. 

When you texted him a few weeks ago, your hands trembling but determined, you hadn’t been sure what he would say. You hadn’t spoken in months.

For a while, you didn’t think you’d ever get over the rejection of last August, but a year away at university had done you good. It was full of distractions; you’d even had a couple of flings here and there. Vernon had texted you a bit at first, because you’d insisted that you were fine, but it had hurt to see his name show up on your phone. You had responded slowly, using any and all excuses to explain away the days that passed without you answering. You’d texted sparingly throughout the year on birthdays and holidays, and you knew he watched your stories the same as you watched his. You knew he knew the real reason why you were distant, but he never pushed. After all, he’d broken your heart, not the other way around. 

Eventually, you had recognized that the distance was helping, and conversations between the two of you had become even more sparse after that. It had been hard — one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do — but you’d needed the space. So when his response to your text a few weeks ago had come quickly and enthusiastically, a Vernon-esque “bet :)” in response to your ask to hang out when you got home for the summer, you had been so relieved that you’d cried. Though you’d known he would never hate you, deep down a small part of you had still been afraid that you’d pushed him away for good.  

The silence in the car tonight is comfortable, and you’re grateful. Vernon is tapping in tune to the beat on his steering wheel while you hum along in quiet contentment. After a couple of songs that you recognize play in a row, you turn to him in surprise. 

“Is this the playlist I made you for your birthday two years ago?” 

Vernon simply nods, eyes on the road as he makes a turn. “Yeah.” 

“Oh.”

Vernon laughs. “Am I not supposed to listen to it?”

“Just surprised me, that’s all.”

”Okay, weirdo.” 

The conversation moves on, but you don’t forget about it, even as you pull up to Vernon’s childhood home. 

It looks almost exactly the same. You follow Vernon up the steps and to the front door, through the foyer and to the kitchen where you used to help his mom prep for their summer barbecues. He tosses you a bottle of water wordlessly before he’s slipping out the back door without warning, and you trail behind without question. His peculiar mannerisms don’t faze you, even after all this time apart, and that realization brings you a warm sort of comfort.

As soon as you step through the back door and into the warmth of the summer evening air again, you can’t help but smile. This, too, remains unchanged. The heated pool with its blue and white tiled sides; the metal table with its umbrella, a single tip bent out of shape so that it sags just in one small part; the overgrown trees whose leaves spill over the sides of the wooden fence. You’d spent many days and nights here, too. 

You join Vernon, who’s already sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs hung over the sides. 

“Damn, you didn’t waste any time, Sol.” The nickname falls out before you can stop it. It’s been so long since you’ve been around him, since you’ve even let yourself think of him as anything other than Vernon. If he notices your slip up, he doesn’t say.

”It’s hot out,” he points out, simple. “Why wait?” He takes a swig of his own water bottle, and you’re smiling again.

You join him without further comment. 

Quiet settles between the two of you again, which would be fine if you weren't suddenly itching to ask him a million questions. How was his first year of university? How are his parents, his sister? Is his favourite food still carne asada tacos? Does he still only own t-shirts and jeans? Is he… seeing anyone?

Is he happy?

Had he really missed you?

“I’ll be right back.”

You’re surprised when Vernon gets up, barely missing you with the water he sends splashing as he does. But you don’t question him, your legs swinging back and forth in the water. You watch the underwater lights distort in the ripples you make, distracted by the simple movements and your racing thoughts. When you hear him re-emerge, you turn to find him with two towels in hand. Your eyes widen and you frantically shake your head.

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit, Vernon.” And I am not getting into that pool with you in just my underwear.

He pulls something out from under one of the towels, and you recognize it as one of his favourite band tees that he’s had for years. He raises his eyebrows at you, eyes twinkling in a teasing challenge, and you narrow your eyes at him. The smile on his face briefly sends you reeling back — back to before that night last summer when everything changed. Back to when he was just your best friend who liked to tease you for fun, who brought you your favourite ice cream every movie night, who took you to your high school graduation dance even though you knew he would have rathered gouge his eyes out with a spoon. 

Back to when you were in love with him, but he didn’t know yet. 

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll get in.”

He grins, and your chest does a little flip-flop. You forcefully ignore it as you take the shirt from his outstretched hand. He turns around to give you privacy, and you keep your eyes on his turned back as you remove everything except your underwear and his shirt. Though he’s grown up now and wears things that fit him better — you had noticed the bomber jacket in his backseat, and the t-shirt he’s wearing that fits him just right — he used to love things that were three sizes too big. The old, worn shirt just brushes your thighs, but you don’t have time to think anymore about it when he moves to pull his own shirt up and over his head. 

You watch the muscles in his back contract, and you swallow. Don’t go down this road again, you tell yourself. It’s just going to hurt like hell.

If you’re honest with yourself, you’re starting to wonder if you’d ever really strayed from that path in the first place.

Because when he turns back to you with raised eyebrows and a smile, when he pulls you with him by the hand, it hits you with as much force as the cool water you jump into. And when you resurface and your eyes find him already looking back at you, his hair sticking up every which way and water dripping from his lashes down onto his cheeks, it hits you again.

That you don’t know if there will ever be anyone else for you but him.

You turn away from him, running your hands through your hair, trying desperately to keep your cool. You feel like you’re being punched in the stomach, like that sharp pain you’d felt since last August had never left. You thought you were ready to see him again, and you had been so, so wrong. 

You can feel all those months of mending, of trying desperately to get over your feelings for him so you could have him back in your life — you can feel them as they slip away. 

“I’m sorry,” was all he’d said that night, and your heart had shattered into a thousand pieces. You could tell through blurry eyes that he was hurting, too, because he loved you, you knew he did. Just not like that. He hadn’t said anything else, even though it looked like he wanted to, and you just didn’t understand. You thought for sure that he felt the same, because he’d kissed you back, because you knew him just as well as he knew you. 

And it really felt like you’d healed. Just an hour ago, you’d even been excited to see him again.

You will yourself to breathe.

“Hey. I’m sorry I pulled you in with me.”

You don’t respond.

“Are you okay?”

You don’t answer as his voice breaks through your racing thoughts, your back still turned to him. 

“…Y/N?”

He sounds concerned, like he cares. You know he does — know that he always has. And it hurts.

You can feel the water moving behind you when you still don’t respond. You can feel it as he takes a step or two closer, and you can almost imagine the look on his face as he tries to figure out what he did wrong. You feel like you’ve been burned when he reaches for you, when his hand tries to find your arm to turn you back to him. You can hear his inhale when you flinch away, your skin on fire where his fingertips just barely brushed your shoulder.

He tries again, because he loves you. Because he loves you — but not like that. “Talk to me?”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you take a deep breath. You know you have to face him in order to get through this, to leave here in one piece even if it’s by pretending. You have to. You don’t want him to know, don’t want him to know that you’re still the reason you can’t be close to him, that you still love him, that you probably never stopped. 

But when you turn to find him right there, find him so close, when you see that his eyes are full of worry, you can’t find a single word. He looks beautiful in the dim blue light of the pool, and it makes your heart ache.

“Y/N.” Your name is nothing but a whispered breath as he says it, his eyes locked so intently on your face that you suddenly feel warm all over despite the slight chill of the water. His gaze pierces through you, and you watch as it travels across your face, down to your lips, where it lingers. 

You’re not sure you’re breathing, not sure what to do, not sure how to possibly move on from what feels impossible. Why isn’t he moving away? Why is he so close? 

“I…” He tries again, eyes still on your mouth. Then he snaps his gaze up again. “I’m… I’m really happy that you’re here.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “You…”

“I missed you.” He looks hesitant before he says it, but he says it anyway, and your breath catches when you hear the tender, soft tone of his voice. It makes your head spin. “I really missed you. So much.” 

You take a steadying breath at the same time as he does. The air between you feels charged — charged with something you won’t let yourself name.

Then he’s stepping even closer, a hand lifting to your face, and you freeze. You can’t move — you don’t even know if you want to. You’re confused, but you don’t move, and all you can manage to say is a single word.

“Sol,” you caution.

He takes a deep breath in, and then he says, “You haven’t thought about it?” 

His hand is gentle on your jaw, thumb tracing lines back and forth across your skin. You feel goosebumps everywhere he touches. Your eyes search his, trying desperately to understand. You hate that you’re finding him extra hard to read right now — now, when you need to know what he’s thinking more than ever. 

“Thought about what?” Your voice is small, and you hate it.

Vernon’s other hand lifts to your face, tilting your chin up towards him. His eyes search yours as he speaks, his voice low. “Last summer.” He pauses. “Us.”

The words hit you like a truck. 

“What the fuck, Vernon?” You finally manage. You can feel the tears begin to well up, and you pull his hands away from your face. “Don’t you dare.”

He takes a step back, eyebrows knit together. “I’m sorry.”

You stare at him incredulously, frustration bubbling to the surface the longer you look at him. “Don’t be an asshole.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and all you can hear is the water gently hitting against the side of the pool. You frustratedly tuck a lock of wet hair behind your ear before crossing your arms.

“Why would you say that to me?” You’re hurt, and he knows it.

“I just…” He searches your face for a moment before he breathes out, “I think about you all the time. I miss you all the time.”

You can feel angry tears pricking at the back of your eyelids. You blink them away rapidly as you spit out, “You were the one who kissed me back and then pretended like nothing happened. You—“

“Would you have gone?”

You blink when he interrupts you, and it takes you a second to try and understand what he means. You wrack your brain, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “What?”

“Would you have gone to school there if I had told you I loved you last summer? Or would you have chosen somewhere closer?”

You’re absolutely dumbfounded as you process what he’s saying. You’re blinking away furious tears, mouth agape as you try and settle on something to say. “Was that your fucking choice to make?”

“I was trying to make it easier for you. It’s your dream school.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “What the fuck? I was in love with you, Vernon!”

“I was in love with you, too!”

The silence is deafening. You stare at him with wide eyes, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. You wonder if he can hear it. Then you squeeze your eyes shut, your hands lifting to cover your face as you try and regain your composure. 

“I thought I was doing what was best for the both of us.”

His voice is quiet. You know he’s telling the truth. It hurts, but you know he’s being honest. That he thought he was doing the right thing. 

“I thought that maybe the distance would make it a little easier,” he continues, voice carrying softly across the water in the space between you. “But it didn’t. Not for me.”

Moments pass, and you realize you’re shaking. Your hands stay covering your face as you take deep breaths, waiting until you’ve recovered enough to say, voice low, “I have never been more upset with you than I am right now.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he responds. “I know, and I deserve it. I’m sorry that I made that decision for you. I really am. I shouldn’t have done it.”

You nod after a minute, after you force yourself to breathe, letting your hands fall from your face. You can’t look at him, though, eyes instead focusing on your fingers that begin tracing patterns in the water at your sides. “Okay.”

“And I'm…” He trails off, and you wait. He takes so long that you look up to find him looking at you, waiting, and something in his eyes has you stuck there. He searches your face, and then he says, “I’m sorry that I made you think that I don’t love you back. Because of course I do.” 

Your heartbeat has begun to roar in your ears again. “You do, present tense?”

Vernon freezes, eyes wide. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally settles on something. “Shit. Sorry, fuck, I—”

“Is that a yes?”

He inhales sharply. “Yeah — yes. I don’t expect anything from you, though. I promise I’m not —“

“You are such a fucking idiot.” 

He doesn’t hesitate. “I know. I know. I’m—”

“I spent so long figuring out how to put myself back together,” you say softly, and he cuts himself off. You can feel tears pricking at the back of your eyelids again. “Without you.” 

Vernon’s shoulders sag, and he nods, looking down at the water. “Yeah.” 

Your breath catches before you steady yourself and you say, “It’s literally always been you, Sol. Even though you’re a fucking idiot.”

His eyes are wide when they shoot back up to meet yours. You inhale a shaky breath, watching as he waits, unsure. 

“It’s still you,” you add quietly, and you’re certain that you hear his breath catch.

“I’m in love with you,” he breathes out before you can say anything else. “I love you back. I did then, and I do now, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I wanted to, I swear. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m…” He trails off, a hand running through his hair as he finishes, “I’m just really fucking sorry.”

“I believe you,” you say softly, because you do. You believe him, and you’re not sure your heart has ever beat this fast. Because he loves you — the same way that you love him. Vernon looks down at the water again, and you think you can see the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks as he thinks. “Sol?”

Your soft voice makes him look up. He still looks uncertain, like he doesn’t know what he’s allowed to do. 

“Come here?”

You’re in his arms so fast you can barely process. He’s hugging you so tight against his chest that you can feel the warmth of him through your wet t-shirt, and it sends shivers down your spine. He doesn’t say anything else as he holds you, and neither do you. Your arms are wound around his neck, and you can feel the way his nose nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder. 

You pull back, your hands finding either side of his face. He blinks, slowly, taking in every part of you in the same way that you’re taking in every part of him. You brush away a stray drop of water that falls from his hair down onto his forehead, and you’re certain you’re dreaming. He’s so beautiful, a perfect juxtaposition of sharp edges and soft lines, so… Vernon. 

And he’s gazing at you like you hung all the stars in the sky — because he loves you, in the same way that you love him. 

For the second time in a year, you kiss him first.

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Here’s the sixth of our Thirteen Valentines in honour of Bononie’s birthday. Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone@savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars@darkypooo @christinewithluv @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @bella-l (Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, sorry!)

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

Pick a Card: Message from your Inner-Child

Your inner baby needs you to listen. This reading will help them speak their mind clearly. Will you hear them out? Take what resonates and let go of all the rest but be willing to accept new experiences.

☀️Donate to my CashApp🌙

(fund my inner child's joy)

Feel free to drop any reading suggestions in my inbox. I'll keep them in mind when divining the wisdom that needs delivered to y'all's lil ears. Thank you in advance for all your help and support!

Decks used are The Kawaii Tarot, Pure Magic Oracle, Romantic Lenormand and The Karma Cards.

_____________________________________________________________

PILE ONE

Astrology: Capricorn, Aquarius, Libra

Song: Pantsuit Sasquatch by Molly Lewis

Vibes: Green, red, night sky, thorns, bouquet, red flowers, chess, star gazing, alligator, aroma therapy, herbal remedies, apothecary, rabbits, snake skin, olive branch, Zues, Demeter

Cards: 6 of Swords, Saturn, Tower, Lilies, Herbal Craft, Hallowed Heart

Hello, pile 1. Your inner child is really tired of having to be the adult for people who are older than them. They are tired of playing mentor for those who should be mentoring. They want to be done with those people. They are holding up a building with their tiny arms and their shaking frame. As if someone put the world on their shoulders and asked them to carry it with bones that were not developed enough to hold it and without the mental fortitude to withstand the pressure. They wish to rest. They wish to lash out at the adults who relied on them before they were ready or willing. I see your inner child resembles Alice in Wonderland. After the wicked adults in your inner child's life grew white flowers, they demanded it was your fault and made you paint the white roses, red. They took their purity. They hurt you a lot.

The main message I am hearing from them is, "Please be gentle with my little heart and my small frame. I was treated harshly purely for being alive. I need healing. I need time to rest and recuperate. Please do not yell at me for my mistakes. Please do not hurt me for my shortcomings. I did not ask to be here. I only wish for it to get better than it is now. I'm sorry I wasn't mature. I'm sorry I've been impatient but I have been patient for so long. I've spent so much time waiting for my caretakers to do their jobs. Please. I don't need structure. I need relief."

They do not hold you accountable for everything that happened to you, my dear. They are reaching their little hands out for you to help them up. They want to be more present in your life. They want to have fun again. They didn't have enough of it as a child. They want to play outside. The last message I'll leave you with is some advice I find very important.

"Play is the psychological opposite of Trauma."

____________

PILE TWO

Astrology: Scorpio, Gemini, Cancer (maybe libra)

Song: Burn Your Village by Kiki Rockwell

Vibes: Grey, pink, purple, corvids, pinecones, sage, lavender plant, grizzly bear, spider, scorpio, eagle, hummingbird, long hair, video games, D&D, law, Zephyr, Eurus, Callisto, Artemis, Hecate

Cards: Justice, Clouds, Bear, Hecate's Path, Songbirds, 8th House

Hi, pile 2. Your inner child is full of vengeance. I see that without the vengeful energy they are very respectful and kind. Their anger is extremely understandable and a reaction induced by the environment they grew up in. Your inner child has an intense sense of justice. They know they have been treated unjustly by the authority in their life. Those in control of their circumstance took their autonomy and right of trial. The authorities judged you harshly for no good reason and were unpredictable. The authority would explode at random instances making them hard to anticipate. They were dangerous. Purely because they wanted to make your life miserable to cope with their own miserable life. Your inner child did not deserve that. Your inner innocence was corrupted into a furious and resentful person. They are aware they deserved better. They were conscious of their mistreatment. I see they could have been mistreated because of their race or gender.

The message I am hearing the loudest from your inner child is, "Those filthy horrid people deserve to atone for their wrong doings. No one helped me. They didn't even listen. They took that authorities word for truth and no one heard my side of the story. I am not a liar. I am not guilty. I did nothing wrong and now my older self doesn't even believe me either. The people who did this to me will pay. They will face justice if I have to be the one to dish it out. I hate them. I hate what they turned me into. I was pure. I was innocent. Now look at what they have made me. This isn't fair. This isn't right! Why was I treated this way!? Why does no one believe me?! I will never abuse power like that person did. I will end this cycle of abuse. I release and remove everyone who blamed me without learning the whole story. I am letting go of the pain they put me through. They do not deserve me or my kindness. They only deserve my hatred and resentment. I hope they burn."

Your inner child begs you to protect them from the people who did this to you. I can feel they are still in your life. It might be a father or a brother or an uncle. I also see it could be a pastor. Your inner baby will continue to lash out at random times because they have no where to aim all this negative emotion. They want to be free of guilt that shouldn't be theirs. They want to be free of judgmental eyes. Free them from the illusion that this authority laid over everyones eyes. I leave you with one last message.

"The weakest link will target the strongest link to avoid that they're useless."

_________

PILE THREE

Astrology: Virgo, Leo, Sagittarius

Song: Heart of a Dancer by The Happy Fits

Vibes: Blue, pink, forest green, androgenous, duality, 2b hair texture, robins, blue jays, coffee mugs, sculpting, yin/yang, balance, rose quartz, pearl, magnolia tree, gardening, bonfire, 3rd eye, Aphrodite, Hermaphroditus, archangel Samuel, Lucifer Morningstar, Baphomet

Cards: 8 of Cups, Birds, Woman, Pyro-kinesis, Closing Circle, Virgo, 7th House, North Node

Hey there, pile 3. I feel many complex emotions from your inner child. I see how they were conditioned is much different than how they genuinely are. They were conditioned to be quiet, serene and passive. But when they are acting genuine it is exact opposite. They are loud, angry and active. There is a need to walk away from their conditioning and those who conditioned them. They don't know how to ask that of you because of how they were taught. They do not speak unless spoken too and this makes it difficult for them to communicate with you. They are anxious they will be punished if they ask for anything of you. Invite them forward and allow them to speak their mind. They hold back a lot of emotion that needs to be expressed. You need to be open to hearing what they have to say.

The important message I need to tell you from them is, "You will benefit from our collaboration. I'm sorry for speaking up but you are not following your heart anymore. You are following what you have been told. This is not authenticity that you display. It is fake. Even if it is well-meaning you are not yourself. You are pretending to be someone else. Please let me express my rage. Please let me express my heart. I can't hold it anymore. I don't wanna feel this way anymore. Let me chatter and chirp and yell and scream. I wasn't allowed to when I was young. I need the freedom to do so now. Allow me to open doors I was never allowed to enter. Please see me in my full complexity. I am more than just a pretty face. I am more than my body. I am a person. I have personality. I have beliefs. I am a benefit to society when I can speak. I am not a waste. I am good as I am. I don't need to bottle my true self to make others comfortable. Free me, please."

They are asking you to allow yourself and your inner child to be themselves. They deserve space to exist freely without having to hide themselves away. I honestly don't need to say much more but I will leave you with one more piece of advice.

"Authenticity is the most powerful way to exist."

___________

PILE FOUR

Astrology: Taurus, Aries, Pisces (maybe aquarius)

Song: If My Heart Was a House by Owl City

Vibes: Muted colors, yellow, orange, fairies, sunflowers, barn owl, cat mint, raptors, vase, eyes, beards, lotus, candles, chimneys, diamond, playing cards, hobbits, anime, Apollo, Athena, Aphrodite

Cards: King of Pentacles, Sun, Owls, Ancestors, Gnomes, Aquarius, Venus

Hello and welcome, pile 4. Your inner child is asking me to tell you that you won't find the love you are looking for in other people. You won't find it in romance. You won't find it in friendship. At least not until you can find it in them. They didn't have the luxury of building their life on an identity that was theirs. They don't even know who they are. You need to explore them. Discover yourself in them. Be friends with them. They long for connection and the only one who can give that to them is you. They spent their whole life just trying to survive that they found identity in the pain they experienced. There is so much more to them than victimhood. So much more than their trauma. They are bright as the sun and immensely smart. They are funny and creative. Let yourself and your inner child grow beyond your collective pain and become something more. Your family isn't the pinnacle of humanity. I have a feeling that your family might have a narcissist among them. They are only a facet of humanity, my friend. There is so much more to your life than being approved by others. You are made of magic. You need to see that.

The message I hear from your inner child is, "I'm done striving for love from people who never intend on giving it to me no matter how perfectly I perform. I'm tired chasing something I'm never going to catch up too. I've always known I'm better than that. They made me feel so small though. They made me feel so pointless and useless. I worked so hard for their love but they will only ever love themselves. They will never have enough room in their heart for me. They make me feel like I'm not enough. I want to give myself the love they never could afford for me. I want to be loved so much. I want to be held and cherished the way I deserve to be. I am enough even if they say I'm not. I've always been enough even though I'm small. They are a giant black hole of emptiness and nothing. They are jealous of my light. I wish my older self could see that. I'm not selfish for wanting to be loved. I'm not wrong for wanting to be adored. I'm worth the effort. Please, see that it's true. I want to be known for who I am. I want to be discovered. I wish so deeply to be seen and appreciated. I'm the only one who can do it."

Your inner child is asking something of you. They ask you to take the role of mother and father for yourself. A role that was never filled even if you had your parents in your life. They neglected you. So much so you felt like you didn't deserve love but you desperately craved it. My dear, I will leave you with one last message and then the rest is up to you.

"You are worthy of being loved by you."

[sweetdispatch]

I wrote a song - J. Hughes

Songs masterlist

song: I wrote a song - Mae Muller

pairing: Jack Hughes x ex girlfriend!reader

summary: Healing process after Jack cheated on his girlfriend

warning: cheating, swear words, drinking

words: 1.4k

note: it's a way different vibe from what i normally write but i hope you like it!

---

She and Jack met through Luke. She and his brother had been friends since college because they’ve been hanging out in the same group of people. After she moved to New York, she and Luke have been hanging out a lot. One night, she was at his place when Jack came back home. When he saw her, he was starstruck. He never saw that beautiful woman like her.

After three dates, she and Jack became a couple. Luke was so happy that his brother finally found someone so similar to him. He was confident that his brother had never been this cheerful like he was with her. Although he was third wheeling them, he was delighted for their happiness. When Jack suffered an injury it was the moment when all things in their relationship went wrong.

When you said you were leaving

To work on your mental health

You didn’t mention the cheating

Jack picked up an injury in January. She was trying to be there for him as much as she could with her work schedule, but he was taking his anger out on her. Often, he was just saying sassy comments to everything she asked him. She was tired of him throwing tantrums but tried to understand him. She knew how much hockey means to him and how much it must hurt him not to be able to play, especially when Luke was all the time training and playing.

After a month, Jack was back on the ice but his attitude hadn't changed. Still, he was snippy towards her. She felt like he was blaming her for his injury. They were arguing over it and she was always in a lost position when he started screaming at her. Neither of them wanted to break up but they knew something must change so they can be happy again. 

Jack told her that he needs a break. He didn’t want to end things with her but he needed a space to figure things out. She agreed knowing that their relationship was based on screaming, crying and guilt in the past two months. This was the moment when he cheated on her. The minute he felt free, when technically they still have been dating, he started sleeping with other women. 

I got so mad, was gonna 

Cuss you out outside your house

She learnt about his cheating in the most cruel way - through social media. One day, she was scrolling through her twitter and she saw a picture of Jack kissing another woman. She didn’t know how to react. She was heartbroken. He was her first real love and she truly believed that they make things work while being on a break. This killed a piece of her heart. 

She really wanted to take revenge on Jack. She was close to going to New Jersey just to scream at him in front of his apartment. She wanted to slap him, do the worst to him so he could feel how she’s feeling but she knew she’s better than him. She simply wrote him a message saying that they are done and he should never contact her again. 

Jack was confused and asked her what her problem was. Yes, he was cheating on her but he thought he’s sneaky enough so she wouldn't notice this. When she sent him a picture of him kissing another woman, he realised that he wasn’t. He hasn't answered her. He just accepted that he’s single again. His friends were asking him what happened but he said that they realised they are not made for each other.

I could have cried a home 

And spent the night alone

Right after her short conversation with Jack, she broke down in tears. She felt like her whole world just fell apart. She wrote on group chat with her girl friends that he cheated on her and she ended things with him. All she wanted to do was to cry and lay in her living room while watching sad movies under blanket. That’s what she did. She came back home and dressed up in comfortable clothes. 

This was painful for her because half of her wardrobe were his shirts and hoodies. She decided to throw them in the box and give it to Luke when she got the chance to see him. After she found something that’s actually hers, she went and turned on Edward Scissorhands. This movie always made her cry. Around 7PM, she heard knocking. 

What she did not expect was all her friends in front of her door. They’ve been holding bottles of wine and food from her favorite place. When they came in, one of her friends put on some music and they had a little party in her apartment. They knew how much she loved Jack and wanted to make her forget about him. 

Tell all your friends

How cruel you were to me

When she and Jack broke up, she cut her ties with all his team, even Luke. She really wanted to stay around him but she was seeing him as her ex. After a month, she got better. She felt like she moved oun and was ready to talk with Luke. He was surprised when she invited him to her place but gladly accepted it.

Luke came and the first thing to do was to ask her why she broke up with his brother. She wanted to scream that it’s all Jack’s fault. That he ruined their relationship. That she was always for him but he just treated her like a servant during his injury. That he wanted a break and the first thing he had done was to cheat on her. She really wanted that but she swallowed her pride and simply said that it wasn't it. 

Luke felt that she's lying. He knew her well enough to read it but he also saw her watery eyes after he asked the question, so he decided not to dig into it. He accepted this answer but still was curious about what went wrong. He was how Jack was happy with her and how she was happy with Jack. They spent the night catching up with their lives. 

When Luke was ready to get back to his apartment, she gave him the box with Jack’ things. After he returned to his and his brother’ place, he threw the box at him. Jack was taken aback but before he could say anything, Luke asked him what really happened that they broke up. Jack never saw his brother so furious so he decided to tell him that he cheated on her. Luke listened to him and went to his room to call her and apologise for his dumb brother. 

Me and my girls are out

And we all sing along

Three months after she and Jack broke up, she returned to Michigan. She was hanging out with all her girl friends from college. One night, they decided to go to a club and have fun. She was skeptical but agreed. She knew she deserves to finally move on and search for someone new. They were getting ready and drinking wine while doing it. 

When all of them finally arrived at the club, they went to order drinks. She was partying like there’s no tomorrow. That was her first party since she broke up with Jack. In the middle of the night, she saw familiar blue eyes in the crowd. She realised that it’s her ex-boyfriend partying with his friends that she never had a chance to meet. 

She said this to her girls pleading them to leave but they told her that Jack is a past and she deserves to have a fun night. They dragged her to the dance floor when their song started playing. She was singing all her heart and laughing at the same time. She acted like only her and her friends were in the club. 

She didn’t know that Jack also noticed her. He couldn’t stop watching her and how she was having fun out there. After conversation with Luke, he realised how badly he fucked up and how much she meant to him. Seeing her all free like that made him happy. He wanted to go and apologise to her but he knew he would do more harm to her. For the rest of the night, he was watching her having fun and imagining that it was him with her, not her friends.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Ace's Story - 4

Source for pic

Firestarter 4

Word Count: 6856

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader, slight NSFW (It's mature, not explicit), slightly sugestive behaviour, flirting, jealousy, frenemies, sexual tension, miscommunication, unresolved tension, slight angst, slow-burn, romantic comedy vibes, alternate universe modern setting, swearing, drinking, fluff, feelings realisation, denial of feelings.

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

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You intended to have some alone time, to reflect and heal, but your childhood friend's older brother, Ace, seems to be there just to upset that fragile peace you're striving for. He's a flirt and a womaniser. But why does he also have to be so handsome and perfect? And how long can you resist his charms?

Notes: And so the angst begins! If you wish to be added to a tag list, say so! Thank you!

Tag List: @rosidaze

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

|Previous Chapter| | |Next Chapter|

Saturday comes and it’s very uneventful. Your father says he's got some plans with his friend Mihawk and you use the free time to clean up the rest of your room - there were still a lot of trophies and books from when you were a child, but now it finally resembles a grown-up room. 

Your initial plans for the afternoon included a marathon of trash TV and plopping down on the couch like a parasite, maybe even gobbling up some junk food. But it's such a nice day outside that you decide to do some sunbathing. 

And you do. You dress in a simple red two-piece bikini and lather sunscreen on your body before heading outside armed with your headphones, a book and a towel. The backyard has a little wooden deck with two sun chairs and a small pool. The pool is closed but you're not really interested in it. So you get your little setup and sigh in relaxation. You never had moments like these in the city. Ichiji liked the fancy parties and clubs, there was barely any time the both of you spent together like this. 

In retrospect, you should've seen the end of the relationship coming. You barely had anything else to give each other. It was only a matter of time. 

You cosy up on the chair and stretch. It feels really nice. 

The view of the property is relaxing and the only house you can see in the proximity is Mr. Garp’s. The houses are only separated by a small path and you can see the windows perfectly well. You know which one was Luffy’s old room, you have been there a bunch of times, but you don't quite know which one is Ace's. 

You try to guess based on the knowledge you have of the inside of the house. It's either the one to the right of Luffy’s, or it's the one that faces the side of the house. 

A small smile creeps its way to your lips as you remember your time together at the firestation. Being with Ace felt really natural. You didn't have to force any conversation, he made you laugh and, damn, the chemistry. The sexual tension was crazy. 

But there is only a slight problem. You aren't looking to be just another one. You are no longer in that phase of your life when you're just looking for fun. You want something actually meaningful. And Ace is not meant for meaningful relationships. He isn't capable of it. 

You exchanged some texts with Nami last night saying that you had fun and she had probed you so hard that you caved and admitted you feel very attracted to Ace. But then you probed her, and every assumption you had about him was correct. He is a player and leaves behind him a long trail of broken hearts. He's all about the chase and the conquest. Once he gets the kiss, the girl, the fuck… It's over. 

And you refuse to be just that. 

The afternoon rolls by lazily and you have already rolled over on your back and on your front, just like a happy kitten. Until you see a movement in Ace's house. 

It’s him. 

You were right, his room is next to Luffy’s. He stands in front of the window - shirtless - and unaware that you are there, apparently, since he’s staring somewhere else, his signature cheeky grin in place, and you smile. Damn, he’s cute. 

Off-limits, player, just a crush! 

Can he see you? Could he be tempted to join you in the sun? 

Immediately your head starts to create interesting scenarios for both of you to play out. 

Ace arriving with his cocky smirk and telling you that you look gorgeous. 

Ace setting a knee in the middle of your legs to pry them open as his hand cradles your neck to pull your face up. 

His other hand clutching your hip for dear life. His tongue licking the sweat from your body, from your belly to your chest. 

The hottest kiss you could ever dream of, eliciting all kinds of choked noises and mewls from your mouth. 

You take a deep breath and fan your hat over your face. Maybe it's time to get out of the sun? You're getting pretty hot! 

You gather your book and start to get up when you take another look at Ace's window. And then instantly freeze and regret having looked at all. 

There is a young brunette girl in front of the window, grinning while she closes the curtains. 

Your breath catches for an instant. And then the dread in your stomach spreads its icy tendrils up to your heart. 

It's nothing short of a surprise. It's what he does. His modus operandi. But the realisation still stings. Just last night he told you that he's always thinking about you. Your mind told you, at that moment, that it was a line he used on every girl, yet, your heart thought differently. 

But today, not even 24 hours later, he has a girl in his room. 

You refuse to cry. Even if the tears are more of frustration and about how gullible you are, more than anything else. 

Yet, you should've known. You were warned. 

-*-

Ace keeps sending you texts asking how you are and if you want to hang out. You keep leaving him unread. You're still pretty pissed at him, even though you know you have no right to be. He's not your anything. 

Then you get another text. It's Nami this time, so you open it.  

You miss Luffy! Ace told you he also works at the firestation, but since he no longer lives with his grandfather, you still haven’t gotten the chance to hang out with him. You’ll definitely go to this party. Even if you’re sure to run into Ace and whatever girl he’s with right now…

This triggers Nami, so she instantly calls you. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Forget it, Nami. It's nothing new. I just saw him through the window of his room with some girl.” You force out a laugh. “Nami, it's just a silly attraction. Nothing else. I just think he's really hot!”

“Babe, if you keep thinking about him I think you should just ride that cowboy… Scratch that itch… You get my drift? Take it out of your head and then that's it!”

“You sound ridiculous.”

“Yet no wiser words have ever been spoken.”

“Maybe, but I'm not interested in being just another notch under his belt. I'd much rather be just a friend.” You reiterate. 

“From what I hear, I’d say it's your loss!” She chuckles. “But you're still coming to the party, right?”

“Yes, obviously.” You agree with a chuckle. 

“And if Ace's there with his bimbo?”

“Good riddance to both. I just want to be friends with him, anyway.”

You can almost hear the eye roll on the other end. But to her credit, she doesn't say anything. 

“Deal. We'll meet at your house to get ready. It's closer. I'll tell Robin.”

You agree and after hanging up, there's still a small smile pressed upon your lips. Nami is a friend and she makes you happy. Ace is also a friend. You shouldn't be mad at him. 

Therefore, you open his texts and finally answer him, claiming to have been busy. Forgetting all about the brunette bimbo and simply focusing on your friendship. 

Just like Nami, he gets tired of texting and calls you. 

“Hey gorgeous. I thought you were ghosting me.”

You lie back on the bed and roll your eyes. “Don't call me gorgeous. And I could never ghost you. I've just been busy.”

“Yeah, I get it. I've had a busy day as well.” He chuckles and the cold in your stomach spreads. 

“I bet…” You mumble. 

Friends! Friends! Friends! 

“I can't call you princess and I can't call you gorgeous, what do you want me to call you then?”

Why is his chuckle so damn sexy over the phone? 

“My name, genius! What else?”

“I'll get back to you about that.” Another chuckle. “Have you heard about my little brother’s party?”

“Nami is my friend, how could I not?” You chuckle. 

“Right, right. Are you going?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Me too, obviously.”

Then he proceeds to tell you about the busy day he had helping his grandfather with some affairs at the house and about some paperwork he still had to do from this week's occurrences at the firestation and you tell him about your day. 

He doesn't mention the brunette. And neither do you. 

Somehow, the time goes by and you end up talking with Ace for almost two hours straight. Just like you were musing earlier, he's so easy to talk with. So natural, so fun. 

Shanks knocks lightly on the door and pokes his head inside. “Bug? Dinner's ready.”

You rise immediately, sitting on the bed with wide eyes. Dinner already? You didn't even realise it was already dinner time, and you had meant to cook it. Shanks must have realised that you were taking too long on the phone and did it himself. 

“Oh! Right. I'll be right down, dad. Ace I've got to go. Talk to you tomorrow, bye.”

Shanks bites his cheek, his brows scrunched. It looks as if he wants to say something, but he's considering that it's not his place to do so. So he smiles at you and begins to walk downstairs to the kitchen and you follow. 

The first minutes of the meal are spent in silence until you start telling him about your day. Then, abruptly he talks. 

“Bug… Is your relationship with Ace advancing?”

The fork stops midway to your mouth and you feel your cheeks burn. 

“I know it's not really my place. You are an adult and I was not a present father in your life. Believe me, I regret it most days. Maybe if I had tried a little harder, you and your mother could still be together and you'd have grown up with me. Maybe I had more right to butt into your business. But I worry… and… well…”

“Dad, Ace and I are just friends. Nothing else. He's really easy to talk with and we have a lot of the same interests. He's fun. But that's it. Don't worry.”

You can almost see the relief in Shanks’ face. And you almost feel bad about the way Ace really makes you feel. Because your father's worry is not at all misplaced. Ace is dangerous for impressionable hearts. 

“Friends? Okay, okay. That's good.”

You just have to make sure your heart is not impressionable and that friends are all you and he will ever be. That's all you want to be. 

-*-

The next morning passes by pretty fast as you help your dad with the chores and get the horses and the ponies ready for the Summer Jubilee. Shanks is going to have a horse riding station, mostly for the kids, but sometimes adults like to join too. 

“How's your back, dad?”

“I'm managing. I'm still taking the pills.” 

“Don't overdo it, alright? Are you sure you don't need me there to help you?” 

“No, baby, Beckman will be there to help me. You know he loves these horses. You go and have fun at your party.” 

Benn Beckman is one of your dad’s oldest friends. They used to play some sport together in school and they both never left town, so it’s a natural friendship, like yours with Nami and Robin. The festival only starts on Monday, but the vendors and concessionaires that will have their businesses at the fair are going to use Sunday to set up and you feel as if you should be helping your dad instead of going to a party. 

Shanks winks, and you laugh. “I will, dad.”

“Just not too much fun…” He grumbles, beneath his breath and you roll your eyes as you climb the stairs to take a bath and wait for the girls. 

-*-

“Ohhh, I've got the perfect dress for you!” Nami claps excitedly and you roll your eyes to the back of your head. 

“I have my own clothes, Nami! What is it with you and trying to get me into your clothes?”

“Funny, she always tries to get me out of them…” Vivi muses and you laugh out loud. 

“Honey, don't take this the wrong way. You're beautiful, but your clothes are a bit… plain… don't you want to dress to impress?” She winks. 

“Not really, no.”

“Too bad. This dress is perfect. Vivi and Robin already agreed and I won't take no for an answer. Ace will be blown away!”

You sigh and let Nami dress you up as if you were a barbie doll. There’s no use in fighting her, really. And you hate to admit it, but she does own some sexy clothes. And you do want to blow Ace away.

Though you’re having a hard time admitting it.

-*-

As you cross the tiny pathway to Mr. Garp’s house - turns out ‘at Luffy’s’ means there because Luffy’s flat is too small to fit his many, many friends - your heart starts to beat faster. You know Ace will be there. And you know there will be girls all over him. But you should also know that you can't be jealous, because you're nothing but a friend to him. 

And that's all you'll ever be. 

Still, you feel as if an army of tiny ants are crawling on your insides because everything is moving and squirming in there and you are actually quite nervous to meet him. You guys had a wonderful chat yesterday, but you also knew he had been with another girl before speaking with you. 

And Nami has already told you: Ace is a chaser. He likes the difficulty in seducing women - not that it's difficult for him, you bet. You need to keep repeating in your head: you don't want to be just another girl! 

Are you obsessing? 

Shaking your head, you try to steady your heels on the uneven path. Why did you listen to Nami? You tried to put on sneakers, but after she dressed you in the most shockingly slinky, short red dress with a draped cowl neckline and thin gold chain straps, she almost had a heart attack when she saw your feet. 

She screamed sacrilege and almost hit you in the head with the gold heels. You kept repeating that it was too much, but none of the girls listened to you. To be fair all of them look equally stunning and sexy, so you don't really feel that out of place. 

Still, it's hard to walk in these things and you're pretty sure you’ll be taking them off at one point or another as the party progresses.

As you pass the threshold of the front door, you get immediately overwhelmed by the sheer number of people. It smells like sweat, pot and booze, and the mixture makes you wrinkle your nose. 

“Who are all these people?” You ask Nami, screaming over the loud music. 

“Luffy has many friends!” She answers with a laugh. 

Right. He has many friends but they're definitely from out of town because you're pretty sure that he has more people inside this house than the entire population of your hometown. 

Robin wanders away saying she saw Sabo and she wants to say hi. Nami winks suspiciously at her and the raven-haired girl blushes and giggles. Then, Nami does a little crowd check and smiles. 

“Oh, I see my friend Lola. Will you be alright by yourself or do you wanna come?” She asks with concern and you nod vigorously. You are already seeing some familiar faces, and you won't mind mingling for a while. She smiles and saunters over with her girlfriend, also ready to mingle. 

Sighing, you set out to find a drink, first. You're in the right mood to get wasted after thinking about Ace sucking face with half of the pretty girls at this party! And free booze is just the right way to do it. Sanji is there and you take the cocktail he effortlessly makes for you with a big smile but you don't get to chat much as his drinks are in high demand and he excuses himself to go cater to another beautiful lady. 

You chuckle at his ways and take a sip of the drink he made for you. Perfect. 

You hear your name being shouted and turn around with wide eyes. It's Luffy. You hug him and he hugs back, introduces you to some of his many friends and both of you speak as if you never stopped talking at all. 

“I'm so glad you're back in town again! Ace can't stop talking about you!” He grins and you blush. 

“Right. I bet.”

But, even though you wouldn't mind knowing what Ace has to say about you, Luffy is also in high demand and gets summoned by a man with a long nose and curly black hair, who's smiling at him. Excusing himself, Luffy promises to find you again and you promise to hold him to that. 

You take another look around the room, trying to find old friends amidst the sea of new faces, but your eyes are immediately drawn to him. In all his shirtless glory, obviously. And, even more obvious is the way there's a brunette sticking to his side. An arm draped around his waist and dreamy eyes on her face. 

It figures. The party has just started and already Ace has chosen his catch of the day. Or maybe it's the catch from yesterday?

It irks you so much! Why does he have to be such a player? No, screw that! He can be a player all he wants, he just needs to stop giving you attention and making you feel special! He needs to back off! So you can move on! Geez, you look like a teenager with her first serious crush. 

Chugging the cocktail in one go, you cringe at the aftertaste and quickly ask Sanji to make you another one. You've made up your mind. You just need to avoid Ace all night. If he doesn't speak with you, there's no chance for him to enchant you with his deceiving words. There. You're a genius. 

With this happy resolution in mind and a new tasty cocktail in hand, you decide to leave this room. First step to avoiding Ace, don't be where he is. 

Swaying your hips to the beat of the song, you make your way to the backyard so you can breathe some fresh air and though there are many people outside, the open makes everything better and you inhale deeply. 

“Heeey beautiful.” A slurred voice echoes near your ear as a grimy hand moves your hair away from your shoulder, from behind. “Is that dress on sale? Because it's 100% off at my place!”

You cringe as you turn and slap the hand away from you. “First of all: eughhh! Secondly, don't touch me, creep.” The man looming near you smirks and licks his lips as his eyes rake your body from head to toe, drinking you in, and he further invades your space. 

“Come on,” he snorts and you realise he's clearly inebriated or high, or maybe both. “Dressing like that, what were you expecting?” He reaches and tries to touch you, but a large hand, coming from a presence behind you, wraps around his wrist and stops him. 

“Respect, obviously.” A low voice rumbles over your head as you turn your head around and meet the cold gaze of Ace, boring his dark eyes straight into the boy in front of you. Because in the face of Ace, he's nothing but a scared little boy. He steps in front of you and smirks. “Now apologise and beat it, before I kick you out of my house.” You're impressed with how he managed to speak such menacing words with a smile and still sound threatening. 

The boy mutters a hastened apology and escapes, tail between his legs. 

You face Ace with a frown still upon your lips. So much for avoiding him. Your plan failed and you're not a genius. You're actually an idiot. “Why do you insist on being my knight in shining armour? Especially since you're never wearing anything other than shorts!” You reply deadpan as you point at his naked torso. 

He's checking you out. His eyes linger suggestively on your exposed legs - Nami, once again, knew who she was dealing with when dressing you - and a cheeky smirk curves his cheeks upwards and makes his freckles dance just for you. “I know you like seeing my muscles.” He flexes and guffaws as you roll your eyes. 

“Yeah, me and all these young, impressionable college girls. Smooth, Ace.” You muffle a snort by taking another sip of the amazing cocktail and close your eyes in bliss. “Thank you, but I know how to defend myself from creeps. You can go now. I see a lot of lonely girls ogling you. I'm sure you have better things to do.” You mention suggestively. 

It still stings to know Ace is a player. And that you almost fell for his act. Because how can you not fall for the hot, freckled, funny and helpful fireman who compliments you and pays attention to you? Until you realise you're just another one. And you're not special nor ever were. Not to him, not to anyone. You're just… just… 

You. 

Sighing, you finish your drink in one gulp and turn inside to get another. Maybe this time you'll bring a bottle with you. 

“Woah, easy there, tiger. Don't chug your drinks like that. They taste sweet but they pack a mean punch! Sanji doesn't go light on the alcohol unless you specifically tell him to.”

You eye his drink and, honestly, don't even care what's in it. Locking eyes with him and burning him with your gaze, you snatch the red cup from his hand, ignoring his protests and warning words. “Well, boo-freaking-hoo!” With a mock toast gesture, you chug the whole thing in one gulp.

And regret it immediately.

You cough and wheeze, eyes brimming with tears as you try to breathe through your nose to calm the burn in your throat. Ace just stares at you and crosses his arms over his bare chest. The drink was nasty! It was like pure alcohol. 

“What the hell?” You sputter. 

“I told you, you couldn't handle it.”

“Shove off, Ace!” You drawl as you turn back inside in search of a bottle. God, this man infuriates you. He doesn't follow you inside and you don't care for the empty feeling that leaves in your stomach. You'll soon fill up that spot with some booze. 

Securing a bottle, you make your way back outside, expertly avoiding the place where Ace was, and start mingling with some old school friends. Time flies in an instant. Either that, or the vodka you snatched is really good, because suddenly everything seems to be spinning around you. 

You make up an excuse and try to find your way back inside, ready to find Nami and tell her this was a terrible idea and you are going to go home. But, instead, you take another chug of the bottle and wince. The numbness of the alcohol is quite refreshing, maybe a bit more won't hurt. 

But your steps are uneven and you keep bumping into people and apologising. Someone grabs you and pulls you into a dance and you can't quite tell if you know the person or not. It looks like he has spiky green hair and a loop for a nose ring. His teeth seem really sharp but that might be just the alcohol talking. He starts to get handsy because you're losing your balance, but soon, his hands go from your waist to your hips and try to get lower. 

Your brain clicks and you shove the man away but you are even dizzier from the dance and ready to fall or pass out until a strong pair of hands grabs your waist and sets you over his shoulder unceremoniously. 

Before you protest, you realise it's Ace just by the smell of him. That darn smokey wood and fresh pine! A freaking punch in the gut just as you were having fun. “Let go!” You slur into his back as you start to kick your feet in the air. 

“Stop it! Your dress is riding up! This thing is freaking short.” He hisses. 

“I don't care! Let go of me, Ace, I mean it!” You keep kicking and sure enough, your dress is almost exposing your butt, so you feel him pull the fabric down and settle his warm, big hand over the gap of your thighs and your butt so it doesn't ride up again. 

That action stops your squirming immediately. 

You start to take notice of your position: breasts are squished against his back and bare legs feeling all of the heat emanating from his chest. And his smell… God, his intoxicating smell is making your head spin. Or perhaps that’s from all the alcohol. 

Why is he with you? Shouldn't he be sucking face with some bimbo? 

You realise you still have the bottle in your hand, so you take another sip as Ace carries you up the stairs. You've been upstairs at Luffy’s house before. In his room, never in Ace's. Because that's definitely where he's taking you. So in with another sip. 

“Stop drinking!” He hisses again and sets you down at the top of the stairs. You stumble and hit your back against the wall with a low whine. At least you're steady now. 

Grinning, you raise the bottle, your eyes never leaving his harsh stare. “Make me.” You taunt and take another sip. Ace grunts as his hands tousle his dark hair. 

“You're infuriating.” 

“Hmm, hmm.” You chuckle. “As I thought. You're all bark and no bite.” You take a step to the side to descend the steps, aiming to get another bottle, or to find Nami, or leave. Whatever. Anything to get away from Ace's intoxicating presence. 

But the stairs move! Or the floor does. You're not certain. What you do know is that you're about to fall. 

But, obviously, you don't get to fall, because your knight is right there for you, holding your waist and pulling your body against his. Ace’s head nuzzles against the crook of your neck while his arm circles your waist, protectively. You feel pressure on your hips just as he digs his digits firmly against your flesh, his hip fixation driving you crazy once more as your toes curl. 

A gasp leaves your parted lips as he inhales your scent and then you moan softly as he exhales hot breath against your neck, trailing goosebumps with his lips and grunting near your ear. 

He lets go abruptly and wraps a hand around your wrist, tugging and pulling you towards his bedroom. Is this going to happen? Are you going to fall into his trap? 

Because you're drunk? 

Opening the door he throws you onto his bed with a growl and turns. You hear him breathing heavily but you can't do anything as everything is spinning around you and, even if you wanted to, you couldn't quite get up yet. 

After a moment you hear his feet shuffle as he turns back to you. “Sleep.” He approaches and snatches the bottle from your hand. “And enough of this.”

He turns to leave the room but you grab his wrist. Were you going for the bottle? Or was it really his wrist you meant to grab? 

“Stay.” You whisper against your will. 

You can almost hear his internal battle raging outside. You're drunk, and you know he doesn't want to take advantage. But you do. 

Do you? 

His jaw clenches and he sits by the foot of the bed, away from you, his face turned as he's assaulted by a grim look. 

You can't think too much about this or it will never happen. You're drunk. So you should just go with it. You're sure it'll feel good. It will help you process whatever it is you think you feel for him and then, finally, forget him. What did Nami say? 

Ride that cowboy, scratch that itch. 

Damn, riding him does sound good. Who cares about the dumb bimbos he has downstairs waiting for him? Who cares if he'll just find another girl to chase after you?

Sex sounds pretty damn appealing now. 

“So how does this work, exactly?” You start, getting on your knees and approaching his body, one hand caressing his naked shoulders and now he can't help but stare back at you. “You seduce the girl, or barely do anything because you have all that!” You point at his body with a snort. “And then after you've fucked her, you move on? It's like she never existed, nothing happened, just another notch under your belt?”

You ask while he keeps staring at you. You can't read anything in his dark eyes. His freckles seem lifeless, his smirk is gone and he doesn't seem amused at all. 

“Because if that's how it works, maybe we should have a go at it. You just fuck me and we both move on. Because I can't take this anymore, Ace.” Your voice is barely a whisper. You move closer and straddle his lap. Your dress rides up and you buckle your hips against him, feeling his hardness against your achy, needy core as he muffles a grunt against his pressed lips. His hands twitch as if he wants to grab you but they remain planted firmly against the bed. His eyes never leave yours, yet he remains silent. “I can't be this hung up on you anymore, Ace. So just get this over and done with, will you? So we can both move on.”

Tilting your head to the side and digging your nails into his scalp, you lean in for the kiss, ready to take his lips, his tongue, his hands and his dick. And then his rejection, his aloofness and the hurt of seeing him with someone else. 

That is the whole Ace package. 

But maybe that's what it takes to stop obsessing over him. 

Except you don't take anything because he stops you. Two strong hands on your shoulders push you back as his gaze falls down, facing your bodies where they are close. Would be connected, even, if not for the clothing between you. Ace is breathing heavily and you can feel the tension oozing out of him in hot waves. 

“Stop.” He says your name firmly. And you know a ‘no’ when you hear one. Even though this one hurts like hell. 

Nodding, it takes you a few turns to swallow the hard lump that formed in your throat. As you get off his lap and fix your dress, you notice that the world is spinning once again and this time it's almost unbearable. 

“It's not that I don't want you. Trust me.” He groans. “It's just… you're not even going to remember this conversation tomorrow, let alone be of sane mind to consent to sex.” He snorts and shakes his head. “When-... if we do this, I want you to remember all of it.”

You roll your eyes at him and scoff loudly. “I would rather forget.” You mumble and lie back, curling to the side and closing yourself off. As if you would like to remember the time when Ace used you and dumped you - if it happened. Forgetting is much easier than getting all of his attention. 

He sighs and gets up. Then he takes off your shoes and tells you to close your eyes and sleep. You close them, with a heavy heart and a heavier conscience. You do hope you don't remember this tomorrow. The way you threw yourself at him and the way he swiftly rejected you. 

Which one is worse, really? 

Covering your body with a blanket, he puts the trash can near the bed in case you need it later - you’ll probably need it. There’s a heaviness on top of your eyes, the beginnings of a throbbing headache, and a moment passes but Ace doesn't leave. His presence still fills the room, still fills you and makes your heart ache. But you don't open your eyes to acknowledge him - or your pain - and your breath starts to even out. 

You hear him sigh and sense him leaning above you, his head hovering near yours. “You would never be just another notch under my belt…” He murmurs and kisses your forehead gently before leaving you alone in his room.

-*-

You’re woken up either by the bright sun shining directly on your eyelids, or by the throbbing headache in your temples, you’re not quite sure.

Either way, your body says that it’s too early for this, and it’s too freaking hot. When it gets this hot, you usually lean against the wall on the side of your bed to absorb the coolness from the bricks. So you turn to the side and scoot over to mould yourself against the cool wall.

Except there’s no wall. 

And there’s no more bed.

So you fall with a soft yelp, dragging the blanket - which is rolled around your torso, arms and face, for some reason - and fall onto the hard floor.

Wait.

You fall, alright, but not onto the hard floor. It’s firm. And it’s a body. It’s grunting.

Huffing, you try to stand up but the blanket makes the job difficult and the room is still spinning from all the alcohol you ingested yesterday, so you sit, on top of the body, stradling the man below you, and trying - in vain! - to either get up or to get rid of the blanket, all the while muffling apologies for the minor ‘inconvenience’. 

In the middle of your desperate plight to escape your situation, you hear another low grunt and feel two strong hands grab your hips and pin you against his body, making it impossible to move.

“Stop. Squirming. Please.” 

It’s Ace. You stop immediately, your free hand grasping at the surface in front of you - his abs. Feeling your face burn up at the touch you realise the reality of your situation: You’re both on the floor, with you straddling him and fondling his perfect six-pack - maybe stop touching him! - and he’s very hard between your legs. 

“I-I’m sorry. It’s… the blanket…” You start, your face hidden by the thrice-damned blanket. Ace grunts again and you wince at the loss of contact when he removes one of his hands and rips the blanket off you with one swift motion. 

The pull disrupts your balance, and you dig your nails into his stomach - that’s sure to leave a mark - and tighten your legs around him to try and steady yourself. You know he doesn’t mean to, but Ace bucks his hips up with your squirming and you barely bite back a whine at the friction that creates in your core. 

“Fuck.” He mutters with a desperate exhale, lifting his torso up and facing you.

This is dangerous territory. And now you’re free, so you should get up. Why don’t you? 

Ace’s fingers grip your hips tighter. When did his hand return to your hip? You didn’t notice it, it’s like it belongs there. And why are you now grabbing his shoulders? His eyes are all pupil and he doesn’t blink while he drinks you in. You know you must be a mess. Hair all over the place, smudged makeup, dress straps off your shoulders… yet the look he’s giving you makes you feel like you’re the only girl that matters in the world. 

“Don’t do that…” You whisper. You want him to stop looking at you like that, to stop making you feel special and wanted, because you can’t take another heartbreak, and there’s no way that something you start with Ace won’t end in heartbreak. So you need to nip this in the bud even before it blooms. 

“Right.” His voice is hoarse and ragged as his hold tightens around your waist, lifting you with ease and setting you aside, removing himself from the situation. He grabs a discarded shirt from the back of his chair and leaves the room cursing and tousling his hair. 

You only meant for him to stop looking at you like that. You didn’t want him to leave completely. Right? Because now there’s a sudden emptiness inside and around you and you’re not quite sure how to be complete again. 

Sighing, you massage your temples with both hands. The tension between the two of you is becoming unbearable. Should he just fuck you and get it over with so you could each go your own way?

Why does this line of thought feel so familiar?

Lowering your head, you inhale and almost gag at the smell of your dress. At some point yesterday you must’ve spilled an entire drink on yourself, because it smells like the back alley of the town's dingiest tavern. 

You test your stability by slowly lifting yourself with the help of the bed, and it works. Then you look around and, sure enough, there’s a half-crumpled t-shirt lying on the chair, the same place he took the other one from. Grabbing it, you take a tentative sniff. It doesn’t smell bad. If anything, it smells like him.

It smells amazing.

Even though Ace closed the door when he left, you turn your back and quickly discard your dress. You curse when you realise you’re not wearing a bra because the dress didn’t allow for one, but you still pull the shirt over you. It falls to your thighs, almost at the same height as the dress.

“Hmm, hmm.” Ace’s grunt startles you and you turn swiftly to the door. Did he see you change? “Here.” He extends a glass of water and two pills. His eyes are locked on the ceiling and there’s a slight blush on his cheeks. He saw you.

You choose not to acknowledge the fact.

“Thanks.” You take the pills and almost inhale the glass of water because you’re so thirsty. Then you sigh in satisfaction and set the glass on his desk. “I took your shirt, I thought you wouldn’t mind… seeing as you barely wear them.”

That elicited a very small chuckle from him, but the curl of his lips didn’t even reach his freckles. 

“Do you remember anything from last night?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“No. Not much. I think I remember you bringing me here, but then, nothing. I must’ve blacked out immediately, right?” You chuckle and miss the pained grimace on his face.

“Yeah, that was it.”

“Sorry for taking your bed and making you sleep on the floor.” He shrugs. “Sorry for falling on top of you… I thought I was in my room, you see, there’s usually a wall there and-...” You stop your wild gestures and chuckle. 

Why does this feel weird all of a sudden?

“I guess I should get going. Shanks might be worried.” You know your father will never say anything about you spending the night away or drinking, you’re no longer a kid, but he will still worry.

“I texted him last night to tell him you were alright and spending the night.”

You flush as your eyes meet his. “You told him just like that?” He nods and you groan. “Great, he’s going to think we have something.”

“Who would want that, right?” He sounds sarcastic.

“What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem!” He grunts again and you somehow pick up on the fact that he’s angry at you, or frustrated at least. 

“Clearly you do!” Taking a step forward, you try to approach him with your hand extended, but he turns his face away from you with a ‘tsk’ and steps back. For some reason your heart sinks and you feel cold. 

“Got it. I’m the problem. I’ll get out of here, no worries.” Maybe he wanted to spend the night with some girl and you being in his bed got in the way of that? That had to be it. Why else would he be so upset?

Grabbing your shoes from the floor and your crumpled, smelly dress, you make your way to the door, brows knitted together and lips pursed. 

“I’m so sorry for getting in the way of your lay. Maybe you should’ve just dumped me in Luffy’s old room instead of your own. Then you would’ve been able to fuck whomever you wanted.”

You stomp past him and you don’t know why you have tears stinging in the back of your eyes. Might be because of the hangover? It has to be.

“So sorry for the inconvenience.” You shout before running down the hall, down the stairs and to your home.

[therealmylesmorales]

SFW Alphabet|| Lara Croft

Kiss kiss anon, here’s what you requested 🫶🏾

No warnings, I don’t think. Just low key Dorky!Lara. Might make that my brand.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

On a scale from 1-10, Lara’s a solid 9.5; the only reason why she’s not a 10 is because she’s away a lot. I’ve decided that physical touch is one of her love languages as well, love touching/being touched by you. Especially kissing. She would even playfully pout at you if you deny her of your touch.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Lara met you through Sam. You were a friend of Sam, meeting through university and got back in contact when you moved back to England. At first, you thought Lara didn’t like you you just made her super nervous. Eventually, Lara became a good friend to you as well, especially when Sam cut contact with Lara. The friendship…then the relationship grew from there.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cuddling is Lara’s favorite activity with you. She loves laying on top of you, completely covering your body like a blanket as you play with her hair. It’s often that Lara would nap while you did that. As for the big spoon/little spoon, Lara’s mostly the big spoon, loving the feeling of your body pressed against her.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Lara grew up with maids and chefs but spent enough time annoying around them where she picked up some tips. However, she enjoys your cooking more, claiming that your cooking is much better. She’s British y’all, give her a break.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

For kicks and gigs, let’s just say that Lara would want to break up with you. Lara’s mature, she would give you reasons on why she feels a certain way and for how long. She would want only space at first, just to see if her feelings would mellow out during that time period.

But if things don’t change, she would let you know that it’s not your fault; she’s the one that feels that way. And she would not want to stay in contact afterwards, knowing neither would heal if that’s the case.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

As soon as that “girlfriend” title was placed, Lara would be all about you. And after a year of being together, she could see you being in her life forever. But she probably wouldn’t propose then and there, just give her time to plan it first. Unless you somehow throw off her plans by proposing first, she would just give you the ring after you had your moment.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

You’re like a flower to Lara. Beautiful and fragile, and she treats you as such. The way she cares for you is unlike anything you’ve imagined. She would never let you take on more than needed, more than willing to take on the load if you’re feeling too stressed over work.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

For the plot, just pretend that you’re short. Lara’s like 5’8”, just vibe.

Lara loves giving you hugs; resting her chin on top of your head, smelling your perfume, it brings her peace. Her hugs are warm, feeling her strong arms around you would make you feel safe. She gives you hugs around the same amount as her kisses..

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Lara almost said that shit on the first date. But she somehow held herself back, not wanting to scare you off. It surprised her that you were the first one to say it, after six months of dating. And ever since, Lara will always say it to you at least twice a day.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

We saw a jealous Lara. She would try to let you handle it. She trusts you with everything in her…just not other people. So, when she sees them being pushy and not respecting you, Lara would have to step in.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Lara’s kisses are soft, tender, almost as if she’s afraid you’d break if she’s too rough. And she lingers, like she wants you to remember how she feels even when she’s not there. Her favorite place to kiss you are your lips, obviously. Another common place to kiss you is your knuckles, she’s just in love with you like that.

As for her, Lara would never turn down a kiss from you, no matter where you decide to place it. However, the bridge/tip of her nose makes her giggle. I’d call that her second favorite type kiss.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Lara likes children but not enough to the point to want one of her own. She’s comfortable with just the two of you, maybe an animal or two as well. However, maybe more down the line, you would gain her attention if you mentioned having a child with her.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Those mornings where you both have nothing to do are Lara’s favorites. She’ll get to bask in the morning sun and in the attention you give her. Lara would try to keep you in bed for as long as she could until you pulled her out to get the day started.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with Lara are tranquil. If you were apart for most of the day, she would lay with you, just to hear you talk; good, bad it wouldn’t matter to her, you would still have her full attention. Alternatively, if you spent the day together, there would be an hour where Lara would catch up with her own work or even read. It was her winding down time.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Lara would be shy during the first few meet up’s, so she’s unnaturally quiet. But over time, she would quickly warm up and reveal a few things about her. Just about anything would be on the table for her to talk about.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Lara is a very patient person, especially when it comes to you. It’s even rare for her to raise her voice around you. However, for those times that she’s running thin, she wouldn’t hesitate to ask you for a bit of space just to calm herself down.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

One thing we can’t do is deny how smart Lara is. She would remember something you mentioned once. One your first date. YEARS ago. Lara would have to remind you about a few things you said.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Lara’s favorite memory is when you agreed to be her girlfriend. It was your third date, when Lara finally understood that she didn’t need to be extravagant in order to impress you. She showed up at your apartment with a small gift and a bouquet, the question on the tip of her tongue but she hesitated; she wasn’t sure if her feelings were one sided and you only saw her as a good friend. Lara you fuck ass lesbian.

But that hesitation immediately washed away when you kissed her mid movie after sensing her nervousness.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Like I said in one of my first headcannons, Lara would teach you how to use a gun, and it would not be up for debate. Trinity might be gone but that doesn’t mean she’s free of enemies and she would be damned if they got to you. She would tell you about the weapons hidden around the manor just in case as well.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Lara puts effort with everything in her. She would always manage to bring you a small trinket from another country, to the point where you have an entire bookshelf filled with them. For your very first date, she rented out a museum and tried to impress you with her knowledge on a few topics. She nerded out a few times but she succeeded. And not to mention the time she took you to Hawai’i for your one year.

Moral of the story, Lara would go above and beyond for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Lara gets in her head a lot and forgets to do a lot of human necessities. When she’s locked up in her office, Lara would get obsessed over her next clue, the code she would have to crack and would accidentally ignore you. She would give you short responses or even politely decline your offers for food. Lara would feel bad about later, when she noticed you stopped coming in and would timidly apologize later that night.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Honestly…I don’t see Lara being that vain. Every other week, baby girl is covered in dirt, blood, mud and new scars. Yeah, of course she does her best but she dosen’t see the point in most days especially if she has to leave soon.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Lara wasn’t complete until she met you. She was going through the motions, life was a routine. Then you got added. You made her life more exciting, she couldn’t wait to be around you. You added something Lara didn’t know she was missing.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

No Edward Cullen type shit, but Lara loves to watch you sleep. When she wakes up before your alarm goes off, she likes to soak in those few extra minutes of your peaceful face. She would try to coax you awake with soft kisses to make your morning.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Lara doesn’t like people that are unnecessarily mean. Therefore, if your way of flirting with people is by being mean, you have no chance. Sorry, mean fems. You have a better chance with Claire than Lara.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

One thing for sure is that Lara is a heavy sleeper. When she’s out in the wild, she’s alert, waking up at every little noise so she gets little to no sleep. But at home, when she’s safe and with you? Not only will Lara sleep like a log, but be prepared to hear grown man snores coming from her after being away.

Another thing that Lara would do is keep you captive on the bed. Because, until she wakes up, Lara would not move off of you. Even if you try to move her arm from around you, she would whine and move closer to you. Luckily, Lara is an early riser.

[hestzhyen]

Analysis: Hakuri & Abusive Backstories

Hello dear void. Hakuri is a character that is near and dear to my heart so I wanted to yap about him and why his story is so important to me on a deeply personal level.

This is a LONG yapfest- the Tumblr Edit Post UI is hitching and lagging while I try to type this little notice there's so much word vomit in here. I honestly don't expect anyone to read it all the way through. I just wrote this to figure out why I was so goddamn attached to a fictional character. I spent too many hours on this to just delete it all once I found my answers though, so... if you wanna strap in, go ahead. But maybe make sure you've got a decent chunk of free time and high tolerance for extremely subjective interpretations first.

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DISCLAIMER: This is purely my opinion- I can't speak for anyone's experience but my own.

First, this isn't a trauma dump. Not for me at least. I'll be talking about what Hakuri endured and how it shaped his character in relatable ways thanks to the quality of the writing. But there won't be anything discussed outside of what happens in Kagurabachi canon, so rest assured on that front.

Second, fictional characters don't have to be 1:1 mirrors in terms of type or severity of trauma the reader experienced themselves to be helpful self-reflection tools. Please take care if you choose to read this, and make sure you're in a good frame of mind if parts of Hakuri's struggle could send you into darker places.

Third, I started writing this around chapter 53 and it's being posted as of chapter 58. If it ages poorly, well, I'm not saying I'm smart just because I yap a lot.

Without further ado... prepare for an expansion of massive proportions under the cut.

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All too often we see shounen characters have an abusive sob story background to give them a sympathetic hook and a reason to start from zero. There's little to say about them other than they go from zero to hero for the good vibes and catharsis. They begin their story as a victim first and foremost, and there are little or no lingering effects from trauma once they have their moment of triumph. In the "good" cases they're healed and whole. In the "bad" cases they have negatively warped personalities for the rest of the story. There's not much in between the two extremes.

Portraying the abuse characters endure in such a shallow way is not the best way to write about it, from my point of view. Writing it as something that can be overcome with strength of will alone is harmful. So is writing the victim as a permanently damaged, defective person. Instead, we need more characters like Hakuri that are shaped but not wholly defined by their abuse, and aren't completely healed by putting the manifestation of their torment in the dirt.

Hakuri is the first character the [abusive past] attribute that actually worked as a hook for me. This is largely due to two key writing decisions: not centering Hakuri's entire narrative around overcoming the abuse he suffered, and carefully depicting how trauma influences his actions. It's necessary to read between the lines of what he says and does to see how much he hasn't said about himself- what he won't admit or recognize, despite how core it is to his character.

Chapters 19-23, Meeting and Getting to Know Sazanami Hakuri

Mantis imagery for courage!

The very first things we learn about Hakuri are as follows:

1) He pushes through hardship with sheer force of will 2) He lost his whole family and has probably been on his own for a while 3) #1 is a lie

I've brought it up before, but food symbolism is all over the place in Kagurabachi- it's often a short-hand for comfort and connection. So Hakuri spilling that metaphor out of his mouth right after telling us he's able to "push through" is a sign that he actually isn't coping with his situation that well. His thoughts about himself and his actual status don't match up. But it's ridiculous imagery that puts us off and pushes us towards thinking he's kind of pathetic rather than making us feel sorry for him. And the rest of his introduction, while accurate to his character, buries the lede on how much he's suffering.

As for his backstory: he was disowned, yes. He says his family will kill him if they see him, yes. But it reads more like Hakuri was punished for being a moral black sheep after he himself framed being disowned as punishment for "being weak" and "getting in the way of business". There's no hint of foul play on his family's part other than being low-life criminals to be fought as the arc villains. So he's primed for some sadness but probably nothing on Char's level. The only hints we have towards something serious until the chapter 24 reveal are not exactly obvious:

-He has a fatalistic mindset and thinks it's natural for him to be overpowered and kicked around because he's weak. (Could just be typical zero-to-hero shounen character things.)

-He's generally unafraid and highly tolerant of pain. He gives no shits about his condition after being kicked around by the Yakuza, smears the blood from his nose while casually talking to Chihiro, and willingly takes a strong hit and is able to yell encouragement to Chihiro while lying bloody on the floor. (Doesn't really stand out in a series as violent as Kagurabachi; this is kind of the bare minimum for being involved in the plot if you aren't a child to be protected.)

-Perhaps the only big tell-tale sign: we zoom in on his trembling fist when describing his older siblings as "strong and scary" in chapter 23. (Could be inferred as fearing for his life since he also says they'd kill him on sight in the same chapter.)

Hakuri's not written like a typical abuse victim in this intro. We don't get commentary from other characters about how much pain Hakuri seems to be in- they comment on how weak and dopey he appears instead. Nor do we get shots of him looking sad, flinching away from touch, or being hesitant to connect with other people. He's actually kind of unhinged with how passionate and eager he is to join forces with Chihiro. He's intense and ridiculous and gets used like a wholesome gag character more than anything else.

So there's not much to suspect here. Hakuri's got more to reveal to us but there are no signs of what we should brace ourselves for. Then the nightmare starts.

Chs. 24-26, The First Glimpse

This page goes from 0 to 100 REAL quick.

Well, shit.

Behold the understated reveal of Hakuri's status as a victim of abuse. The revelation at the bottom of the page only to see his suicide attempt on the page turn is an extremely effective "oh shit- OH SHIT-" two-hit combo that arrests the reader's attention, and I really wish that it was the most memorable part of the chapter for more people. Because holy hell, this recontextualizes everything we know about Hakuri. He's still a passionate, silly, and slightly insane guy, but damn he actually suffered more than he let on.

To find out like this is unusual, isn't it? Char's situation wasn't shown right away either, but meeting her as a scruffy orphan clued us in that she was going to have a tough past from the start. Hakuri, by comparison, gave us very few obvious hints about it. It's like he doesn't want to be seen that way. He openly admits to being "weak" and "useless" but his own pain? The suffering he endured? He's totally fine pushing past it all (lies).

But we're not even close to done yet.

Note how Hakuri's focused on Soya's hands...

Hakuri's first instinct being to jump to his death says a lot. Unlike standing up for the little girl or jumping in to save Chihiro, this is a purely reactionary response. There's no room to think back to Chihiro's bravery for inspiration as those memories overwhelm him. He's terrified. So he jumps and trembles in fear as Soya tries to talk him into coming back to relive his nightmares.

We laughed at the soda spilling out of his mouth and his expressions after he got hit in the face by Hiyuki, but this is deadly serious. Hakuri isn't okay at all. He's actually in very bad condition and the way he thinks about Soya says so much.

The panel explaining Soya's expression of "love" on the page above is important, but it's not emphasized in the same way as what's happening in the present. It feels like an unpleasant detour into Hakuri's inner thoughts for extra context while the main focus is on him and Soya in the moment. Hakuri doesn't even describe what happened to him directly- he says "punching and kicking" like it could be anything from hazing to broken bones, but the backdrop lets us know that it's probably closer to the latter. It gives the impression that Hakuri (understandably) doesn't want to think about this at all.

He also frames Soya's aggression towards him as an expression of "sincere" affection. That's preposterous and heart-breaking to most people- violence isn't love. Even most victims will acknowledge that... to a point. Violence hurts, it's unwanted, but it's still a valid expression of emotion to be acknowledged. It's something they earn or deserve. The rational people are correctly screaming NO IT'S NOT! And most victims would agree again... to a point. Somehow they're the exception to that mindset. Other people don't deserve it, but they do.

So despite it all, Hakuri is still able to be brave for Hinao's sake. He's not going to let Soya hurt anyone else if he can help it, even if it means putting himself back in harm's way. This adds an interesting layer to his character. He's laden with trauma, but he's still able to show courage for others. He thinks he's weak and won't prevent whatever abuse comes his way, but he will put himself at risk to stop others from experiencing the same or worse.

Why is he so devoted to protecting other people at his own expense? Sadly, it's not uncommon for victims to advocate harder for other people than they do for themselves. It also has something to do with the merchandise woman that was mentioned this chapter, but that reasoning won't be revealed for a while yet.

"This pathetic wretch was born a Sazanami, but he can't even do sorcery. He's useless. Worse, he's a hindrance. His life is worthless."

There's another thrill of panic when Kyora summons Hakuri to use his life as a bargaining chip. Hakuri's at his most pathetic here- he's on the ground, helpless under Kyora's foot, not even trying to resist or escape. None of the fire we saw when he saved the little girl, took that hit for Chihiro, or defended Hinao is present. Hakuri can't be brave for himself. He's quite literally trampled by what passes for the Sazanami version of "love" and "basic human decency". It doesn't need to be spelled out any clearer than this: Hakuri's woes come from his family, especially his father. The Sazanamis are fucked up even when it comes to how they treat their own flesh and blood. They're rotten from the head down.

It's obvious then why Chihiro's words and actions affect Hakuri so much. Hakuri thinks he has no value whatsoever- his father says as much, and he falls for Shiba's bluff implying the same. Only Chihiro steps in to directly repudiate Kyora's toxicity and say yes, Hakuri does have value. So much, in fact, that he's willing to trade the precious memento of his father (and the majority of his strength) to prove it. So they're able to leave, but not without Hakuri encumbering himself with a huge amount of guilt for how things went down.

The face of someone ready to spiral down and out.

It's telling that reassurances don't do much to help Hakuri feel better. Shiba tries to help by offering generic comfort (ice cream) and Chihiro tells him it's alright, but it's not until Hakuri hears that he's still needed that he's able to bring himself out of the mire of self-hate.

Of course it's extra effective for Hakuri because he was considered totally useless, but this is very relatable even for folks who weren't told they had no value on a daily basis. Offers of comfort only make the self-hate worse for some people who think they're utterly worthless. Even simple gestures like Shiba's twist the knife and reinforce the idea that the person doesn't deserve any kindness whatsoever. It just piles on the guilt. But being given something to do -especially if it's believably framed as something only they're capable of doing- feels incredible. They might have some value after all, even if only for this one thing.

It's something that I really appreciate the author doing since it's a touch that didn't need to be added. Hakuri could have just found a bit of solace in Shiba and Chihiro's words, which would have given more time for other things to be addressed in the chapter. But it's important to show that Hakuri struggles with accepting kindness because he took his father's words to heart. His feelings of worthlessness and uselessness are essential to who he is.

After this we see him at Chihiro's beck and call, prioritizing his requests over everything- relaxing with Char and Hinao, even his own comfort with another ice cream/food metaphor. It's framed as something silly and dog-like for the laughs, which once again encourages us to downplay the severity of this issue for him. None of the other characters ever directly point this out either. It's one of those informed traits that influences Hakuri's actions without any acknowledgment from himself or others, but just like the soda spilling out of his mouth, we're invited to treat it as a gag.

From here, the focus shifts entirely to building tension for the raid on the Rakuzaichi. Hakuri's circumstances are put on the back-burner to simmer for 5 weeks in real time until he confronts Soya in chapter 30.

Chs. 30 & 32-34, The Soya Rematch (what Chihiro and Shiba know):

Hakuri puts his fear of Soya aside to bait him out to help the mission. Chihiro and Shiba gave him a job to do, so he'll see it through no matter what. Unfortunately things don't go as planned and he ends up all alone with his biggest tormentor.

I'll have more to say about Soya himself in his own section with Kyora later, but it's very clear what his role as Chief Bully is, narratively speaking:

In a lot of ways, Soya is more object than actual character. He's our almost cartoonishly evil device to represent everything that's been repressing Hakuri. He's the demon in his head telling him he's useless, pathetic, weak, and so on. So Hakuri trying to square up to Soya is also him facing off against the things he's internalized that hold him back.

Hakuri's struggle against Soya before he awakens seems very hopeful and standard shounen. He's fighting the internal battle at the same time as the external, telling his brother to "shut up" while his mind races to figure out what he should do now that the situation went belly-up. He could keep playing the victim and take Shiba up on his offer to help since he can't reach Chihiro, or he could play dead and wait for it all to be over... or he could try believing in himself. Because Chihiro saw something in him and even if he can't bring himself to think he's strong and capable, he can at least have faith in Chihiro's words that they would end the Rakuzaichi together.

This time it works and he's able to shove Soya close enough to the tree wall so that Chihiro can give us a great visual metaphor to show us what just happened to Hakuri:

Chihiro is the one who broke Hakuri's mental barrier for him. He couldn't do it himself, but someone he admired believing in him in return made all the difference. Hakuri just needed a little support to start coming into his own.

He stays behind to handle the rest of the fight on his own while Chihiro goes ahead to meet up with Shiba- he can do this himself now that he's awakened thanks to their help. Very wholesome, extremely shounen. But there are deliberate writing choices which make it obvious that there's more going on beyond the surface that winning this fight won't fix or even fully address.

In Chapter 32, Hakuri tells Chihiro and Shiba a slightly condensed version of his experience as an uncomfortable reminder for the reader. Oh, right, Hakuri was abused- at least that explains why he survived a Flame Bone punch to the face. Anyway, let's move on to ditching John Hishaku and kicking Soya's ass.

The framing is so interesting to me. Chapter 32 uses preexisting panels that are cropped and presented slightly differently compared to how they originally appeared: Ch. 24

Ch. 32

Full page for reference.

When Hakuri recounts a version of the abuse flashbacks, they're not merely downsized to fit. They're cropped to downplay the gang-ups and are smaller in size compared to the rest of his story, almost as if he doesn't think it's that big of a deal compared to being unable to keep up with his siblings. We don't even see his own words describing what happened despite him talking freely about everything else. Instead, the abuse sequence is treated like the panel where he describes Soya's "love"- Hakuri talking to Chihiro and Shiba about his suffering is an unpleasant aside to give context rather than the main event.

Seriously. The dialogue of him explaining why his family gave up on him over the reused backdrop of the Sazanami estate is given more time than him being hit and kicked. Chihiro and Shiba get the "it wasn't so bad" version of events compared to what Hakuri remembers experiencing, and we're invited to treat what's normally the foundation of a character's entire existence as a convenient explanation for why he's so goddamn sturdy.

Neither of them noticeably react to his story too. We got a bit from Shiba in the car in Chapter 26 when he realized Hakuri was probably stewing in self-hatred, but we've never seen any of Chihiro's thoughts or reactions since he was disgusted by Kyora using Hakuri as a bargaining chip. He does reassure Hakuri that they'll be there to help him, but isn't it strange we don't see Chihiro's reaction to this information at all? We see little panels of his concerned faces all the time for less than what Hakuri talked about here:

Chihiro cares a hell of a lot, and he's very attentive to boot.

Obviously we don't see Chihiro and Shiba's reactions because they aren't important. This isn't about Hakuri's abuse- we already knew about it. The focus is on Hakuri's awakening and his faith in Chihiro, not the past.

This is a victim's mindset manifesting as clever visual storytelling, in my opinion. Of course it's not that bad when he has to talk about it; he invited it by being weak and not living up to standards. It wasn't a big deal though. There's more important stuff to do right now anyway. And the story moves on as if to agree with him- we go right back to our regularly scheduled action scenes interspersed with some flashbacks to contextualize other characters, namely Tenri and the Sazanamis before Hakuri was rejected.

That's right, Hakuri once again dodges abusive past cliches by being doted on and cared for before he was found lacking. He knew what it was to be loved, even if the Sazanami version is manipulative to the point of being abusive all by itself. There's more to say about this under Kyora's section but no wonder Hakuri's so fixated on being useful- he wants that affection and sense of belonging back more than anything. It's fucked up, but it's all he knows. So Hakuri was abused twice over: emotionally and physically. Damn. He turned out pretty alright despite it all, huh? Wonder how that happened...

Well, it's time to move on now so he can ascend and overcome it all. He's gotta yell "Isou!" and prove himself, and the next two chapters seem to be putting him on course to do just that, albeit with some difficulty. Can't make a character's awakening too easy or it won't feel earned. He's got some serious trauma to overcome thanks to his family's bullshit.

Then chapter 35 hits and we get the nightmare fuel.

Ch. 35, The Real Backstory (what Ice Lady knew):

Chapter 35 is that long-awaited full-chapter delve into Hakuri's painful past with the mysterious woman, and boy does it have some unsettling revelations.

Ice Lady's tragedy is framed as the important driving force for Hakuri as we know him- she broke him free from his family's grip and motivated him to seek help to end their evil ways. She's the entire reason we meet him in Chapter 19. Everything Hakuri is doing this arc ties back to how badly he fucked up with her, setting the stage for him to become the savior he tried to be when we met him. Oh yeah, we got more Hakuri abuse lore. Can you believe that WSJ let the author get away with showing someone slitting their throat in front of a kid?! And make it at least partially his fault? Jesus Christ. Now it's truly time for him to come into his own, though- oh man that cliffhanger at the end of the chapter...! Wait, what do you mean there was more to his suffering besides the situation with Ice Lady?

I was being a bit facetious there but the point stands. We didn't get a tear-jerker reveal chapter dedicated solely to Hakuri's pain and suffering at long last just to make us feel bad for him and nothing else. Instead, we got a full-blown tragedy caused by the Sazanami cycle of abuse. The nightmare of Ice Lady killing herself in front of Hakuri overshadowed the reveal that damn, Hakuri actually had it super rough. Because yeah, that was unexpectedly brutal even compared to Chihiro being baited with Char's severed leg last arc. It really drove home just how fucked up the situation with the Sazanami family was and how it affected everyone that got tangled up in their bullshit.

So the presentation of what he endured is once again subdued even though the panels showcasing the tools took up half the page. Soya breaking Hakuri's finger was called "bullying" (いじめ[ijime], not 虐待 [gyakutai, abuse]). A single flash back frame off to the side seems small compared to the emphasis on Hakuri telling Ice Lady (and us) that it's "not that bad" because Soya keeps losing the tools and going back to using his fists (the terror in Hakuri's expression in that panel is completely at odds with how calm is explanation is, though). It's also not unreasonable to presume that the jump rope, peeler, and wrench were shown for the audience's benefit to clue us in that Hakuri's holding back again, much like the panel describing Soya's "love" in chapter 24. He's always saying the bare minimum and trying not to think of the rest- he buries that shit deep.

But he has to if he wants to keep going. There's no way he can sit down and process all of this right now:

Hakuri: "It's normal for my brother to break my bones and worse before he loses the tools. He usually only hits me anyway, so it's not like this happens all the time."

Woman betrayed by the man she loved to be sold at an auction as merchandise to the boy overseeing her captivity: "That's messed up!"

"This is as close as I can get to being cherished by the people who are supposed to care for and support me."

He even misses the point when he finally does open up:

"You're the one who's trapped in a cage."

This part is the hardest for me to write about, honestly. Again: I was never tortured or anything, much less hit. But this chapter is the one that made me take a good, hard look at what I went through and connect some dots. Hakuri's mindset, the things he says, the way he phrases things- that's someone who doesn't want to acknowledge that they're in a bad situation that's not their fault.

Hakuri will talk about his own worthlessness and all his defects that "invite" the abuse, but he won't acknowledge that he doesn't deserve what's happening to him at all. He's not the kind of shounen character who understands that his situation sucks and uses it as fuel to become better. Instead, he's stuck in that oh-so-relatable spiral of self-deprecating negativity that keeps victims trapped.

It's easier for Hakuri to think he deserved it for his own failings. This wouldn't be happening if he hadn't earned it somehow. He's in this situation because he's weak and any "love" is better than none at all. Then it's reinforced by the genuine helplessness and vulnerability of being too isolated to escape or know better, compacting down into dense layers of denial and self-hate that act as defensive armour against emotions that are too difficult to face. Like anger or the desire for something better. Like hope. Those are only felt on behalf of others, not himself.

At any rate, it's a bit distressing that so many people forget that Hakuri's actually a hell of a lot more complex than he was hinted to be before this chapter. He's not an innocent in all this like Char was, which is incredibly smart and realistic writing from the author. Hakuri was also an abuser himself. An accidental one, but doesn't matter when you talk to someone the way he did to Ice Lady. He didn't swing the knife but he did kill her with the same mentality that was crushing him down on the inside.

He doesn't use his suffering as an excuse for anything he does, good or bad. Not even in the sense of wanting to save others- that's all about Ice Lady and his family's terrible legacy. What happened to him isn't worth mentioning or acting on. Yet another distressingly accurate facet of a victim's mentality, unfortunately.

But this must be it. This chapter was a depressing surprise but surely there's nothing left to reveal. We had his big moment of sadness so it's only going up from here. Hakuri's going to overcome everything and it'll all be okay! Back to standard shounen powerups!

Chs. 36-43, Putting the Past to Rest (things only Hakuri knows):

Oh.

In chapter 36, the storehouse reveal somewhat overshadows all the instruments of abuse Hakuri unwittingly stored inside it. There are a lot of people who completely forgot about the objects in there during the hype of the moment, and I never get tired of seeing "WTF?!" posts and comments from folks doing re-reads of the arc. It's so easy to overlook the rope and sticks and all the other tools when you're cheering hard for Hakuri to finally, finally overcome his tragic past by putting Soya down. Worst Big Bro is gonna pay and Hakuri's ascension will be complete! ... Wait, was that a goddamn chair?

There's also a point made of Soya's defeat not being a resounding victory.

Still framing Soya's abuse as love, but it's got a bitter feel to it this time.

Hakuri is the one who gives Chihiro strength in the moment despite everything he's just been through.

We're cheering when he awakens and pressurizes Soya's guts, but then these panels remind us that there's nothing to celebrate from Hakuri's perspective. He doesn't savor finally overcoming Soya as his abuser or the manifestation of everything that's messed up about his family. There's no immediate sense that things will be okay from now on either. To Hakuri, this isn't a personal victory. It's just something that needed to be done for Ice Lady and all the victims of the Rakuzaichi.

This is a sort of capstone to Hakuri's backstory. The second-to-last new thing we learn about him is that the abuse was still somehow worse than we thought. He really, truly buries the lede when it comes to what he suffered and the writing is in cahoots with him on it. He won't even take the time to smile or feel a little relief- he's not ready for that yet. Instead he just walks past Tenri's mutilated corpse to pull Chihiro along to get the job done.

If this was a different series we might get a little more catharsis- even just the barest hint that Hakuri's gonna be just fine from now on. But this is Kagurabachi and the author fucking gets it so there's still a little more to unpack before Hakuri can have an opportunity to begin the healing process.

In chapter 37, the pain of Kyora looking away was framed as just as important to Hakuri as the fond memories of when he was loved and wanted:

"... I still wanted you to praise me, Father."

The very last thing we learn about Hakuri is that he wanted his father's love despite it all.

Hakuri ended the torment from Soya- he'll never have to worry about his skin being peeled off or getting beaten with a pipe ever again. But the cycle that caused it- and the complex feelings for the people who hurt him- aren't so easily dealt with. It's not so simple as being hurt and flipping a switch to stop feeling affection for the perpetrator. So Hakuri acknowledges that he still wanted his father's praise in spite of the years of torment the man knowingly enabled.

In the end, Kyora grants Hakuri's secret wish and acknowledges him at the very last as the chaos fades away so that they're the only thing in each other's view. He really, truly won it all. He doesn't rejoice in victory, though. Once more there's no triumph for Hakuri to celebrate. Killing his father was just another thing that had to be done so that there would never be another Ice Lady.

It's hard to say what exactly Hakuri's feeling about Kyora's death since it's yet another thing we haven't seen him talk about- and may never. It's not too much of a stretch to think he's got a complex mix of sadness, relief, and guilt going on, though. At least the moment when their eyes met was intensely cathartic after all the times Kyora deliberately looked away. But Hakuri's still not okay yet.

It's not like life suddenly gets better when the abuser is gone for good in some cases. Hakuri's still struggling in the immediate aftermath of seeing his father die at last. It's a relief that there won't be any more pain caused by the Sazanami clan -and Kyora in particular- but it still fucking hurts to lose someone so important to you. It's also frightening to suddenly be thrust into the unknown without a guide of any kind.

Fortunately for him, Hakuri is able to find new purpose with Chihiro. He gets to walk away from his family and stay with the people who believed in him. This is another thing that I can't praise the author enough for. It's far, far too common for writers to frame victims reforming their abusers as some kind of ultimate victory.

No, no, no!

The most charitable way to explain this is that the survivor is so saintly that they'll even reach out to the ones who hurt them to help them become better people. But that is such utter bullshit I don't even have the words to express myself properly. It's terrible messaging for survivors. They don't have any obligation whatsoever to help the people who hurt them. They don't even have to keep tabs on how the abusers are doing in a general sense. They get to fucking leave and find happiness with people who treat them well. That is the true ideal.

Hakuri being given a clear out to leave is where the rest of the catharsis in his story comes from. He doesn't have to stay and fix things even though he absolutely could as the first person since the clan's founder to have both Isou and the storehouse powers. Kyoura and Soya are gone- he could have stepped in to make the clan right their wrongs and atone as a family. But there's not even a hint of guilt tripping from the author about Hakuri's decision to follow Chihiro. It's framed as the best possible thing for him to do, in fact.

If he stayed, he'd never work on the other issues around self-worth that he's burying so deep inside. Switching from villainy to good deeds won't resolve the issues with the clan's mindset about being living tools for a greater cause either. Not to mention the fact that there's nothing his siblings can offer him even if they treat him like a king for the rest of his life- the damage was already done long ago. There's nothing left for him there except more misery and stagnation. He needs to go with Chihiro, his new north star, to learn how to heal.

But lest this outcome be too heartwarming, Hakuri's still not directly facing everything that he went through. Hakuri phrases working alongside Chihiro as "proving the value that [Chihiro] saw in him", not "starting over" or "making the world a better place together" or even "paying Chihiro back" by helping him on his mission. He's still trying to be useful in the service of someone else like a tool.

Hakuri's bruises are already fading; or at least they were until I had to edit this part in light of the events of chapter 56 onward. But the mental scars of the abuse are still guiding his actions and thought processes even if he doesn't acknowledge it. And that's where we come back to the torture implements still hidden in his warehouse.

Hakuri's not home free despite us collectively sighing in relief that he got his Happily Ever After, subdued as it was. He needs to face what he's been avoiding and burying so that he's not endangering Chihiro's plan and the people around him by throwing himself in danger just to be even the slightest bit useful.

Oftentimes, trauma is an invisible scar that needs to be worked around for the rest of someone's life- hence why he's still got those physical manifestations stored deep inside where only he can see and grant access. Hakuri's only just started out on the path to redemption and recovery. He needs to start addressing the guilt over Ice Lady and learn some tough lessons about self-worth before he can even begin to look further inside to those Visual Metaphor Tools.

After that, if the author's interested in continuing this part of Hakuri's character, is exposing them and what they mean to someone who can help Hakuri get rid of them. Whether that's Chihiro, Shiba, or someone else doesn't really matter. Hakuri's got a long road ahead dealing with the lingering after-effects, unlike so many of his fictional fellow survivors. He's still very much in need of a lot of support from his new found family- now more so than ever after what happened in chapter 58.

Soya and Kyora

There's something to be said about the writing for the primary abusers, too. The Rakuzaichi arc was well-received in large part to Kyora being an incredible villain and Soya being... Soya.

Soya

And the "Worst Big Brother" Award goes to...

Soya serves two primary purposes in the narrative: to contrast Hakuri's character, and be the manifestation of everything that was wrong with the clan.

Soya and Hakuri share similar looks, hand gestures, and extreme expressions but they couldn't be more different. Soya has the inverse of Hakuri's character framing: he's shown to be competent and strong, and almost everyone in-universe acknowledges him as such-we're even told he's smarter than Kyora. But he's actually quite the pathetic loser due to his freakish obsession with his "weak" little brother.

More obviously, Soya is the rotten core of the family. He's obsessive over Hakuri to an extremely alarming degree- he even refuses his duties as the next clan head and a member of the elite Tou to find and stay with Hakuri. Kyoura tells him to "stop fixating on that failure" but Soya's having none of it, he just can't let go of his "endearing" weakling of a little brother. Bullying Hakuri is what he lives for and he does it all in the name of purest love. Just like the clan lives for the Rakuzaichi and are devoted to it mind, body, and soul. They're both extremely toxic and Soya's the guy who gets to represent the deleterious effects of cleaving to abusive mentalities on individual members.

Soya's fists and words to Hakuri are the blatant messaging about what the Sazanami mindset did to him. He had that mental block preventing him from using his sorcery because he was constantly being told he was weak and useless. It was literally beaten into him as a form of love, but not all abusive mentalities need to be reinforced with violence. Soya was just there to make the point too obvious to be missed.

Hakuri's final words to Soya say it all. Soya throws a tantrum over Hakuri refusing to lay down and take the abuse any more and screams "Why won't you go down?! Why won't you die?!" Hakuri simply responds that it's because Soya "always loved [him]" and deals the final blow. He was able to recognize the strengths his family gave him through Soya's "love" but he's not grateful in the slightest (and he shouldn't be). He's simply ready to sever all ties and move on with tearing it all down now. Hakuri was finally able to accept that he didn't want or need that kind of love in his life any more.

Kyora

And the "Worst Dad" Award goes to...

Obviously, Kyoura is the key to this whole mess. He's the one who instilled his children with corrupt values, enabled Hakuri's abuse, and generally Fucked Up Big Time when it came to loving his kids properly. But he thought he was doing the right thing because what's what he went through. He was both abuser and victim himself, just like Hakuri.

This is the key part of abusive backstories that are so often missed. Abuse doesn't always come from deadbeat caretakers that hate the innocent little kid. That scenario is actually way too over represented in fiction, honestly. Abuse isn't always constant malice- it can start later in life. It can even be born from love. Ultimately, it's all too often the unintended consequence of a family haunted by the specter of the cycle. And Kyora is the perfect summary of how and why it echoes through generations.

Hakuri was loved and wanted for at least half of his life. His family might not be wholesome or have healthy attitudes about affection, but he wasn't born hated and mistreated just for existing. He was cared for to the best of his dad's ability just like Tenri and his other siblings.

Even when Hakuri failed to live up to expectations, Kyora didn't just write him off and turn him loose. He kept Hakuri around for years feeding and clothing him and let him try to do what he could. Kyora simply couldn't justify protecting him or showing love since the family ideals were so warped around being able to serve the clan's tradition. He wasn't "allowed" to love a failure, no matter how much he wanted to.

Kyoura struggled about his feelings for his "worthless son" in the flashback we saw through Tenri's PoV- he wanted Hakuri to succeed. He acted like Hakuri forced his hand to punish and marginalize him for failing too hard, not out of ill-will. And during the raid itself he was actually "bent out of shape because he used Hakuri's life as a bargaining chip", according to Enji. It wasn't even until Hakuri showed up to break into the storehouse that Kyora truly cast everything away to prioritize the Rakuzaichi. He really did love Hakuri in his own way.

Kyora was a shitty dad and person, don't get me wrong. No one should put family tradition over their child's well-being and he more than earned his death just by being a human trafficker. But it's clear that Kyora wasn't written to be a shallow, irredeemable monster of a person- he didn't exist in the story just to be a villain and to make us feel bad for Hakuri. He's a tragic character in his own right.

He couldn't even understand why his wife's final words about the auction ruining their lives was replaying in his head near his final moments. The what-if scenario of his happy family sitting down to eat dinner in an apartment somewhere showed his longing for something that he could have had, if not for the goddamn auction. If not for the abuse that made him into the person he chose to be until the very end.

It's why Hakuri getting to walk away is such a poignant end to the Rakuzaichi arc. He's the one who gets to break the cycle on his own terms, and that's the true end of the Sazanami dynasty. The auction hall doesn't collapse until he decides to stand tall and follow a new path. Whatever Hakuri's siblings do with the Sazanami legacy isn't his concern any more- he's free.

What About Char?

Char's story was also well told! It's the earliest evidence that the author actually gets it when it comes to depicting abuse victims. She's reticent despite her desperation, unable to open up even when Shiba and Chihiro tell her she needs to or they'll send her to an orphanage. Eventually Chihiro wins her trust through his altruism and she comes to believe in him. She and us are the only ones who know exactly what happened with her mom, but it's not important for the rest of the cast to be in on it. She's safe and happy now and that's enough.

Even though Char's arc ended close to that overly-simplistic "everything is k now" scenario that I hate, there's one key difference that sets it apart to let us know that no, she's not truly okay yet.

Char's still got some attachment issues, which makes perfect sense. She lost her mom in a traumatic way so of course she's happily surprised that Chihiro came back to her. Char's on the path to healing- she's able to thrive thanks to Team Goldfish's care- but her abusive past still shapes who she is in small ways like this.

I doubt we'll see more development of her beyond checking in now and then. She's too young to be consistently involved in the heavy themes of Kagurabachi's story, much less the fights. But it's good to know that the author includes little details like this so we don't assume Char's 100% fine now. He understands that trauma doesn't just vanish when the victim's safe in their Happily Ever After scenario. That's why he made sure we knew that she's going to be okay in the long-run.

Ch. 26, right after Chihiro trades Enten for Hakuri

But Hakuri's not there himself yet.

Food as a metaphor for comfort, security, and/or connection is constant in this series. It's very obvious symbolism to let the author convey a bit more context in the scene than dialogue alone can. So when Hakuri rejects food here, he's rejecting reassurance from Shiba. Meanwhile Char's already comfortable enough to accept it. Good for her, truly!

Hakuri's situation wasn't necessarily worse than hers, but it was a lot more complex. So even though he's safe now, he's not really able to pursue his happiness yet. All those tools he keeps locked up inside, the mindset of being one himself- they're still issues for him to work through. But there's hope for him too.

The author went out of his way to show us that Hakuri's also on the path to healing here. The last time Hakuri shared food with someone, he was forcing his abusive ideology on Ice Lady. She started finishing the meals and truly internalizing the hopelessness of her situation. He fucked up the food as comfort/connection metaphor bad with her.

Yet in Chapter 47, we see Hakuri sharing some snacks with Chihiro on the train. Sharing food isn't connected to the situation at hand or the information dump it's serving as backdrop for, so it's definitely a deliberate choice on the author's part to depict this instead of literally anything else. It was shown to let us know that Hakuri's on his way to his own Happily Ever After.

He's able to connect to Chihiro and not worry about the repercussions. This is a huge step for his character and speaks volumes about the level of trust between them; this is the first time Chihiro's willingly accepted food from someone else too. Hakuri's not only still reaching out to other people, he's still able to provide warmth to others despite it all.

What's Next?

I'm not going to pretend that I can predict what Hakuri's story will look like from here on out. He'll have a hard time for as long as he's slated to get development though- Kagurabachi takes the adage "suffering builds character" very seriously. We're only 58 chapters in as of finally posting this so it's best to strap in and expect a lot more pain.

That said, I feel like Hakuri's self-sacrificing mindset is going to be addressed first. As of chapter 55, he's set up to fail and cause problems by throwing himself into danger despite not being fully healed or rested. The root of this issue would likely be his atoning savior mindset. Hakuri needs to protect and save others very badly after what happened to Ice Lady. He also loathes the idea of others making sacrifices for his sake. So he's willing to throw his life away even when it would be better for his allies if he stayed out of the fighting.

There's also a good reason we met the Makizumi clan in the arc immediately after the Rakuzaichi fell- Hakuri needs to start dismantling the "tool" mindset that was drilled into him. He's only switched his fervor from serving the Rakuzaichi to serving/saving others. This is extremely toxic when combined with his guilt over Ice Lady and drives him to go to extremes to do good, to the point where he's ignoring everyone trying to get him to rest and heal for the sake of the mission if nothing else.

In essence, I believe we are going to finally address the lie of his introduction- that he can keep pushing through hardship with sheer force of will. Because that is not how overcoming trauma actually works.

After that, only the author and his editor know exactly where things will go. But I hope that no matter what happens, Hakuri's lingering trauma is exposed and dealt with. It's informing all of his actions, positive or negative, whether he wants to acknowledge it or not. I have faith that this author can tackle this subject compassionately and realistically- he's already done it twice with Char and the Rakuzaichi arc.

So that's that. If you read all this... thanks. Take care, and choose kindness for yourself for today.

[harrisonarchive]

George Harrison and Tom Petty at the Long Beach Grand Prix in 1989 and 1994. Photos by Richard Creamer/Celebrity Photo, © 1989 Celebrity Photo Agency and courtesy of Genesis Publications.

“We had an immediate connection. We were really good friends and our families were friends. […] [T]he kids formed lifetime friendships. It was a nice thing. Adria used to stay with George and his family at Friar Park. He told her something that he had never mentioned to me, which is that he had a cousin from Florida who reminded him of me. Before George was really settled at Friar Park, he and this Florida cousin would sleep in every room in this, well, this castle, trying to figure out which one had the best vibe and ought to be the bedroom.” - Tom Petty, Runnin’ Down A Dream (2007) “George came along, and we just got so close; it was like we had known each other in some other life or something. We were pals within minutes of meeting each other. I remember him saying to me a couple of days after we’d known each other — he’s just hugging me, holding me, saying, ‘Tommy, you’re in my life now whether you like it or not.’ It was like I’d been sent the very person I needed. He healed a lot of wounds.” - Tom Petty, Petty: The Biography (2015) “‘Almost as soon as we met them, we spent more time with Tom and Jane Petty than with anyone but the Keltners,’ says Olivia Harrison. ‘They were family. We had Christmases together. They came to Friar Park. We’d just hang out, for hours and hours, with Dhani and Adria and Annakim playing together, staying up way too late, probably. Tom and George playing guitars and ukuleles. Between George, Tom, and Jane — a lot of cigarette smoke. But we had fun. We got very close. I think it was a lot of fun for Tom. And George had never met anyone quite like Tom. George with his Liverpudlian accent and Tom with his drawl, there was something connecting them, some common element.’” - ibid (x)

[rosegoldenatlas]

Dear all fans of Joel Smallishbeans, here is your weekly reminder that C!Joel is definitely a fae who is desperately trying to learn how to lie to fit in with everyone else.

Reasoning/evidence:

Look me in the eyes and tell me he doesn't give dragonfly vibes

He pulls tricks a lot! You know what else does that??? Fae!

He's a bad liar, fae trait.

He's a smol boy

His character traits change in fandom and canon spaces to match with the biome or habitat he's in. Body changing to fit nature?? Nature fae moment.

He has pulled so many people so fast, you know what creature is known to be inhumanly beautiful and charismatic? That's right. Fae.

Pretending to be a god is such a faerie move.

In esmp s2 he was the one to make Jimmy a sentient toy and convinced the entire server to play along. Fae curse also fae move.

Esmp s1 he was unaffected by Xornoth's magic, I dunno about you but that sounds like fae bullshit to me :/

Esmp s1 again, he worshipped a MOTHER TREE that BROUGHT LIFE to HIM AND HIS ENTIRE AREA. If you need a reminder, FAE ARE BORN OF PLANTS 9 TIMES OUT OF 10 AND FIERCELY PROTECT NATURE SURROUNDING THEM.

Esmp s1 again, He brought nature an plants into a mesa. Like c'mon man. He's a fae.

Esmp s1 again again, he hated Scott, a canon faerie from what I assume to be the winter court? (Judging by Rivendell) Joel would probably be from the summer court. Obviously as both are on two ends of the extremes they wouldn't clash very well.

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

Fae Joel lore and my 'evidence' aka fuck you he's a fae.

Joel is a summer court fae! Which also means he is Seelie. My reasoning for this is a combination of two things: personality traits and aesthetic

For personality he aligns with a lot of the Summer fae traits, he is kind and more benevolent than a fae from the Unseelie courts but is still capable of a lot more cruelty than the spring court. Fae of the summer court usually are rather frivolous and hotheaded. They hold politeness and manners highly but not as high as say the spring court. Fae from the summer court are more willing to cut losses and not force life. (Ex if the see a dying animal they would be quicker to put it out of its misery and feed it to another animal rather than spent long hours of trying to save it. They acknowledge death as a part of life and see more of the negative side of things but still choose to focus of positive aspects. Summer fae tend to lead a more arrogant and hedonistic lifestyle but do not enjoy pleasure at the expense of another happiness. They are more willing to spend time helping another than themselves.

As for aesthetic: Summer court colors are Forrest greens of healthy plants and rich golds an oranges of the sun, they also lean towards richer pinks and reds than spring fae. So you know, Mezalea, Stratos, his normal green?

----------

Headcanons to go with Fae!Joel

-Joel is definitely a fae who will spend decades learning how to lie like other creatures. He's still terrible at it because fae can't lie, but he has spent so much of his life around humans and other creatures able to lie that he has the capacity for sarcasm and white lies. He's still working on real lying though (see: Secret Life smp)

-He is immortal until proven otherwise.

-He's a dragonfly based fae with wings and antennae to match

-When Scott killed him in third life he definitely damaged Joel's wings and Joel wasn't able to heal them until he was off server. So he didn't really like him.

[your-local-glowstick]

✨INTRODUCTION POST✨

Hi, I'm Will Solace, Son Of Apollo, Head Counsellor of The Apollo Cabin, and Head Medic!

Here are my friends/boyfriend!

Leo Valdez- @r3pairb0y - he's pretty cool, I don't know him that well, but he's in the infirmary a lot (I'm side eyeing you Valdez). He's one of the main Seven from the Prophecy, and he helped take down Gaia in an explosion! We all thought he was dead for a while, which wasn't very nice, Valdez! Son of Hephaestus!

Nico di Angelo- @victory-of-the-angels - I love him! he's my boyfriend, my everything. He travelled through Tartarus and was captured by the twin giants, but luckily the Seven managed to rescue him before anything seriously bad could happen. He still has PTSD and a little bit of internalised homophobia, but we're working on it with Mr. D. He travelled with Reyna halfway across the world the deliver the Athena Parthenos, which ended up saving the day. he has some eating problems, but as said, we're working on it. He is prince of the Underworld and the Ghost King! Son of Hades!

Hazel Levesque- @sparkling-gems - She's so sweet. She's Nico's sister, and is possibly one of the nicest people I've ever met. That being said, do not underestimate her. she is feisty. Mess with anyone she loves, you have it coming for you. She is the daughter of Pluto, and is currently dating Frank Zhang, son of Mars. She is very powerful, despite what others might say. One of the Seven, I love her <3

Frank Zhang-no roleplayer yet- He's very nice. I'm not all that close to him, but he does hand out with Hazel a lot and seems very chill. Son of Mars, Praetor of The Twelfth Legion, Member Of The Seven. He is currently dating Hazel, they're very sweet together. He's like a giant teddy bear, the softie!

Annabeth Chase- @annie--bell - She's scary. I'm joking haha, she's one of the nicest people you'll meet. Just don't get on her bad side! Member of The Seven, Daughter of Athena, and Architecture of Olympus! During the first war, Annie took a knife for her soon-to-be-boyfriend Percy Jackson, and I helped heal her. She is one of the toughest people I know, she made it through Tartarus!

Percy Jackson- @s0n-of-the-sea - Son of Poseidon, Hero Of Olympus, Member of the Seven, Tartarus survivor, he's got it all! Percy is the chillest person ever, but man is he a DEMON on the battle field. After all he's been through, he just wants to be a normal teenager. I get it. I mean, he fell into hell for his girlfriend. dam dude. I don't see much of him and Annabeth since they're currently at New Rome University!

Piper McClean- @glammerqueen - I love her personality, I love her style, I love everything about her. Daughter of Aphrodite and Member of the Seven! She is a beast with charm speak. She has some kind of unbreakable bond with Leo, and I'm not even sure if they know what their relationship is at this point. She was dating Jason Grace, but they broke up on good terms. She is currently dating a girl names Shel! I don't know much about her, but she seems so nice.

Jason Grace- no roleplayer yet -Son of Jupiter, Member of the Seven! I honestly haven't spent that much time with him, but I know Nico loves him like a brother. He and Leo seem... very close (in love) but we don't talk about it :3

Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano- @the-daughter-of-bellona - I don't know her very well, but from what I've heard she's awesome! She was there for Nico through some of his darkest moments, and I love her for that.

Grover Underwood- @undxrwxxd - he's pretty cool! once again, don't know him that well, but I know he's very close with Percy and Annabeth. He helped a lot during the first war, and is currently dating a tree nymph named Juniper! He gave Nico and I a pep talk before we went to Tartarus, which was nice <3

Thalia Grace - @artemiss-favorite-hunter - Jason's sis!! She seems really cool, I like her style!! Hunter of Artemis, gives off queer vibes. I'd really like her to visit camp more!! Her and Percy's friendly rivalry is funny as hell

Meg McCaffery - @meg-mccaffery-toa - pretty chill!! very angry young girl, can't blame her tbh. she's actually pretty funny, I love when she rags on Lester (sorry dad)

That's all for now folks!

(OOC: I will add people as they come and their blogs, if any of you want to join, just dm me or @r3pairb0y )

[yellowocaballero]

What are your thoughts on dan da dan?

Catching up on asks in the airport after a holiday yet again. I have so many to answer but I'll get to them, promise!

I love Dandadan!!! It's so much fun. I'm not completely caught up (I spent the holiday watching the Netflix One Piece (Love it, it's so cute???) and Kolchak the Night Stalker (Chicago themed media that takes place in the already Chicago themed Chicago)). But I enjoy about two anime a year, and Dandadan was one of them! This was actually a rich year of enjoying three anime - Dungeon Meshi, Frieren, and Dandadan.

I'm just very weak for 'plucky teens form a monster of the week ghost hunting club' anime. Haruhi-induced brain damage from an early age. But what I usually end up really liking is when the spirits/ghosts/yokai are used to convey something about the characters and about being human. Teen action media is best when it's about externalizing the horrors of being a teen into a physical conflict, and ghosts can be a very pathos-filled way of showing physical danger as a result of emotional pain. I think good Ghost/Yokai/Spirit hunting media also gets creative with the resolution of the conflict - if the conflict is the result of some sort of externalized suffering, then the monster cannot be fought purely by physical means and usually requires some level of resolution of a character's personal arc. It's pretty common plot-wise for characters to need to grow in order to solve the problem (that's how stories work.), but in shonen that emotional growth is very commonly directly linked with physical strength and the resolution is purely in Winning The Fight. In good Hip Teen Ghost Hunting Media, that growth is about reaching a level of empathy and kindness required to heal others and resolve the pain of an enemy. Good Hip Teen Ghost Hunting Media is kind, and is about showing kindness.

Dandadan is good Hip Teen Ghost Hunting Media. It gets this. It's more action focused than some others, but it stays very solidly in touch with an emotional heart. Because the story is REALLY about Momo and Otakun, and making a friend when you've been very lonely, and being kind of a dick when you really don't mean to be. Intimacy as achieved through ghost hunting and losing all of your clothes all the time. The show's momentum so far is entirely on the relationship between Momo and Otakun, to the extent where it's actually remarkably focused, but that relationship is strong enough to carry the show. Just entirely on the basis that the two kids want to be together when they're apart, and they want to share themselves with each other, and they're afraid that they love the other person more than the other person loves them. Good ghost hunting shows are about empathy and learning to care about others, and Momo and Otakun pour all of that into each other. It's also a very insane mix of being very sexual without being erotic, which is a big part of its general vibes of 'the messiness and stupidity and awkwardness of teenage first love'. Overall, Dandadan comes off as a very sincere show because it is so honest in showing first love as a teenager.

Fight scenes also extremely good, partly because I love seeing Momo and Otakun (whose battle forme is so banger) be such a seamless team. And partly because fight scenes are very good. Love the music and animation. All round very good 8/10, lots of affection for it, will be reading the manga after the anime S1 wraps up.

[neat-crows]

For some reason I've seen a lot of people disliking the way Jessica Jones season 1 ends. The vibe I've seen is that it wasn't epic enough, it was underwhelming, and that it was too simple and fast and Killgrave would be too smart to fall for it. etc etc.

I think these takes miss the point though. This is the only way he could have gone out, BECAUSE it wasn't an attempt to outsmart him at all.

The whole point is that Killgrave wasn't an epic villain, he was a weird misogynistic little control freak that was obsessed with owning Jessica because he couldn't stand that she was her own person.

The whole season is a game of cat and mouse between them, and you can see just how smart both of them are - they are both equally powerful and intelligent, BUT killgrave literally didn’t need to be doing this at all! He could have left ANY time, he didn’t have to send Hope after her, he could have left before the house, or after he escaped, or after the nightclub, literally WHENEVER

His obsession with controlling Jessica was always his downfall

She was the executioner, but in the end he brought it all on himself

He didn’t get an epic ending because it’s not ABOUT him and because he didn’t need one. It was never about outsmarting or overpowering him, it was about his incessant need for control and Jessica making a decision.

And it works SO WELL not just because it makes good commentary, but also because it mirrors exactly how Killgrave tried to get her to bend to his will; both of them aimed for each other’s emotional weak point - but killgrave failed because he doesn’t actually know or understand Jessica at all, just the version of her he made up in his head and made her play act like a little doll for him

He thinks her weakness is a hero complex, because the first time they meet she’s saving Malcolm from some muggers and killgrave asks her if it felt good to beat up those men, she says yes, and when he asks why she says

“Because I helped someone”

And he’s such an inherently selfish person that to him that translates to a hero complex - He can’t imagine a person who just wants to save people, not to bolster their self worth or to in some way help theme selves. He’s spent his entire life only doing things because he wanted to, because it brought HIM satisfaction, that the idea that someone might willingly do Anything that’s not to make them feel better doesn’t even cross his mind.

And that’s why at the house he shows her the (curated) videos of his childhood, why he “respects” her wishes about not hurting the nosy neighbor, why he goes and saves that family with her, and is genuinely helpful. His tactic to get her to stay with him is to show her how his powers can be used for good, show her he’s also a person who can experience pain and love and joy, and then make her ‘realize’ if she stays with him she could make him a hero and good person. Because he thinks she will sacrifice herself for him and for society if he presents it as a way to atone and heal her guilt.

But Jessica refuses. She betrays him and takes her own route while knowing if she had given up all her autonomy she could have made him a good person and saved countless lives. (I don’t think this was ever actually achievable but she believed it was so the point stands)

Jessica jones has a lot of problems, but a hero complex isn’t one of them.

But Jessica jones DOES know his weakness, his real weakness, her. Controlling the only person who could defy him. And yes it is an obvious and see through plan - Killgrave even calls it out! But then in order to prove she’s faking what does he do? He assaults Trish - and when she continues following his orders he FULLY believes it and completely lets down his guard.

Why? It’s such an obvious trick! He’s supposed to be clever!!!! Well it worked so well because he clearly WANTED to believe it so bad (self admittedly), he was drunk on his own power, he wanted to believe his own strength and he wanted to own Jessica again. But also because again

He thinks Jessica has a hero complex

Her allowing this to happen to her friend ? Jessica jones would never do this! He knows her so well! She just Can’t Help but Help people! If she was faking her helplessness this would have broken her out of it! (Also there’s the whole level of the jealousy he has of Trish and the love Jessica and Trish share but that’s for another post)

And so he dies, small, unable to speak, not being told he’s loved, with a simple snapped neck from a cheap, unplanned ploy, that was thought up on the spot. Just as he deserved.