#tw threat of SA

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 6

“We’re out of time.” | Collapse

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Contains: magic/fantasy whump, restraints, psychological whump, taunting, magic side effects (exhaustion, nosebleed), death wish, verbal threat toward a loved one (not present) vaguely alluding to noncon/SA

WC: 940

Deadness where there had before been life

The door to the seer’s room burst open.

“You’re going to find someone for me.” It was the prince, of course. He slammed the door behind him. “And I’m not feeling especially patient this morning, so you’d better make it quick. I’m not in the mood to have my time wasted.”

The seer rose warily from the pitiful palette they expected him to believe was a bed, watching the prince stride toward him. His foe certainly seemed different: angrier than usual, agitated. What, precisely, was the hurry? He acted like he was running out of time for . . . something. But why?

It seemed . . . wrong. Ominous.

“The northerner you saw before.” The prince flung a gold chain at the seer, forcing him to fumble to catch it. “He severed the magic on this. Find him for me. Now.”

Severed the magic . . .

The seer stared down at the bracelet which had, until recently, adorned his sister’s wrist. So, its curse had been broken.

The northerner you saw before . . .

A cursebreaker?

Frowning, the seer dared a curious glance between the broken bracelet and the prince’s face.

“I’m waiting.”

Hot, pulsing anger, tinged with apprehension, flooded through the seer. His visions had been unreliable of late, and more taxing, and they were only getting worse. Five years of practice should have honed his skills. Instead, the passage of time—and all the anguish it had wrought—seemed now to be taking its toll.

Even so, the seer knew he was powerless to refuse. No matter how much he wanted to fling the useless bracelet into the prince’s face. No matter how much he wanted to demand news of his sister. To know if there had been retribution for this broken curse. If that retribution had fallen disproportionately on her.

He closed his eyes, fingers clutched around the frail gold chain. The other hand, the one missing two digits, unconsciously curled into a tight, malformed fist.

He hated his gift still. After all this time, the dizzying foray into the lives of others, the sickening voyeurism into their memories, their dreams, their most private moments . . .

It tore at his soul.

No matter how many times he put himself through it, he remained convinced that constantly splitting himself into a million shapeless fragments and then stitching himself back together piece by piece would bring about his end.

The vision rushed over him, indistinct and watery at first, then growing clearer. A party. A ball. There’s to be a festival, she’d said during her weekly visit. He recalled, as if from another lifetime, the extravagance and frivolity of the vernal equinox, and the celebration that came with it. But his sister was there—dressed in brilliant, sanguine red. Why? What was this? A dream of hers, or a memory?

Shouldn’t be here.

Wracked with guilt, he flinched, sweat beading on his brow.

Find him. Not her. Him. The one who severed the magic.

There—there. A man approaching, tanned, smiling uncertainly. An awkward, loping gait, a nervous bow. Who? Why? The man. That man. Familiar. Older. Here. Dancing, stumbling, laughing.

The seer’s corporeal body twitched uncomfortably. His sister, she laughed, too. Quietly, gently, but earnestly. Lips brushed against fingers held aloft. Balcony. Stars. Flowers. Alarm. Fear. A kiss. A kiss? The seer balked, but he couldn’t escape, not while lost in the thrall of his vision. He watched, his heart bleeding, as his sister fled with tears in her eyes and the stranger gaped down at a broken piece of metal in his palm.

Find him.

Find him.

Pain surged through him, digging into his body with white-hot spikes, as he forced the vision to shift. Find. Follow. Raised voices and worry. A bitter, metallic taste at the back of his throat. I have to find her. Find her. Find him. The words mingled, nauseating, too loud. Pain in his skull, poison on his tongue. Find her.

A lonesome sunrise. A gold charm. Deadness where there had before been life. Find her. A setting sun, blood-red. A wrought-iron gate, barred. Find him.

“I’m going to find her!”

The seer’s eyes flew open, the vision fading. It felt like dying, like inconsolable loss, like bleeding out with nothing to staunch the flow of blood.

His legs gave out beneath him.

“He’s not far,” he rasped. “He’s looking for a way in. Looking for . . .”

I have to find her.

“Tonight,” he said. “He’ll be outside. South gate. Sunset.”

The prince’s face was pitiless as he stared down at the shaking form on the floor, then wrested the gold bracelet from his grasp. “You’re certain?”

The seer nodded, still trying to catch his breath. A hot trickle down his face told him his nose was bleeding. 

“You grow more pathetic by the day,” the prince said. “The day your usefulness runs out, you know I’ll have you killed, right?”

The seer knew.

If only that day would come a little more swiftly.

“Still,” said the prince, “you’ve turned out to be more valuable than your worthless whore of a sister.”

The seer lurched forward, but the chain on his ankle snapped taut. He opened his mouth to hurl obscenities instead.

His voice was gone.

“Then again, I knew that from the start,” said the prince. “That cursebreaker better be in my possession by tonight, or I’ll give your sister to someone who will find a use for her.”

No voice, no strength, no weapon, no way to launch an attack.

The seer spat at the prince’s feet.

The prince scoffed as he opened the door and made to leave, pausing only to say one thing more before he vanished.

“Oh. That’s right. I already did.”

June of Doom Masterlist

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@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[ink-and-dagger]

YAY! ✨✨ Okay uh 5 and 12 :D

12.) Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

It's not a trope as such, but I never used to understand the appeal of Modern AUs. I'm a huge fantasy lover, and to me it was madness to want to drop these amazing characters into our mundane world. But the past year or so I've started to understand the potential of a good modern AU. It offers an opportunity to think about how your favourite characters would interact with the world we're accustomed to.

Putting the next question below a cut because my answer includes mention of violence/torture and an insinuation/threat of sexual assault

5.) What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic]? Answer it now!

Well I think someone actually did ask me this yonks ago but I never gave an answer at the time, and no one has asked since...

What did Garrett do/say in DWM Chapter 4 that made Silco kill him with his bare hands?

We know that Silco looms over Garrett with a knife, and Reader/Astrid hears his first screams as she's walking away with Sevika.

What happened in the warehouse is this.

Silco tortures Garrett. He's meticulous with his blade, attempting to slice answers from the man pertaining to his territory, resources, staff/existing loyalties etc. It's no secret that Silco will eventually kill him. There's no other potential outcome. It's simply that he wishes Garrett's death to be slow and painful, and if he is able to glean any useful information in the meantime then that's a bonus.

Garrett doesn't play ball. Pretty much just spends his time screaming. Stupid as he is, even he knows his fate is sealed. Though it must come to a point where his level of suffering outweighs his fear of death, because that's when he starts trying to goad Silco into losing control.

Doesn't take long for Garrett to find the pressure point.

G: Pretty thing; your new barkeep. [Silco's jaw tightens] G: [sniggers] How much extra you paying for the pleasure of her company each Friday? S: Careful, boy. There is still plenty of time to send you to your grave with further regrets to your name. G: The only regret I have is not taking your new little toy for an extra spin around the block.

Silco sees red.

And I'm sure you don't need me to describe what happens next.

Garrett's face is unrecognisable when Silco is done. Little more than ground meat.

In all likelihood the young man will have died partway through the battering. Silco wasn't keeping track. He only stopped because his lungs and muscles insisted.

It takes a few minutes for Silco to catch his breath enough to stand again and address his staff.

S: Send the body back to the family. Ensure it's delivered in pieces.

Writer ask game.

[fcthots]

Can I request 27. "I'm going to carry you, okay?" with an angsty dash of 5. "You don't have anything to be sorry for." please?

You shouldn't have been out.

You should have never left your apartment, especially not in the middle of the night, especially when Jason didn't know you left, but you just wanted to go on a short walk, but one wrong turn turned your short walk into a very long one.

You could hear a few things: the beating of your heart, the sound of your feet hitting the ground as you ran, the sound of their feet running after you, shouting from behind you.

"Get your ass back here or I swear to God, we're gonna fucking kill you!"

Fuck. You just had to go on a walk to clear your head. You just had to get lost. You just had to forget your phone. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You were running so hard you could barely breathe. You were faster than them, but not by much, and you couldn't keep it up. You were terrified, shaking, slightly crying. You tried screaming, but no one came. You were lost, alone, scared, and being chased. You wished more than anything that you never left your apartment. You wished you just called Jason to calm down, but you didn’t want to bother him. Regret. Regret. Regret.

You've basically run in one big circle, trying to get anywhere near your apartment, but you were so lost. That street sign, though was familiar, but more than that you had passed it before; something else.

Oh.

Oh no.

You knew the name on that street sign because Jason was telling you about it earlier

...in reference to a trafficking case.

Your heart sank. Their footfalls match the erratic beating of your heart. You were tired. You couldn't keep this up forever and they knew the territory. It seemed you were at every disadvantage.

You turned a corner. You had this one chance to lose them. You use all of your remaining energy to run into the gap between the closed down corner store and apartment complex,

and promptly trip on the uneven concrete. Yeah, you pulled something.

And with your absolutely stellar luck, you picked the one alley that was a dead end.

"Fucking finally. Nowhere to run now. I think we should take our time with this one. She made us waste all that time chasing her, what's a little more?"

You open your mouth to beg for your life, but the words won't come out. You try to get up but you collapse again. You use your good leg to move yourself against the wall.

The three men laugh as they slowly approach you, taunting you. They smile and joke at the tears you didn’t notice were falling. You try to think of any possible escape route, but come up empty. One pulls out a gun and you try not to look at it.

"You really thought you could just run away, huh?"

"You can scream as loud as you want. No one is coming."

The third man laughs. "Don't say that. The screaming is fucking annoying."

They get closer to you and you feel the sweat trickle from your hairline.

Everyone's heads turn when there's a loud thud outside the alley.

You aren't exactly focused on it, but it makes them temporarily stop, so you're thankful for it.

"Marcus, go check it out."

"Fuck you. Why do I have to it?"

"Be louder, why don’t you? Quit being a bitch and go."

'Marcus' leaves with a string of curses. The attention is turned back to you again, with impatient smiles and twisted laughter, but not for long.

They make it about two more steps before Marcus yells and there's a crunch and thud.

The two men stop dead in their tracks. Communicating as if with eye contact, one nods, and the other begins to walk slowly along the wall of the alley with his gun raised until he turns the corner. While the first man tries to split his attention between you and his friend, his friend screams.

The last man turns towards you. He rushes forward in an attempt to grab your arm, presumably to drag you, but he never gets that chance.

There is a loud thunk to the back of the man's head before he's on the floor. You look up and see a red helmet.

You don’t think you've ever been happier to see that shiny red.

"Hey, it's ok. It's just me. I wasn't gonna let anything happen to you, I promise. You're safe now."

You try to say his name as he rushes over to you but it comes out as more of a pathetic and terrified whimper.

"Are you hurt?"

You nod your head and watch him freeze.

"Where?"

You drag your leg out from underneath you. He sighs in relief. His shoulders hunch forward, his forehead knocking against yours. He lands a helmet kiss there.

"C'mon. Let's get you home. I'm going to carry you, okay?"

Before you could even think about attempting to reply, he has you scooped up in his arms. He takes a deep breath in and out and locks eyes with you.

"You ok?"

"no fatal injuries"

He hums in acknowledgement. The walk is quiet. Too quiet. You don’t remember most of the walk. The adrenaline wearing off was making you tired, but Jason's silence concerned you. You shouldn't have gone out alone, it was dumb, but you couldn't handle a fight with Jason right now. That's probably why he was being quiet, he’s mad at you, but knows you don’t wanna fight. He was being so sweet, but to be honest all you wanted was comfort. You can't take him being distant right now.

Fuck it. You can't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry."

He stops on the outside of you apartment complex's elevator, moving to look at you.

You open your mouth to speak again but he cuts you off. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"Aren't you mad?"

"I could never be mad at you."

"But you're being all silent."

"I thought you'd want space. Do you not?"

"...no... I want comfort..."

"Alright. And I'm not mad at you. Never mad at you. That wasn't your fault, ok? I was brooding just now because I was scared at the thought of losing you. I love you. So much."

"I love you too."

[konigsblog]

crazy, how the majority of my haters are either hypocrites, or are just straight up LYING. lmfao, i've written rape before and i apply appropriate warnings, but i've never ever written PEDOPHILIA. 😬

their username on tumblr is @asgardswinter, they have continuously mentioned me on their blog. it's literally creepy and clearly obsessive, lmfao, and lying about me writing pedophilia is real fucking weird considering they don't apply any further context or include any evidence to back up this claim...

i'd appreciate it if you reported their twitter account or blog for like harassment 😮‍💨

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

“we’re the PEACEFUL AND RESPECTFUL ppl who actually love elain and would never ship HER with an abuser, wishing abuse on elain is DISGUSTING and so are you if you ship her with AN ABUSER”

oh that’s not…

[skepticalpigeon]

Hoping this won't be an unpopular take in the circles I run in but it is never ok to send rape threats to any woman (or anyone else, but this is almost exclusively targeted at women). I don't care if she's complicit in or supporting her own oppression or someone else's - the moment you start justifying/encouraging/threatening rape you are now a party at fault. Rape is never justified, and saying someone deserves to be raped is essentially saying they deserve to be sexually violated as well as the victim of what is and should be considered a hate crime.

[separatist-apologist]

I also didn't block toxic people and their tags and content from the other side, just for the people on my side to repost said content in our tags.

I'm trying to have some peace and fun in the fandom but how am I suppose to do that when it's my own people that disturb it 😭

I 1000% agree with you. Sensitive content under the cut.

It's the sharing screenshots of death/rape threats for me- every week, a new anonymous blog makes those and then people RUSH to share it so even if you didn't see it (and I almost never do), you're forced to see 7 in a row. Like your triggers are your responsibility etc etc but people aren't even TAGGING it while they giggle and laugh over not being added to a troll list.

I don't want to see it. I have people blocked/filtered but if other people take screenshots and don't appropriately tag it, the filtering system DOES!!! NOT!!! WORK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Additionally, and I'm going to say this and I genuinely do not care if it makes people angry, but being an elucien does NOT mean you automatically hate exriel. I don't have the exriel tag blocked because I enjoy the ship, and I don't see how the endless parade of anti exriel is somehow pro elucien. It has literally nothing to do with elucien, first of all.

There are a fair number of multishippers trying to just vibe and the environment in the last six or so months has made it feel WILDLY unfun to even engage with elucien. I read a post not that long ago discussing what a "real" elucien was which excluded ME by the posts definition, a proposition so amusing there is no point in taking it seriously and YET people still write out these posts with no consideration of the community or the fellow creatives they're just shitting all over in their rush to condemn other shippers.

Ultimately, since I'm on my hIgH hOrSe again- if this is how people want to engage in the fandom (see: bullying), that's certainly their prerogative. I am tired of pretending this is how fandom just IS, though, and the rest of us need to shut the fuck up about it. It certainly is not how fandom needs to be and also people aren't absolved of their fucked up behavior simply because they ship the "right" thing.

If nothing else- everyone else can see this. Your circle of friends might think its hilarious but the community at large, it's genuinely embarrassing. You can be passionate about your ship, your media, your hobby without making everyone else feel badly about it 24/7

[evasive-anon]

Everyone always wants to talk about Tim at Titans Tower or the decapitations when they bring up Jason being unhinged but no one wants to talk about that random lead goon who got a flare shoved up his ass.

Also:

[proshipwanderer]

nobody supports irl rape/csa/other forms of SA more than an anti.

[sorrowful-hyacinth]

Two Sides of The Same Coin

[Previous / Next] — {Masterlist}

Content: TW Restraints, TW SA Threat, TW Knifepoint, TW Threats of Violence, TW Fear, Siren Whump, Sadistic Whumper, Defiant Whumpee.

+++

Malik made sure to keep the crew below deck for the night. Not wanting to give the siren any attempts at enchanting his men with his singly voice. He knew his crew could be slightly weak minded compared to his own will, so it wouldn’t take more than a few hypnotic whispers from a siren to get them on their knees like dogs at your heel. That being said, he didn’t trust himself either, not having ever dealt with a siren before. He thought it strange for one to be so far off from the Mediterranean Sea where they are said to dwell.

Despite his caution, his intrigue was stronger. The thrill of having a threat on board and at his mercy. A creature of legend no less, his pride was beaming even under his cool facade while he cataloged in his journal about the days events. The warm light of a lantern softly illuminating the desk he was sitting at while the ship swayed in a lullaby motion. Absently signing his signature on the page before closing the large journal. His thumb ghosting over the golden lettering of the leather cover where it read:

Captains Log of the Sirens Solstice.

He always found that name ironic until today. Given that sirens rarely, if ever, came all the way to the Caribbean unless it was for a reason. On top of that, it was certainly out of place for a siren to be alone when traveling so far. A trinity of knocks at his door broke his thoughts. Sighing and standing up from his chair before he walks over to open the door, his boots softly thumping on the wooden planks with each step. 

When he opens the door, he sees Jovey standing on the other side. Holding a bottle of rum with two chalices in his other hand. He raises them up in his hands as if presenting them.

“Could I bother you with a drink, Captain?” He asked with a softer voice, with it being late in the night and not wanting to stir the crew from their sleep.

Malik smirked slightly at the offer and chuckled lightly under his breath. “I tell you to stay below deck, but you defy my order to offer me a drink? Some first mate you are.” Despite his chiding words, his tone held no bitterness. Even standing aside and allowing Jovey to step into his cabin.

“I didn’t think that order was directed towards me. Must’ve been some miscommunication.” His cheeky tone being accompanied by a playful smile as he took a seat across from the desk. 

Malik rolled his eyes to Joveys’ back while closing the door. Then he made his way back to his seat behind the wooden desk that separated them. Jovey already pouring two glasses of rum for them before offering one of them. Malik taking it gingerly and softly clinking his glass to Joveys’. “So… how is the lad. Cormack, right? He’s not dying or anything, is he?” He asked casually while taking a sip of his drink.

“No, he’s alright. The swellings already going down thankfully. It doesn’t seem like whatever that siren stung him with is lethal. Just knocks you down a peg.”

Malik nods slightly with an unconcerned hum. Tapping his fingers along the side of the chalice while he holds it on the table. It’s not that he didn’t care about his crews’ well-being, their condition just never weighed on his mind. He would internally scold them for being weak enough to get injured or comprised so easily, but he usually put up the persona of a caring captain that was only stern when he needed to be. That didn’t stop him from wanting to strangle his crew himself whenever they made amateur mistakes or found themselves incapacitated. His eyes drifting off towards a window to the side of them that showed the moonlight cascading over the waves. “Why do you think that creature was sent to us?”

Jovey follows his gaze towards the window for a moment before looking back towards him again, noting his almost distant tone as if he was filing through a million thoughts. “I’m not so sure about him being ‘sent’ to us for a reason, Captain, but I’m sure he’s just lost. Probably swam too far away from home.” Taking a sip as he takes a break to organize his own mind. He knew Malik could be ruthless, he’s seen it before even if the newer men in the crew weren’t there to witness it. When the siren came on board, although being at the stern side and taking over the wheel, he could see what was occurring on deck. Noting the way his Captains eyes glinted with a new found fervor, that smile that he knew all too well meant there was a danger brewing. “Why do you believe it was for a reason?”

“Because the tides strike with purpose…” Malik said matter-of-factly. Averting his eyes from the window and turning his attention back to Jovey. Noticing how he seemed to be almost analyzing him, trying to figure out his intentions. “… the sea does not act randomly as one might believe. Everything happens for a reason out on these waters, whether it be to our benefit or disadvantage.” Malik can’t help but smile faintly with a soft scoff as he glances down at his drink. “I’m starting to sound like that old quack Azure.”

Joveys’ smile mirrored Maliks’, his head shaking back and forth in an amused manner. “You sound more like him everyday. In a good way… it’s why he chose you.” Studying his expression, Malik had a gaze of longing, almost nostalgic. A soft smile that was rarely seen, if ever, only when they were alone. “You know, I remember when I first got pulled onto this ship. We were around the same age… not that we still aren’t obviously, but for some reason I always felt like you were older than me. You always knew what you were doing, and you were one of the few people in the crew who gave me a chance.”

Malik redirected his gaze to Jovey once again, a bit taken aback by the sudden throwback and vulnerability, but he tried not to soften his features out of habit of being stoic. “Trust me, I never knew what I was doing. I only ever acted like I knew everything because that’s the only way to get people to respect you.” He swished his rum in his cup absently before taking another sip. “You’re a good man, Jovey. For once, I might even admit to feeling a bit jealous of you. The crew loves you, and we’re all lucky to have you. But if you tell them I said that, then I’ll skin you and toss you off the plank myself.” He couldn’t help but give that teasing threat with a smug smile.

That drew out a soft snort from Jovey as he smiled a bit wider from the playful threat he knew had no real malice behind it. Not when it came to him. He leaned back in his chair as he took his own glass from the table to hold it on his lap. “Who’s to say I’ll give you the chance, Captain? I might just throw myself overboard before you can catch me.” He counters back jokingly.

“If you do that, lad, I’ll jump into the raging tides to fish you out just so I can have the pleasure of pushing you off myself.” 

“Maybe I’ll tie a cannon ball to my foot so I sink faster and you won’t be able to pull me up.”

“Maybe I’ll just shoot a harpoon into your leg and force the crew to hoist you out of the water.”

“You’d go through all that trouble just to feed me to the sharks yourself?”

“For you, Jovey, you better believe I would.”

They both stare at each other in silence for a few seconds that seemed to stretch on before they both began to laugh and heartily chuckle. Joveys indistinguishable snorts between breaths always made his laugh contagious to Malik. For a moment, he couldn’t help but just watch Jovey, seeing his smile and how bright he looked even in the dim lit quarters. He had to mentally scold himself for staring and allowing himself to find a sense of attachment towards him. He lightly cleared his throat before chugging down the rest of his rum and setting his cup to the side. “Alright, that’s enough banter for one night. Leave me be you scoundrel.” He said lightheartedly.

Jovey rolled his eyes slightly with a small smile and stood up from his chair. Grabbing the rum bottle from the table and collecting the other chalice. “Whatever you say, De Lir, sir.” A hint of sass escaping him, knowing he could get away with it. He turns and heads for the door, cracking it open slightly before turning back to look at Malik. “If I may, Captain. What are you planning to do with the siren?”

A soft tch leaves Malik as he smiles from Joveys sass. When he turns back to inquire about the siren, his smile fades. His cold and aloof demeanor resurfacing. “Good night, Jovey.” 

———

The tides were still calm the next morning. Uneventful, at least, it normally would be. Malik stood before the siren, the crew crowding around in a crescent formation behind him. It was still tied up tightly to the mast. Although it was apparently obvious that it struggled for most of the night based on the claw marks that were carved into the wood of the pillar. Even some of the rope looked shredded and loosened but it wasn’t enough to free itself. It looked like he was asleep. Limp in the restraints and head looked down with his chin touching his chest. They knew better, but that wasn’t what caught all of their attention though.

His tail was gone, or rather, replaced by a pair of legs. His fishy ears reduced to normal human ones. The gills along his ribs replaced by smooth skin. The dark blue claws at the tips of his fingers were now short and trimmed. It was an enigma to both the crew and Malik. The siren they brought aboard was now a seemingly normal young man. They knew it was him, but appearance-wise, it threw them for a loop.

Malik stepped up to the siren and gripped a chunk of the back of his hair before yanking his head back. Seeing the siren wince and let out a hiss of discomfort from his grip. He grinned as he stared down at the siren. Analyzing its features, seeing the marks of light blue along his skin. It’s golden eyes, now being up close, noting the two spots of gold in each of them. “What happened to you, little dragon? Lost your tail?”

The siren glares up at him with a fiery rage. He was frustrated having to be at the mercy of a pirate. He’d bite his hand off and claw that smug smile off his face if he could just loosen the rope enough to get one of his hands free. “I’m dried out you fucking assh—.” 

Malik dug his fingers into the sirens scalp and tugged on his hair harder. Ripping a few hairs out in the process, extracting a groan from him that cuts off his words. He leans down closer to the siren to loom over him. “Your tongue is still as vile as yesterday. Someone wasn’t taught manners growing up…” Malik shoots a quick and hard jab to the sirens gut, the wind being knocked out of him as he tries to double over but the ropes keep him up. “… then again, neither was I.” Malik yanks on his hair and pulls his head back to slam against the mast before releasing his grip. Letting the siren deal with the aching sting in the back of his head. He takes a step back to take in the sirens human form. Observing him with a fascination that was anything but innocent or kind. “What is your name, siren?”

A hiss escapes the man as he tugs at the ropes out of frustration. His eyes scanning the crowd of pirates behind their captain. All of them pathetic and weak in his eyes. How dare any of them even get the privilege of seeing me? They were filthy, pungent, cowards that had no right to be in my presence, let alone hold me captive like this. “Fuck you, fuck all of you!”

Malik simply smiles, not his usual cocky smirk, an eerily sweet smile that was too calm. "We can have that arranged, after all, it's not everyday the lads get to let off a little steam on this ship..." He turns to face his crew. Gesturing with his hand towards the siren, as if offering him. "... isn't that right, boys?"

The crew look amongst each other, wondering if their captain was being serious, if they really did have full liberty to do as they pleased with such a rare catch. The siren staring blankly, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at the realization of what the captain just suggested. That was until Malik put his hand up and chuckled breathily.

"Of course, there's one small problem that I'd like to address before you get started."

Reaching for his hidden dagger tucked between the band of his pants, he unsheathes it and turns back to the siren with a quick step, being directly in front of him once again with the curved dagger swiftly finding itself pressed against the creatures neck. The curve of the blade cupping his throat just beneath his adam's apple. The siren freezing from the sudden threatening position but never faltering with his burning glare into Malik's eyes. The pirate staring back with a cold and foreboding gaze.

"That little voice of yours. I can't let you tempt any of my men with it. As disappointed as I'll be to not hear that foul mouth of yours anymore, its time to cut that pretty little voice box out."

Malik drags the dagger along the sirens neck and tilts it up so the tip of the bade was lightly pressed against the bump in the middle of his throat. "If I carefully cut a line right here...", dragging the dagger down along the sirens throat, making him swallow thickly, "... we'll find your larynx. It encompasses your vocal cord. If we just...", a quick flick of the wrist causes the dagger to slice a light cut just off the side of the apple, making the sirens breath hitch and he growls under his breath, "... you won't be able to sing ever again. Helpless... weak... feeble little sea dragon."

"If you fucking do that I swear you'll regret it."

"I don't think I will. In fact, I think I'll enjoy this more than I should."

Even his crew behind him, watching the scene unfold, felt chills go through them having never seen this side of their captain before. Malik grabs the sirens chin in one hand with an iron grip and tilts his head back against the mast. The creature struggling and trying to squirm in the ropes. The pirate carefully grazing the blade along the center of the mans throat. Agonizingly pressing the tip of the dagger against the curve bulging out under the skin slowly. The sirens breath quickening as he gradually becomes panicked, realizing how serious the captain was. He can't help the words that quickly leave his mouth when a trickle of warm blood escapes him.

"I DON'T HAVE A SONG!"

Malik stops progressing, but not drawing back either. He tugs on his chin to pull his head back down to look him in the eye. Gazing with a malicious curiosity but a hint of doubt. "Every siren does, why should I believe you don't?"

"I don't you fuckin' psycho. I wasn't born with it, don't you think I would've tried to use it by now if I had it?"

"I'm not buying that for a second, caviar."

Malik pushes his chin back up and continues where he left off. Digging into the siren's neck more. Drawing out blood as he carves a small line along the apple. Making the creature hiss and groan, his hands clenching into fists as he tries to press impossibly further against the mast to get away.

"I'm being serious! Stop!"

Ignoring his protests, Malik cuts deeper. His hearing tuning out as he focuses on cutting to his goal. His heart was beating steadily, he couldn't help the enjoyment he was getting out of seeing the creature struggle fruitlessly. A sadistic smirk plastered on his face. The siren trying not to let fear take over, but it was getting progressively difficult the more blood that cascaded down his skin. The stinging of the blade slicing through layers of skin. Never in his life had he ever experienced pain, let alone having his own blood leave the safety of his body. He was royalty, he should be the one inflicting pain, he should be the one making this pirate cower beneath him.

"Malik."

A soft voice broke both their thought concentrations. Malik stilling in his actions before he turned to glance over his shoulder with a piercing glare that quickly softened. Seeing Jovey standing behind him, his expression one of concern and trepidation. The siren staring at him with a hint of relief and caution. Jovey steps closer, his eyes darting between his captain and the creature. Swallowing his unease.

"I don't think he's lying."

Malik takes a breather, thinking about his first mates words before reluctantly extracting the dagger from the sirens throat. A string of blood staining the tip of the blade as he lets go of the creatures chin and stands up fully. He turns around to face Jovey, a calmer aura exuding from him. He averts his gaze towards the crew still observing the scene. Some looking uncomfortable and uneasy, others indifferent or even seemingly intrigued. "We arrive at Port Royal tomorrow morning. Toss the bilgerat into one of the cells below deck. If he truly doesn't have the gift, then nobody will have a reason to let him out by then."

Malik looks back towards Jovey, holstering his dagger to his side.

"We'll see if your judgement is as sound as it always is, savvy?"

+++

Date: September 22, 2024

Taglist: @paperprinxe , @melpomenelamusa

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 8, Day 26, alt prompt

“Don’t lie to me.” | Rage | Choke | “Don’t make me say it again.” | “This is your last chance.” | Drowning

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Contains: lady whump, slapping, choking, death wish, suicidal ideation, verbal threat alluding to noncon/SA

WC: 860

Yes, Your Highness

The soldiers threw her at the prince’s feet.

“What’s going on here?” His voice was callous, cold. Swallowing, knowing she would find no mercy here, the maidservant sat up but remained on her knees. She did not dare to stand. Or to speak.

“The little pup’s finally learned to bite,” the soldier said. When she glanced up, he pointed to his reddened, lacerated face. “She was planning to run.”

It was ludicrous, the suggestion that she would try to flee without her brother. The prince knew that, too, yet he still made a spectacle of accepting the broken bracelet and inspecting it as if he couldn’t immediately tell its magic was gone or that it was not the one that stopped her from running away.

“Tell me.” His unfeeling, frigid splinter of a voice made her shiver. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” she said, choosing half-truth. How had the food taster severed the prince’s magic and ended up with the charm in his hand? It made little sense, yet she was certain it was he who’d done it. As for why and how…

Of that, she understood nothing.

His jaw tightened. “Don’t you dare lie to me. How was this damaged?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do I look like a fool to you? You do know. Do not make me ask you again.”

She shook her head.

He did exactly as she expected, driving in the jagged blade he knew would make her crumble. “This is your last chance to tell the truth before I invite your brother into this conversation. If I do, it will become decidedly less friendly—and I will become decidedly less patient. Who broke this?”

Tears slid down her cheeks. “I did.”

His rage exploded then—an eruption of fury and physical strength, a hand across her cheek, a roar of frustration that sent her reeling. “How stupid do you think I am? Who broke the curse on this?”

Choking back her sobs, she said, “Please—he’s just—he’s just no one—a farm boy—a peasant—a food taster—he didn’t even mean to, I don’t think—”

She realized then what she’d done: already capitulated.

He hadn’t even needed to involve her brother.

The prince stilled. “Ah. So that’s his little talent, is it?” When she didn’t answer, he commanded, “You will tell me exactly what happened. Now.”

Pleadingly, she stammered, “But…but why? What do you want with him? What are you going to do?”

His wrath returned, thoroughly unabated. With a snarl, he wrenched her upwards, one hand tangled in her hair. Her bones seemed to crack and crunch when he flung her against the wall, eliciting a shriek of pain, but her voice died as his fingers snaked around her throat.

“One little broken trinket,” he breathed, “and you’ve gotten it into your head that you get to question me. Disobey me. Have you forgotten? I own you. You do as I say, and you do not hesitate. It’s Yes, Your Highness, and nothing else.”

Yes, Your Highness. Three words. So simple. So tempting.

She spat, “You’re just angry that a poor nobody from the north outsmarted your magic without realizing it. Without even trying.”

The fingers around her throat squeezed, and she tried to scream. To cough, to kick, to do anything, but all she could feel was swelling panic and the burning, drowning, ballooning terror of can’t breathe—can’t breathe—can’t breathe—

The squeezing ceased.

She dropped, nearly senseless, when he let go. Towering over her, he waited with his arms crossed as she sputtered and sobbed and wheezed.

“All you know,” he said simply, watching her struggle to regain her breath.

She told him.

In a voice weak and rasping, she spilled the food taster’s secrets.

She could only assume that she sent him to his doom—and condemned herself to her own.

“Good girl,” he said when she’d finished, and she pressed a shaking hand to her lips, nauseous with shame.

She should have drowned herself in the pond or pricked her finger with those poisonous blooms when she had the chance. Why had she allowed her resolve to falter?

Even after all these years, she was still the same old coward she’d always been.

“Still,” said the prince softly, “I think you need to be taught a lesson. A reminder of your place. Don’t you?”

To the floor, she whispered, “Yes, Your Highness.”

Crouching next to her, he tutted, then slid a finger beneath her chin, grazing her smarting skin that would be bruised with handprints within the hour. Heaving an impatient sigh, he tilted her face upwards until she looked him in the eye. “Louder.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” she choked.

He smiled. Pulled his hand away. Stood.

Turned to the soldiers.

“I have more important things to attend to,” he said smoothly, “so I’ll entrust this punishment to you.”

As if jolted awake by the crash of thunder, the maidservant leapt up, a sudden and deafening refrain of run, run, run ringing in her ears.

Eager, iron-strong hands held her fast.

“Do whatever you want with her. She’s all yours.”

June of Doom Masterlist

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@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[fandom-madness69]

It's so much easier to stop hating the TV show adaptation when you accept that Percy Jackson is a Greek Mythology Hero and this is just a retelling of his story.

It's that simple. It's that easy. You can do it.

You can have that emotional character development from such a small decision. It doesn't need to include Athena letting the Demi-god killer into her most sacred temple to destroy you for slighting her indirectly! It can be a simple choice you make! And you should make it because, as some who keeps getting ☠️ and SA threats because I don't spare feelings, it'll make it easier for you to give less of a fuck!

[fcthots]

“I swear to you, that as long as I’m alive I won’t let a single soul ever harm you.” with protective upset and slightly unhinged jason would be so so good oh my god. like if something bad happens to reader and he has to get violent to defend her… yeah.

-🧸

You were on you way home, out later than you should have been, but your friend needed moral support after a breakup and you lost track of time.

Unfortunately while both you & Jason's apartment and your friend's were just off the edge of crime alley, your friend's apartment was on the opposite end of you and Jason. All of this is to say, unless you wanted to be out after midnight, you had to pass through crime alley after dark. It was just a five minute walk there, when daylight spared you of most of the dangers of Gotham, but it was pitch black now. You should have driven, but at the time it didn’t seem necessary.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You walked as fast as possible.

You didn’t even have a purse on you. Your phone was in the leather jacket Jason had bought you as a present and you had 20 dollars stuffed somewhere in your pant pockets.

Were you supposed to turn left here? Yeah, you recognize that streetlamp.

You would call Jason, but your phone is fucking dead and it's not like you were gonna ask your crying friend for a charger. And you didn’t realize how late it had gotten until you stepped outside with no way to get back into your friends apartment.

You were in the home stretch, just in the outskirts of crime alley. Almost freedom.

Never let it be said that you were lucky. All of your luck was used getting your hot ass boyfriend. Luck gone.

The man had a knife and was screaming for your wallet. Your wallet that you did not bring with you.

"Give me the wallet or I'm gonna spill your guts on the fucking ground!"

Just because your boyfriend was scary looking, did not mean you were used to scary men, especially ones that yelled at you. Your hands shook and you weren't sure what to do.

"I don’t have it. All I have is 20 dollars, please."

"That's a fucking lie. I see your jacket. I know that shit is expensive. Lie to me again and I'll slit your throat."

Fuck. If you had to guess, it would be Jason that would find your body. You didn’t want it to be Jason. He wouldn't be able to handle seeing your lifeless eyes. You know what it's like to look into your soulmates lifeless eyes and realize they're gone forever; you were hoping Jason would never have to experience that.

"It's-"

"Tough luck... I guess I could accept other forms of payment."

He bares his teeth in a grin as he sees the look on your face.

"Unless you'd prefer that no one ever finds your body?"

You're really glad you told Jason you loved him before he left for patrol.

The man starts getting closer to you. You can't talk, can't scream, can't think. You were gonna die alone.

You think you mumble out a 'please' before your back hits the wall. His knife was to your throat, but all you could think about was Jason.

There was a bang that you didn’t fully register. Before you could think twice about it, your mugger was on the ground. You didn’t move. You stayed, frozen, silent tears running down your cheeks.

"Shh, it's ok. You're ok. It's me."

You finally focused your eyes and saw the white lenses staring at you, his arms in the air.

You babbled nonsense. You couldn't breathe.

You tried to back away from the man on the floor, but you almost fell. You swore your legs were going to give out. Jason was at your side in less than a second. He lifted you over the bleeding body on the ground, supported your weight as your knees buckled.

He tucked your face into the crook of his neck and you choked on air.

"I've got you. Match my breaths, ok? Good. You're doing great. You're ok, I promise."

All you could manage to get out was his name.

"'M right here. Just breathe. Focus on that for me." His hand cradled the base of your neck.

Eventually you stopped crying. Eventually you could breathe again. Eventually Jason led your face away from his neck to look at you. Your whole body shook. You watched as he drew his hand up to his helmet and heard this hiss and click and he took it off. He took your jaw in one of his hands.

He wiped the splattered blood and tears off your cheeks with a gloved hand, traced the trail of fresh blood and broken skin on your neck from where the knife was pressed against you. “I swear to you, that as long as I’m alive I won’t let a single soul ever harm you.”

You looked into his eyes as they flashed an inhuman green, and you believed him.

Bonus:

"Wait, Jay. Did you just happen to stumble across me?"

"There...may or may not be a tracker in the jacket I bought you... You were in one place for too long."

"I hate that that makes me feel safer."

He smiles apologetically. "I love you."

"I love you too."

[starry-snippets]

stronger together.

synopsis: you’re withdrawing from everything suddenly. jotaro, in love with you and one of your two best friends, is worried and decides to check up on you 

tw: bullying (physical, swears, and emotional), threats *implied sa threat from bully to jotaro*, they/them pronouns used (gender of reader not decided though), a suggestive comment

Jotaro walks down the stairs alongside Kakyoin while listening to the male explain his latest video game. He nods to indicate he’s listening, occasionally giving his own opinions. 

“The graphics are stunning!” as he begins to compliment the fluidity of the character’s movements the usual group of girls surround the males on their way down the steps. 

“Jotaro!” One girl calls out while pitching her voice higher. “Are you free today? I have something to show you!” Her boldness causes the other girls to glare, one attempting to push her down the steps but she’s a moment too late when the group reaches the end of them. “Jotaro?” She drags out the “o”, annoying him to no end. 

Scowling, he simply says “no.” Jotaro begins to walk away from his crowd of fans, Kakyoin happily following him because it’s an awkward position to be in. 

“But why Jotaro? Aren’t I cute?” Her question is poorly timed because you make your appearance, already waiting outside for you two best friends. 

“Hey Jojo and Kak!” You wave to them, both males heading over to you with haste. Your smile enrages Jotaro’s posse, causing them to scoff and roll their eyes at your appearance. “How are you liking your new game Kak? And Jojo! Still good for the aquarium today after school too? I know Kak is!” Your nonchalant questions make the nosy girls just a bit away from you three faces heat up in rage, crossing their arms and gritting their teeth. 

“Whore.” One girl mutters under her breath, as another adds, “they're such a slut for wanting both of them.” 

You’re the closest to them, just in range to hear their bitter comments. Literally shaking your head in hopes of removing those thoughts, you put your attention back on your favorite boys. 

“I’m still available.” Jotaro answers first with a serious face. “We can go now, if you want.” He tilts his hat down, calmly adjusting it. Little did you know it was because his face felt hotter and he wasn’t ready for you to know yet. 

Kakyoin grins at his stoic friend, knowing full and well that he’s been in love with you. “I’m actually busy today. I spent all last night gaming, so it’s time to cram before my tests.” You simply nod, entirely understanding. “So looks like you’ll be going alone together!” Kakyoin grins at Jotaro again, prompting him to raise Star Platinum to him although you can’t see the stands you can observe the teasing ensuing. 

But you think nothing of it, so you just say; “Don’t be like that Jojo! It’ll be fun!” You give him your trademark smile, making him readjust his hat for a second time. Before Jotaro can say anything Kakyoin takes the chance to further fluster his concrete friend. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t think that’ll be an issue.” 

“Oh, good!” You say with a smile as the bell rings. “Oh! I have a test, I’ll see you two at lunch!” With that you run off in the direction of your class, worried you’ll be late if you just walk. 

“I’m going to kill you.” Jotaro glares at Kakyoin without actually meaning his threat. Probably. 

Kakyoin only chuckles, giving him a hardy pat on the back with full confidence. “You’ll thank me later.” 

☆☆☆ ☆☆☆ ☆☆☆ 

Your brain feels like mush at how difficult your test was, your body desperate for food in order to get some of that brain power back. As you go into the lines to get your food you see the girls from this morning and immediately look the other way. You weren’t scared - you just didn’t want to deal with their aspersions. Nothing they said was creative but it was all beginning to add up. You wished that you weren’t punished for who you hung out with but you know that this is just what high school is. 

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t realize when the group migrates closer to you. When you move forward in line you bump into the meanest of the bunch, a girl with obviously artificial curls. She smirks before purposely spilling her smoothie on you, the red liquid getting all over your uniform top. Your mouth opens in silent shock, absolutely shocked she’d do something like this until you think about this morning and the days prior. Pressing your lips in a fine line as you walk away, you’re heading to the bathrooms when you see Kakyoin and Jotaro enter the area from the side. 

Kakyoin is the first to notice the red dripping down your now red shirt. “What happened?” His voice is a bit panicked, anxious that you fell or worse that someone did this to you. 

“I bumped into someone, my bad haha.” You force a laugh to try and convince them that Jotaro’s self appointed protection squad didn’t do this to you. “Just so clumsy!” Hurrying to push the door of the bathroom open you disappear into the room, a loud thud intensifying your departure. 

“Do you think that’s really what happened?” Kakyoin asked with a twinge of disbelief in your explanation but not going to adamantly say you were lying. 

“I think they’re leaving something out.” 

A moment later you come out to see them both waiting for you, a subtle smile making an appearance on your face at that. Your shirt is stained past repair, the wet material sticking to your skin uncomfortably. You pull at it, trying to get the fabric to stiffen in a way it won’t be right up against your midriff. 

“Here.” Jotaro says in his classic monotone while offering you his jacket. You seem to just blink at him which makes him readjust his hat for what, the third time now he wonders? Still he looks at your expression, noticing how your smile widens before you apologize. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t being careful. I know you don't really like to take off your jacket.” He appreciates your care when you grab it, careful to not let it drag against the cafeteria’s floor. It engulfs you, the chains feeling heavy yet comforting on your shoulders. He stares at you with a reddening face and a busy mind, just thinking of how precious you look in his clothing. The thought of you wearing his hat - you being so bold to take it off his head while you hug - makes his face grow so hot he’s scared you’ll see how much he really cares about you. He turns away while you retreat to the bathroom to take off your soiled shirt and pin up the jacket. 

“Smooth!” Kakyoin lightly elbows his blushing friend casually prompting him to respond with an elbow nudge that makes his body rock but he still laughs because he knows Jotaro isn’t actually mad at his meddling. “I think they like you.” His voice is a little playful while he teases Jotaro, but he knows Kakyoin is serious behind his initial tone. 

You come out with enough buttons latched together to hide your undershirt but still reveal your uniform bottom. Jotaro stares at you with a serious face, cheeks less red from getting a moment to curb his surprisingly romantic thoughts at giving you his jacket. Before he can get caught up in his head again and imagine you reciprocating his feelings you’re all heading to your normal, secluded lunch spot. 

“I brought some of my mom’s cooking for you.” Jotaro says to you to get a clap of your hands in excitement and Kakyoin complains that he never offers him any of her cooking. A road you and Jotaro have gone on before is revisited as you make fun of Kakyoin for liking older women a bit too much as your nerves settle down from that targeted encounter in the line. 

As you walk through the doors of the cafeteria you are entirely unaware of the seething girl sitting in the cafeteria already plotting how to “get even” with you for “exploiting” Jotaro’s kindness. 

 ☆☆☆☆☆☆ ☆☆☆ 

You’re putting all of your books back into your bag once the bell rings, every other student seems to rush out while you’re still trying to fit your biggest notebook back into your main pocket. Frustrated, you have to dump everything out to try and rearrange it. Groaning as you do so, your things slide off the desk and under the next desk. Bending down to pick it up, you hear a voice you don’t quite recognize. 

“So this is your class.” They say with a click of their tongue. “Slut. On your knees.” 

At the insult you immediately connect the dots as to who it is, immediately standing up with your folders in your hand to be greeted with those ridiculous fake curls of hers. 

“What are you doing here?” You’re so done with her at this point. Still in Jotaro’s jacket, she grits her teeth before knocking your folders out of your hands. 

“Stay away from Jotaro you bitch!” She yells it with venom in her voice and you can practically feel the toxicity of her tone fly onto your skin with her spit. “I don’t know why you think he even likes you! You’re just some bitch who’s friends with his best friend. He wouldn’t even talk to you if that boy with cherry earrings didn’t tolerate you.” 

You know her words aren’t true but they amplify the anxiety already residing in your mind. Still you shake your head, not going to believe her spiteful words. 

“What is your problem? Why can’t I be friends with Jojo and Kak? Not everyone has ulterior motives like you.” You decide to be bold as anger settles into your heart. You’re tired of her disrespecting Jotaro, always pushing herself onto him and trying to get him to love her like accosting him is the way to do it. “Jotaro doesn’t love you. Can you just be decent and back off?” You hate how pleading that last bit sounded, but you really just want her to leave your friend alone because you know he hates the constant touching, pestering, and fawning. 

“Bitch!” She immediately slaps you across the face, watching your head tilt with the force put into her strike. She grins at that, taking a moment to seemingly admire the redness forming, before she slaps your face in the opposite direction. “Useless whore! You think I’d listen to your bullshit? You’re just jealous! I’ll kill you!”  Her hand continues to beat your head around, your body going limp with the threats of her hurting you. Despite the sheer rage in her voice you don’t budge until she says, “You stay away from him or I’ll force you both to realize he loves me!”  

The implications of that has your blood boiling, frantic about what that means she’ll do to Jotaro. You grab her hand as she leans to slap you again, squeezing it harshly. “You leave him the Hell alone.” You glare at her with a look even more intimidating than Jotaro’s classic side eye he’s always giving her. Must be the jacket adding the extra finesse to your potent frustration. 

“That’s my line.” Her voice isn’t steady as she speaks because her hand is beginning to burn with the pressure you’re applying. “Stop hanging out with him or I’ll take something he’ll never get back. And it’ll all be your fault.” The extra emphasis on “all” makes your eyes widen in despair. Additionally, the color drains from your face. Utter horror heats your veins as you thump her hand against the desk with enough force to make her cry from the pain, your own hand stinging from your fingernails digging into your skin. But you don’t even feel it as you fret about her doing such a thing to Jotaro - barely considering the fact that Jotaro is plenty capable of protecting himself. Still your panic over your best friend, who you do know you love, outweighs that logical reassurance. 

“Fine.” You submit with an angry bite of your lip. You tear at the flesh, blood oozing from the opening. 

“Good bitch.” She says for no other reason than to get one last dig in, bumping against your shoulder on her way out the door. 

You shove all your things into your bag, not caring about the ripped pages and your now split folder as you race home - not shooting Jotaro a text immediately. 

☆☆☆☆☆☆ ☆☆☆ 

“Have they talked to you at all?” Kakyoin only shakes his head as he reads his comic. “They haven’t been at school for days. That’s not like them.” 

“Yeah, it’s like you.” The male responds in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere a bit. It doesn’t work as Jotaro huffs. He’s silent as he thinks, growing nervous about if you’re okay. Jotaro, who’s never this on guard and anxious, decides it’s time to get a concrete answer. Regardless of if he likes the outcome or not.

“I’m going to see them.” Jotaro stands up, clear intent in his stance as he strides to put on his shoes located by the door of his friend’s room. “I need to make sure they’re okay.” 

Kakyoin pauses his game, smiling softly. “You’re such a romantic.” 

“Shut the hell up.” Jotaro closes the door, leaving Kakyoin’s room and ultimately his house. He knows the way to your place from here since it wouldn’t be the first time he’s walked from Kakyoin’s to your house. 

His quick walk turns into a full sprint as he rushes to get to you - terrified you won’t be okay and that’s why you didn’t say why you stood him up when you made plans for the aquarium. He can’t handle the possible reality you’re out of his life - that you’re done with him. He knows he’s abrasive and can be rude but he cares about you and he’ll be damned if you don’t know it by the time he leaves your house tonight. 

His heavy knock alerts your guardian, the adult no stranger to seeing his face. They’re surprised by his lack of jacket and hair spilling from the confines of his hat, forehead shiny with a thin layer of sweat. 

“Oh Jotaro! Did you come to get your jacket? [Name] is upstairs, they’ve been rejecting all companies lately however,” Jotaro nods and heads in, cutting that conversation short. Luckily your guardian isn’t upset about his somewhat rude actions, simply accepting that this is your best friend’s worries making him impatient. 

Jotaro knocks twice on your door, hearing a groan from you through the door. He doesn’t grow annoyed since he knows you have no idea it’s him. It’s a few minutes before you unlock the door despite him seeing the doorknob jostle. It’s like you’re contemplating with paranoia clouding your mind. Why are you being overly cautious? You finally open the door, sure to be slow, just enough to see Jotaro’s ocean eyes beckon you. Immediately you try to shut the door but he’s quick to put his foot in the gap. 

“Can I come in?” He asks without the fear in his chest being evident. “You’ve been gone.” That’s Jotaro’s equivalent to an “I miss you” but those words clog his throat. 

You stare at his shoe, widening the gap so his foot isn’t crushed. “I,” Your voice is swallowed in the memory of his admirer’s threat. “I can’t.” Tears form in your eyes but you shake your head in an attempt to dismiss them. You can’t seem to shake anything off. “This is for your own good. I’m sorry.” You move to shut the door but something pushes hard enough against the door that you can’t shut it. The door flies open, Jotaro practically being invited in. 

“What’s wrong?” He’s begun his questions as soon as the door locks shut. “This isn’t like you.” You’re sitting back on your bed, body wrapped in a weighted blanket, with eyes focused on his shoes again. “I care about you [Name]. Did someone do something to you?” His blood is already preheating in case there’s someone he needs to pummel for hurting you. 

“No, no one did a-anything,” You lie with shaky breathing and he immediately sees through it and gives you a look to make sure you know that won’t fly. 

He motions to the empty space on your bed to ask if he can sit down. You nod, feeling the bed sink when he takes a seat. “I care about you. A lot. Let me help… please.” His voice is marginally softer than you’ve ever heard it before, your face heating and tears no longer held at bay. 

“Someone thre-at-ened to hurt you if-if I didn’t,” it’s hard to stop from sobbing when the tears stop. Jotaro wraps an arm around you in an act of boldness and compassion. He rests it lightly on your shoulder so he could easily back off if you’re uncomfortable, but you lean into his touch and begin to cry into his chest. “Stop talking - hanging out - everything with you a-and I can’t be the reason you get hurt.” There’s a moment of silence as you deeply inhale, anxiety you’ve kept on the back burner ravishing your mind and body. “I-I love you. I-I don’t want you to ever hurt, I don’t want her to-to,” You stop talking as your tears stream in rivers. “She can’t take that from you!” Head pressed into his chest, you yell, all the frustration of being manipulated and as a result hurting him crushing you. “I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m so sorry-” 

“Don’t apologize.” Jotaro interrupts you with a pat to your head. It’s so unlike him but the touch calms your racing mind before you could repeat sorry like a mantra. “It’s that bitch I’m mad at.” His eyes narrow at the thought of her reducing you, the beacon of joy in his life, to this crying, shivering state. “I love you [Name], that’s part of why I’m so pissed off at her right now.” He cracks his knuckles, tension building in his body as he approaches boiling. Looking at your bruised lip and slightly swollen face makes him angrier at what she’s done to you, since he knows you can protect yourself too. 

You’re weak when it comes to him. And he’s weak when it comes to you. So you’ll be stronger together. 

“Jojo,” He got off the bed while captivated by his thoughts of revenge, getting preoccupied with dealing with the root of this weed. “Can you stay with me for now?” Your voice sounds so sad as you wipe away your tears since they’re coming to a stop. “I’m sorry for doing this to you. You didn’t deserve to be left in the blue-” 

“Make it up to me with an aquarium date.” His face is a pink tint as he says that while yours is entirely red. 

“Deal.” You say immediately with a giggle that makes Jotaro’s heart race. He’s back in the moment of you and him right now, sliding off his shoes and getting into bed with your permission. He sits down, his arms wrapped around you while you make up for lost time. You grab his hat, placing it on your head backwards so the brim doesn’t poke him. “Is this okay?” You ask in reference to stealing his hat. 

“It’s… preferred.” Jotaro admits stoically despite his face saying he’s flustered by your action. “I still plan on getting even. At least.” He changes the topic and you sigh, slowly nodding after. 

“I think it’s only right.” You move your head into his warm chest, hat still backwards to prevent it getting misshapen. “She really isn’t a good person.” 

“Not even that. She hurt the wrong person.” He says it with all seriousness, holding you gently. 

“I love you so, so much Jotaro.” You confess again while looking up into his soothing eyes.

“We’ll deal with revenge later. Together. I want to be held right now.” You admit with a chuckle and he nods, happy to do whatever you need after having to deal with his insane fans for so long.  

He has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on his face as he says, “I love you” back while holding you against his chest, thankful you’re no longer alone in what you’re going through. 

☆☆☆ Extra ☆☆☆

You’ve invited Jotaro to stay the night and he agreed after notifying Holly and by now you’ve fallen asleep. Not having discussed where he’d sleep, he’s situated himself on the bean bag you read your comics and play games in. His legs hang out a ridiculous amount but with you asleep he’s not worried about how silly he looks - he never normally is. As he checks his phone a message from Kakyoin catches his attention. 

so… howd it go :) 

sitting on their bean bag 

WOAH 3RD BASE

we’re having a sleepover dumbass

;) sure

☆☆☆ ☆☆☆ ☆☆☆  

note: bold is jotaro’s text! 

my first oneshot for jjba! hope you enjoyed! let me know if you have a request! working on my rules and they’ll be posted soon 

[iwishallantisaverypleasantstop]

you know, fancops have a well-documented behavioral pattern of completely shutting down sa and csa survivors who are profic and even going so far as to tell them they're lying for attention and/or they deserved their abuse. and tbh this whole mindset of "if your trauma affected you differently than me you're not valid" makes me think they would absolutely do the same to survivors who are hypersexual. and I don't mean the way that tumblr uses hypersexuality as a buzzword, I mean REALLY hypersexual. there's a reason I don't talk about my hypersexuality... really anywhere. ever. it doesn't feel safe to. if people knew what being hypersexual entailed, they'd be horrified by it.